diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42754-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42754-0.txt | 10562 |
1 files changed, 10562 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/42754-0.txt b/42754-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed454c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/42754-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10562 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42754 *** + +GOOD REFERENCES + + + + +[Illustration: "But, please--_please_, let me explain about the +references."] + + + + +GOOD REFERENCES + + +BY +E. J. RATH + +AUTHOR OF +"SAM," "MISTER 44," "THE MANTLE OF SILENCE," ETC. + + +Frontispiece by +PAUL STAHR + + +[Illustration] + + +NEW YORK +W. J. WATT & COMPANY +PUBLISHERS + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY +W. J. WATT & COMPANY + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + CHAPTER I MARY DECIDES 1 + CHAPTER II AUNT CAROLINE 15 + CHAPTER III ENGAGED 26 + CHAPTER IV "THE WEB WE WEAVE" 33 + CHAPTER V SOCIAL SECRETARYING 47 + CHAPTER VI IN SEARCH OF AN IDEA 56 + CHAPTER VII VIA THE NIGHT COURT 68 + CHAPTER VIII "MISS NORCROSS GETS THE GOODS" 81 + CHAPTER IX "MISS NORCROSS" WIELDS A CLUB 93 + CHAPTER X THE LEOPARD'S SPOTS 102 + CHAPTER XI THE VALET IN THE HOUSE 112 + CHAPTER XII SIGNOR ANTONIO VALENTINO 123 + CHAPTER XIII MARY RESIGNS 133 + CHAPTER XIV REFERENCES 143 + CHAPTER XV TO SAIL THE OCEAN BLUE 154 + CHAPTER XVI THREE ERRANDS ASHORE 165 + CHAPTER XVII THE WAY OF A MAID 176 + CHAPTER XVIII CASTAWAYS 187 + CHAPTER XIX THE SPOILERS 199 + CHAPTER XX THE HIGH COST OF JEALOUSY 212 + CHAPTER XXI THE LAST BOTTLE IN LARCHMONT 224 + CHAPTER XXII THE ROAD TO HOME 236 + CHAPTER XXIII HOME 249 + CHAPTER XXIV AUNT CAROLINE--REFEREE 262 + CHAPTER XXV WILLIAM DEVELOPS A WILL 273 + CHAPTER XXVI WITHOUT REFERENCES 283 + + + + +GOOD REFERENCES + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MARY DECIDES + + +There was only one man in the office of the Brain Workers' Exchange and +he was an obscurity who "kept" the books in the farthest corner of the +room. Girls of various ages and women of all ages crowded him +remorselessly out of the picture, so that when it was possible to obtain +even a glimpse of him he served merely as a memorandum of the fact that +there are, after all, two sexes. A few of the girls and women sat at +desks; they were the working staff of the Exchange. One of them was also +the owner and manager. + +Outside a railing that divided the room there were a few chairs, very +few, because it was not the policy of the Exchange to maintain a +waiting-room for clients. It was a quiet and brisk clearing house, not a +loitering place nor a shop-window for the display of people who had +brains to sell by the week or the month. The clients came and went +rather rapidly; they were not encouraged to linger. Sometimes they were +sent for, and after those occasions they usually disappeared from the +"active-list" and became inconsequential incidents in the history of +the Exchange. The Exchange had pride in the fact that it made quick +turnovers of its stock; nothing remained very long on the shelves. And +in times such as these there were no bargain sales in brains. + +Mary Wayne paused for a second on the threshold as her eyes swiftly +reviewed the details of the picture; then she closed the door gently +behind her, conscious of a distinct feeling of encouragement. She had +been apprehensive; she had faced an expected sense of humiliation. There +had been in her mind an idea that she was about to become one of a +clamorous crowd. But things were very much otherwise in the Brain +Workers' Exchange--gratefully so. + +She walked over to a desk, where a small brass sign said "Registry," +sensing that this must be her first port of call. A young woman who sat +at the desk glanced up, saw a stranger, reached for a form-card that lay +on top of a neatly stacked pile and dipped a pen. + +"Name, please," she said. + +"Mary Wayne." + +"Address?" + +The address was given; it was that of a boarding-house in the Eighties, +but Mary Wayne hoped that it would not be so identified in the mind of +the recording angel, if, indeed, she should prove to be such. + +"Married?" + +"Oh, no," hastily. It seemed an absurd question, but the answer went +down in a place left blank by the printer. + +"Age?" + +"Twenty-two." + +"Occupation?" + +"Stenographer." The answer had a faint note of defiance. + +"Expert? We handle only experts, you know." + +"Expert," said Mary Wayne. + +There were other questions. Had she a knowledge of office management? +No. Of bookkeeping? No. Of foreign languages? She knew French; a little +Spanish. Did she understand filing systems? She thought so. Education? +There had been two years in college; necessity compelled her to give up +the remainder. + +The woman behind the desk surveyed her from hat to shoes in a rapid, +impersonal glance, then wrote something in another blank space. Mary +wildly yearned to know what it was, but checked the impulse to lean +forward and see. + +"Now, your references, please." + +"I have no references." + +There was a sudden chill in the manner of the recording angel. She +pushed the form-card away from her, so that it teetered perilously on +the edge of the desk. If it passed the brink there was nothing to save +it from the waste-basket below. + +"All registrants must furnish references. Perhaps you did not observe +the sign on the wall." + +Mary had not seen it, but she now looked at it, apologetically. + +"I didn't know," she said. "I'm sorry. But I can explain very easily." + +"We never deviate from our rule, Miss Wayne. We have our reputation to +sustain. References are absolutely essential." + +"But don't you see----" + +"It would only waste your time and mine. We recommend no person for +employment unless she can furnish at least two references. We even +require employers to furnish them, unless they are known to us." + +The recording angel was no longer angelic. She was polite, perhaps, yet +peremptory. With a little gesture of finality, she tipped the card into +the waste-basket. Mary caught her breath, almost desperately. +References! Oh, she had heard that word before. A dozen times it had +risen to mock her, like a grinning specter. + +If asked to spell it, she felt that she would write it thus: + +"D-o-o-m." + +"But, please--_please_, let me explain about the references." + +"Sorry. It would be quite useless." + +"I can assure you I'm absolutely--all right," pleaded Mary. "I'm really +a good stenographer--an expert. I'm honest, and----" + +She paused in the humiliation of having to say things that ought to be +obvious to anybody. + +But the woman simply shook her head. + +"You must listen; oh, surely you will. I suppose I should have explained +in the beginning, but it didn't seem necessary. I didn't understand. +This is the first time I was ever in--in--an intelligence office." + +The recording angel stiffened in her uncompromising desk-chair, and +Mary instantly knew she had given unpardonable offense. + +"This is _not_ an intelligence office, Miss Wayne. An intelligence +office is a place for cooks, chambermaids, waitresses, laundresses, +chauffeurs, gardeners, and stable-hands. This is an exchange which deals +in brains only, plus experience and good character. It is not even an +employment agency. Good day, Miss Wayne." + +Mary recoiled from the desk, numbed. She had sealed her own fate in two +blundering words. She had not meant to say "intelligence office"; it +slipped out in an evil moment of inadvertence. It was a forgotten phrase +of childhood, come down from the days when her mother employed "help," +and now flowing from the tip of her tongue in order to accomplish +complete and unmerited disaster. + +Dismay and irresolution held her motionless for a moment, outside the +inexorable railing that divided the room. It had not yet occurred to her +to walk out of the office of the Brain Workers' Exchange; she was +thralled in the inertia of an overwhelming despair. + +"Good morning, Miss Norcross. Thank you for being prompt." + +A woman who sat at another desk was speaking, in crisp, satisfying +tones. Mary turned mechanically to observe the person to whom the words +were addressed. She saw a girl apparently of her own age crossing the +floor with an eager, nervous step; a girl dressed with a certain plain +severity that unmistakably helped to give her an air of confidence. Mary +was easily as well dressed herself; perhaps more expensively. Yet she +felt herself suddenly lacking in every essential quality embodied in the +person who had been addressed as "Miss Norcross." + +"We have an excellent opportunity for you," the woman at the desk was +saying. "That is why I sent an urgent message. A lady wishes a +competent, well-bred young woman to perform secretarial work. It is of a +social character. She will pay a good salary to the right person. We are +giving you the first opportunity because of the unusually good +references you possess." + +There it was again. References! Mary's soul winced. + +"The lady, Miss Marshall--here is her address--is known to us by +reputation. We have given her an outline of your qualifications. She +will wish, of course, to see your references, so take them with you. She +expects you to call at three o'clock this afternoon." + +"Oh--thank you!" + +There was something so fervent in the words that even Mary, dulled with +her own woes, did not fail to observe it. She was conscious of a faint +sense of surprise that such a confident and evidently competent person +as this Miss Norcross should yield to an ardent protestation of +gratitude. She had good references; unusually good ones, the woman said. +Why, therefore, be so eagerly thankful? + +"It's nothing at all, if you have references," whispered Mary to her +inner self, as she walked toward the door. It was a bitter, hopeless +whisper. + +Once in the outer hall, Mary Wayne paused. She had closed the door +behind which crouched that cold-blooded monster--the Brain Workers' +Exchange. Again she read the neatly lettered sign. What a mockery it +was! Brain Workers, indeed! It was merely a meeting-place for the elect, +for those who had the mystic password to the inner shrine. And she--she +had everything but the mere password. + +Abruptly she brushed her hand across her eyes, then began fumbling in a +beaded bag. + +"I'm going to cry," she said, half aloud. "And I _won't_!" + +Yet she would and did, and she certainly was crying when the door of the +Brain Workers' Exchange opened again and closed with a joyous click +behind the young woman who had the unusually good references. + +"Oh--I'm sorry," said the young woman, looking at Mary. + +Mary hated herself and loathed the weakness of her tears. + +"I saw you inside," continued the person named Norcross. "You've had bad +luck, of course." + +It was not a question, but an assertion. Mary fought against a sob. + +"N-no luck," she managed. + +"Never mind. You'll have better luck very soon." + +"I--I'll never have any luck. I'm doomed. I--oh, it's so silly of +me--but I haven't any references." + +A hand was slipped within Mary's arm; she felt a gentle pressure of +reassurance. + +"Don't let luck down you," said the lucky one. "It always changes. Mine +did; so will yours. I've just had a wonderful piece of luck and it +doesn't seem right that somebody else should be unhappy." + +"But you had ref--ref--references. I heard." + +"Yes, my dear; I had references. They're good things to have. +Come--cheer up. I've simply got to celebrate. Please come and have lunch +with me. Honestly, I insist." + +Mary looked wonderingly at the girl with the magic key. She wiped her +eyes bravely, then shook her head. + +"I'll--I'll be all right. Thank you." + +"You'll be better for lunch; so will I. Please come. I want somebody to +talk to. My name is Norcross--Nell Norcross." + +She was still gripping Mary's arm, with an insistence that surprised the +tearful one, for Miss Norcross did not appear like a resolute and robust +person, but rather one who was somewhat frail and worried, despite all +her jaunty assurance of manner. + +"I'm Mary Wayne--but--oh, what's the use? Thank you, just the same." + +"Come along," said Miss Norcross. "I know a dandy little place. It's +cheap, too. You see, I'm not very strong financially, even if I am +getting a job." + +She walked Mary to the elevator and down to the street level they went. +Mary felt very weak of will, yet somehow comforted, as she suffered +herself to be marched for several blocks to an obscure little restaurant +in a basement. The strange young woman chattered all the way, but Mary +had no very clear notion of what she talked about. It was not until they +were seated on opposite sides of a table that she began to pay close +attention. + +"You must always have references," Miss Norcross was saying with an +energy that was strangely in contrast with the pale, drawn cheeks and +very bright eyes. "You must find a way to get some. People are so silly +about them; they think more of references than of what you can really +do." + +"But how can I ever get them?" asked Mary. "You see, I've never worked; +that is, I never worked for anybody except father. And he is dead. I'm +really a very good stenographer; I can do over one hundred and +twenty-five words a minute. But there isn't anybody who knows I can. And +there isn't a business place that will give me a chance to prove it. +I've tried; and every time they ask for references." + +"My dear, if you can do one hundred and twenty-five you're a better +stenographer than I am; lots better. In your case it's only a question +of getting started. After that, you'll go like wildfire." + +"But it's the references," sighed Mary. "You've got them, you see." + +"Simply because I've worked before; that's all." Miss Norcross sipped +hastily from a glass of water and shook her head with a little frown of +annoyance. "I'm just a bit dizzy; it's my eyes, I think--or perhaps the +good luck. The thing for you to do is to get some references; surely +there must be somebody who can help you out. Now, when I started----" +She shook her head again. "When I started----" Another drink of water. +"It's quite easy if--my dear, I'm afraid I'm going to be ill." + +She announced the fact with a gasping sigh of resignation. Mary arose +from her chair, startled, and walked around the table. + +"I've--I've been afraid of it," said the lucky one of the references. +"I haven't been very strong. Worrying, I suppose. I worried about a job. +It's my head; it aches in such a funny way. Just my luck, I suppose. +I--I--oh, please don't leave me!" + +"I shouldn't dream of leaving you," said Mary, stoutly. "Let me take you +home. Where do you live?" + +"It's----" Miss Norcross whispered an address; Mary observed with +conscious surprise that it was on the lower East Side. "It's written on +a piece of paper--in my bag--in case you forget it--or I faint. You'll +find money there--for the check. I'm sorry. I----" + +The sick girl leaned forward and rested her head on her folded arms. + +"Just get me home," she muttered. "After that----" + +Mary took command. She paid the check out of her own purse and sent the +waiter out into the street to hunt for a taxi. With responsibility so +suddenly thrust upon her there was no opportunity to brood upon her own +troubles or the meager state of her finances. This girl had been kindly; +she could do no less than be a Samaritan herself. + +The ride in the taxi was swift and, for the most part, through streets +whose pavements had deteriorated in keeping with the neighborhood +itself. Mary sat rigid, her feet braced in front of her, with her arm +tightly clasped around the girl of the references, who sagged heavily +against her, her eyes closed, her forehead and cheeks cold and damp. The +cab stopped at what was evidently a boarding-house; Mary could tell a +boarding-house through some queer sixth sense, developed out of +cheerless experience. It was an acquired faculty in which she took no +joy or pride. + +A nervous and wholly pessimistic landlady assisted in the task of +conveying Miss Norcross to her room, which was up three flights. + +"I been expectin' it," observed the landlady. "It's been comin'. She +ain't been feedin' herself right. I ain't complainin', y' understand; +she's paid her bills--so far, anyhow. I hope to goodness it ain't +contagious. I got my house to think about. If it's contagious----" + +"Go down and telephone for a doctor," said Mary shortly. + +"It's a good thing she's got a friend. If she has to go to a +hospital----" + +"Where is the telephone?" + +"Oh, I'll go. I'll send for my own doctor, too. There isn't anybody +better. I'll ask him if it's contagious and----" + +Mary pushed her out of the room and turned to the patient, who was lying +on the bed. + +"Don't be a bit frightened," said Mary. "I don't believe you're very +sick. Keep still and I'll undress you." + +She felt quite composed and wholly in command of herself; it was as if +she were doing something entirely commonplace and all planned in +advance. + +"It--it isn't just being sick," said Miss Norcross weakly. "I'm not +afraid of that. It's the job--the money. I need it so. Oh, please--don't +bother. I can take off my own shoes." + +"Keep still," ordered Mary. "We'll have the doctor very soon." + +"Doctor!" moaned the patient. "That's more money." + +"Stop talking about money. Be quiet. Would you like a drink of water?" + +When Mary returned with a glass she found her patient sitting up, +staring at her with frightened eyes that were luminous with fever. + +"I've got to talk about money!" she exclaimed. "Why, I haven't even five +dollars to my name." + +"There, there, my dear," said Mary. "Don't let it worry you. Neither +have I." + +It had cost her nearly three dollars to pay the restaurant check and the +taxi-driver, but that pang had passed. She was amazed at her own +indifference. + +"But, don't you understand? I'm going to be sick--sick! And who's going +to pay for it all? I _won't_ be a charity patient; I _won't_ go to a +hospital. And my job! I've been trying so long and--and just when I get +one--such a wonderful chance--I--oh, it's going to drive me mad, I tell +you." + +"Never mind; there'll be other chances. Perhaps the lady will wait. +Drink your water." + +But Miss Norcross pushed the glass aside. + +"Jobs never wait," she moaned. "People always have to wait for jobs. +That's what I've been doing, and now--now--oh, isn't it simply fiendish? +And my head aches so!" + +"Of course, dear. But never mind. I'll see you through. Perhaps I'll get +a job myself, and----" + +The sick girl gripped Mary's arm tensely. + +"My job!" she whispered. "You'll take mine!" + +Mary smiled rather wanly. + +"I couldn't do that, of course," she said. "I haven't references--and +they're expecting you. But I'll find something else; I'm sure of it." + +She was anything but sure of it; she was quite certain it would be +otherwise. But it was her duty, she felt, to make a brave front. + +"No, no, no! You _must_ take mine. Oh, can't you see----" + +There was a knock, followed by a doctor. He seemed to be in a hurry, yet +for all that he was quite positive about things. No, it wasn't +contagious. The landlady vanished from the threshold to spread the +joyous news down-stairs. But she was a sick girl, none the less. There +would be ten days in bed, at the very least. She needed medicine, of +course he would leave prescriptions. And there must be a special diet. +There really ought to be a nurse. And--well, he would look in again that +evening; he would decide about the nurse then. + +Miss Norcross was sitting up again as the door closed behind him. + +"See!" she cried. "You've just got to do it! What's going to become of +_me_--and of you? It's for three o'clock. Oh, please go! Take my +references. Take----" + +She fell back on the pillow in a seizure of weakness. + +Mary Wayne walked to the window and looked down into the drab street. +Would she do it? Dared she? Had she any right? And if she did---- The +sick girl was whispering for water. Mary carried it to her, raised her +head and steadied the glass at her lips. + +"Oh, please! I'm frightened and worried--and----" + +Mary made a decision. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AUNT CAROLINE + + +Bill Marshall was home from college. He had fought his education to a +finish, after a bitter battle that was filled with grueling rounds of +uncertainty, and now he returned in triumph to show his prize to Aunt +Caroline; not that he valued the prize itself, for it was merely a +diploma, but because it represented the end of the business of learning +things. He was free now; he could turn his mind and his talents to life +itself. Work! Oh, not necessarily. He had not thought about work. + +Bill--he was infinitely too large to be called Billy or Willie--had +great respect for Aunt Caroline. He wanted her to think well of him. Her +home was his. There was excellent reason for the expectation that some +day her fortune would be his. There was nobody except Bill to whom it +was likely to be given, except for those modest remembrances that go to +the old servants who survive mistress and master. Yet Bill was neither +mercenary nor covetous; he simply accepted conditions and prospects as +they stood, taking it for granted that life was going to be good to him +and that there was no need for anxious glances into the future. If Fate +chose to make him a sole heir, why struggle against it? + +"Why go to the mat with Destiny?" was the sum of Bill's philosophy. +"Why go out of your class and get trimmed?" + +Aunt Caroline Marshall lived in a once fashionable brownstone cave on +lower Fifth Avenue. Her blood was of the bluest, which made her a +conservative. She never "took part" in things. When Bill was in college +there was nobody in the house except herself and the servants. She used +a carriage and team, never an automobile, although she permitted Bill to +have his own car as a reluctant concession to the times. + +She was proud of her ancestral tree, wore lace caps and went to church +every Sunday. She believed that there were still ladies and gentlemen in +the world, as well as lower classes. She made preserves and put up her +own mince-meat. But for all that there was no severity about Aunt +Caroline. She was rather fat and comfortable and tolerant. She liked +young people and somehow she had acquired a notion that Bill had a +future. + +"William," said Aunt Caroline, as she examined the diploma through her +gold-rimmed spectacles, "I think you have done very well. If your father +were alive I am sure he would say the same thing. I am going to give you +a check." + +"Oh, don't bother, Aunt Caroline," said Bill grandly. But he knew she +would. + +"It is so comforting to know that you stood at the head of your class, +William." + +She alone used "William." + +"Why--what?" + +"That out of two hundred you were the very first," remarked Aunt +Caroline, smoothing her black silk. + +Bill was blinking. Was he being joshed by his maiden aunt? + +"Why, Aunt Caroline, who----" + +"Oh, the young man you brought home told me," and she beamed +benevolently. "But the Marshalls always have been a modest family. We +let our acts speak for themselves. I suppose I should never have found +it out if your valet had not told me. His name is Peter, isn't it?" + +So Pete had told her that! + +"He appears to be a rather nice young man," added Aunt Caroline. "I am +glad you brought him." + +Bill was thinking of things to say to Pete. + +"While he is, of course, your valet, William, I think we can afford to +be rather considerate toward him. It seems so rare nowadays to find a +young man with such high aims." + +"So?" remarked Bill. This was bewildering. "Just--er--what did he say +about his aims, Aunt Caroline?" + +"He explained about his theological studies and how he has been earning +his way through college, doing work as a valet. It was kind of you, +William, to give him employment." + +Bill was making the motions of swallowing. Theological studies! Why---- + +"He takes such a deep interest in the heathen peoples," Aunt Caroline +was saying. "While I hate to see a young man bury himself away from +civilization, it shows very high Christian principles. There have to be +missionaries in the world, of course. He speaks so hopefully about his +future life." + +"Why--er--oh, yes; he's an optimist, all right, Aunt Caroline." + +Bill's large bulk showed signs of considerable agitation, but his aunt +did not observe them. + +"I gather from what he said, William, that he is something more than +just a valet to you. He told me about your talks together on theology. I +feel sure that he is going to be a very good influence. He told me about +how hard you worked in your classes, and the honors you won, and all the +temptations you resisted. He did not say that he helped you to resist +them, but he did not need to. I could understand." + +Aunt Caroline nodded in confirmation of her own statement. + +"I hope he is orthodox," she added. "I shall ask him about that some +time." + +There was a dull-red in Bill's cheeks. Suddenly he excused himself and +bolted. Aunt Caroline reached for the very conservative magazine she +affected. + +Up-stairs in Bill's room a young man was sprawled on a couch. He was +smoking a pipe and staring up at the ceiling as Bill thundered in and +slammed the door behind him. + +"Pete, what in blazes have you been saying to my aunt?" + +The valet grinned, yawned and stretched. Bill jerked a pillow from under +his head, gripped him mercilessly by one shoulder and spun him into a +sitting posture. + +"Ouch! Leggo, you mastodon." + +"What have you been saying?" repeated Bill savagely. + +"Oh, whatever she told you, I suppose. Two to one I made it stick, +anyhow." + +Mr. Peter Stearns, who had accompanied Bill home from college, smiled +benignly. He was a frail-looking young man, utterly unlike Bill, whose +mold was heroic. He was also mild-looking; there was a baffling depth +of innocence in his eyes, a placid expression of peace on his lean +features. There was even a hint of piety that might pass current among +the unwary. + +"You filled her up with a lot of bull about me being first in the class +and you having religion--you!" + +"Didn't she like it?" asked Pete mildly. + +"Of course she did, you fool idiot!" + +"Then why the roar?" + +"Because it's going to make a devil of a mess; that's why. Now we've got +to live up to things." + +Pete whistled a careless note and shrugged. + +"That might be a good stunt, too, Bill." + +Bill wheeled away in disgust, then charged back. + +"You know as well as I do that we _can't_ live up to it--neither of us. +You've filled her bean with a lot of fool notions. Oh, Lord, Pete! I had +no business to bring you." + +"Bill, answer me this: am I making things more exciting?" + +"Exciting! You're making them batty." + +"Did I ever fail you?" + +"Oh, shut up!" + +"Did I ever hesitate to give the best that was in me, Bill?" + +"Cut out the bunk; you can't pull it on me. Didn't I have enough trouble +getting through college at all? Didn't I just miss getting the razz from +the faculty? Didn't they let me through for fear if they didn't I'd come +back? And now you butt in and make me the president of the class and one +of those magna cum laudæ guys. Why, you'll have my Aunt Caroline writing +to the college to tell 'em how happy she is and how much money she's +going to leave 'em!" + +Pete made a reassuring gesture. + +"No, she won't, Bill. I'll fix that the next time I talk to her. I'll +tell her----" + +"You won't tell her one damn thing. You've said plenty now. You lay off, +do you hear? You--you--divinity student!" + +Pete smiled brightly. + +"Do you know, Bill, when I did that I honestly believe I pulled off a +new stunt. I doubt if it's been done before. Don't sneer, Bill, I mean +it. And don't you worry about my getting away with it. I'll swing the +job; you watch." + +"But why in blazes did you have to start in telling lies?" + +"Why, I was only making things softer for you, old man. We'll assume +your aunt has always been fond of you, although God knows why. Anyhow, +we'll assume it. But she's more than fond of you now, Bill. She thinks +you're not only a lovable man mountain, but she also thinks you're the +world's leading intellect. Why? Simply because I told an innocent fib +that has harmed nobody." + +Bill grunted savagely. + +"As for the rest of it," remarked Pete, "each of us must carve his own +destiny. I carved mine according to such lights as I had at the moment. +Your aunt is pleased with me; most ladies are. Tut, Bill; I speak but +the simple truth. What there is about me I don't know. Something too +subtle for analysis, I fancy. But, anyhow, you old rip, she likes me. In +giving myself an excellent character I also aid you, which was something +I had particularly in mind. I am always your little helper, Bill; always +and forever. Your aunt feels that it confers honor upon you to consort +with a young man of religious tendencies. You have risen a hundred per +cent, not only as an intellectual, but as a moralist. Why, it's almost +like having religion yourself, Bill." + +Bill Marshall shook a stern finger of warning. + +"You've got to stop it, Pete. I won't stand for it. You'll ruin us." + +"Oh, I'll get by," said Pete, comfortably. + +"Will you? I think you are riding for a fall. How far will you get if +she ever finds out you come from the Stearns family?" + +Pete became thoughtful. + +"She doesn't like us, does she?" + +"She thinks your whole outfit is poison. Understand, Pete; I'm only +saying what _she_ thinks. I haven't any of the family prejudice myself." + +"That's nice." + +"As a matter of fact, I don't know what the trouble is all about, +anyhow. It goes away back. It's a sort of an old family feud; I never +bothered with it. It's nothing in my life--but it is in Aunt Caroline's. +All you've got to do is to mention the name to her and she broadsides. +Why, if she knew that I had anything to do with a Stearns I wouldn't +last five minutes under this roof." + +"I won't tell her, Bill," said Pete, soothingly. + +Aunt Caroline's heir presumptive packed a pipe and lighted it. For +several minutes he smoked ferociously. + +"I'm afraid I've made a mistake in bringing you here at all," he said. +"It's bad enough to have you a Stearns, but if she knew you had been +expelled from college--well, it can't be expressed. Why did you have to +insist on being my valet, anyhow? If you'd just come along as a friend, +under any old name, it would have been a lot better." + +"No, Bill; I figured that all out. Your Aunt Caroline was suspicious of +all college friends; you told me so yourself. She worried about bad +company and all that sort of thing. But she won't worry about a poor +young man who is working his way in the world and getting ready to +reform the heathen. No; I'm better as a valet. Besides, I don't have to +give any name except Peter, which is my own. That keeps you from making +breaks and saves me from telling a lie." + +Bill shook his head gloomily. + +"We're off to a bad start," he grumbled. "I don't like it." + +"Well, let's be gay and bold about it, anyhow," said Pete. "To become +practical, Bill, what sort of accommodations do I draw here? Do I room +with you?" + +"In your capacity as my valet I imagine you'll get a room in the +servants' quarters. Aunt Caroline may put you out in the stable." + +"That's a pleasant way to treat a pal," observed Pete. + +"Take my tip and get that pal stuff out of your head. You'll forget +yourself in front of my aunt some day." + +There was a knock at the door and Bill found one of the maids standing +in the hall. + +"Your aunt would like to see you in the library, Mr. William, if it's +convenient," she said. + +"I'll be right down." + +He turned and glared at Pete. + +"I've got a hunch that she's tumbled to you already," he said. "If she +has, you'd better go out by that window; it's only a twenty-foot jump." + +Pete smiled easily. + +"Bet you three to one she hasn't tumbled. Now you trot along, Bill, and +cheer up." + +Bill could not shake off his premonition of trouble as he walked slowly +down-stairs. With disquieting clearness he sensed that all was not right +with his world. Nor did this feeling leave him even when Aunt Caroline +removed her spectacles and looked up, smiling. + +"It's something I just remembered, William. I wanted to speak to you +about your secretary." + +"Secretary, Aunt Caroline? He's my valet." + +"Oh, no; I don't mean Peter. I mean your secretary." + +Bill shook his head to signify he did not understand. + +"The secretary I am going to engage for you, William." + +"What secretary? What would I do with a secretary, Aunt Caroline?" + +"Your social secretary," said Aunt Caroline. + +"My social--I'm afraid I don't get you, aunty." + +"It is very easily explained, William. All persons who lead an active +life in society require a secretary." + +Bill stared at his benevolent aunt. + +"Holy smoke, Aunt Caroline! I'm not in society." + +"But you will be, my dear nephew." + +"Never!" + +"Oh, yes, William--soon." + +"But--Aunt Caroline--I don't want to go into society. I haven't any use +for it. I'm not built----" + +"There, now, William. We must always put our duty before our mere +inclinations. It is your duty to enter society." + +Bill almost trembled. This was worse than anything his imagination had +conjured. He felt deeply dismayed and, at the same time, excessively +foolish. + +"Duty?" he echoed. "Duty? Why, how in--how can it be a duty, Aunt +Caroline? You've got me knocked cold." + +She smiled gently and patiently. + +"It is your duty to the family, William. It is something your father +would wish. He had a distinguished position in society. Your +grandfather's position was even more distinguished. Because of the fact +that I am a spinster it has not been possible for me to maintain the +family tradition. But for you, William--why, the whole world of society +is open to you. It is waiting for you." + +Aunt Caroline clasped her hands in a spell of ecstasy. + +"But, my dear aunt, I don't know anybody in society," groaned Bill. + +"A Marshall can go anywhere," she answered proudly. + +"But I don't _want_ to. I'm not fit for it. I'd feel like a jay. I can't +dance, Aunt Caroline, I can't talk, I can't doll up--hang it! Look at +the size of me. I tell you I'm too big for society. I'd step on it; I'd +smother it. I'd break it all into pieces." + +"William, nonsense!" + +"It is not nonsense; it's the goods, Aunt Caroline. Why, I couldn't even +sneak in the back way." + +"No Marshall ever sneaks in anywhere," said Aunt Caroline, with a trace +of sternness that Bill did not miss. When his aunt was stern, which was +rare, it was an omen. "The family pride and the family honor are now in +your hands, William, and if you are a Marshall you will be true to +them." + +"But--oh, I want to do something serious," pleaded Bill. + +"What, for instance?" + +Bill was stalled. He did not know what. It was merely the clutch of a +drowning man at a straw. + +"You will find that society is serious, very serious," observed Aunt +Caroline. "There may be some who think it is frivolous; but not the +society in which the Marshalls are known. None of us can escape the +heritage of our blood, William; none of us should try. If the world of +fashion calls you as a leader, it is simply your destiny calling." + +Bill regarded his aunt with horror-stricken eyes. He had never thought +of a Destiny garbed in the grotesque. For one awful instant he saw +himself the perfect gentleman, moving in a wholly polite and always +correct little world, smiling, smirking, carrying ices, going to operas, +wearing cutaways and canes, drinking tea, talking smartly, petting +lap-dogs, handing damosels into limousines, bowing, dancing, holding the +mirror to propriety--he--Bill Marshall--old Walloping Bill. His knees +shook. Then he brushed the fearsome picture from his mind. + +"Aunt Caroline, it's utterly impossible!" + +"William, I have decided." + +For a few seconds he faced her, matching her glance. He was red with +belligerence; Aunt Caroline had the composure of placid adamant. He knew +that look. Again the dread picture began to fashion itself; there was +weakness in his soul. + +"But listen, Aunt Caroline; I'm such a roughneck----" + +"William!" + +He made a ponderous gesture of despair and walked out of the library. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +ENGAGED + + +Out of the library and through the parlor--there was a parlor in the +Marshall home--strode Bill, with each step gathering speed and assuming +the momentum of an avalanche. Things that were in his way suffered +consequences. Not that Bill was clumsy at all, although he thought he +was, as most men do who belong in the oversize class. He was simply for +the moment disregardful of property. Sometimes he believed in the innate +perversity of inanimate matter and comported himself accordingly. He was +in a hopeless anguish of mind. Oh, that Aunt Caroline should have +pressed this cup to his lips. + +Through the parlor and into the reception-room. A high-backed chair lay +in his path. He placed a foot against it and shot it across the floor, +the chair moving on its casters as smoothly as a roller coaster. It hit +the wall, spun around and a young woman fell out of it. + +Bill halted to stare. + +"Holy smoke!" + +Then he was across the room, picking her up. + +"Oh, I beg a million pardons!" + +By this time she was on her feet, very pink in the cheeks and with eyes +all amaze. Bill was steadying her with a reassuring hand, but she drew +away quickly. It was quite plain that as soon as her surprise passed she +would become angry. Bill sensed this in a swift glance. + +"Two million!" he said hastily. + +She regarded him uncertainly. Gray eyes, straight nose, pleasant mouth, +but rather large, fluffy sort of hair that might be reddish in a strong +light--all these things Bill was observing. And then--yes, she had +freckles; not aggressive, spacious freckles, but small, timid, +delicately tinted freckles--the kind of freckles that are valuable to +the right sort of girl. Bill liked freckles. + +"Three million," he said, and grinned. + +"I'll take you at the last figure," she answered. + +"Good. I'm awfully obliged. I suppose there's no use asking if I +startled you?" + +"Quite useless. You did." + +"It was very childish of me," said Bill, more humbly. "You see, the +chair was in my way." + +"And you refused to be thwarted," she nodded gravely. + +"I certainly did. I was angry about something and--say are you kidding +me?" + +This time she smiled and Bill grinned again, sheepishly. + +"Anyhow, the chair wasn't where it belonged," he said. "And when you sit +in it your head doesn't even stick over the top. I had no idea there was +anybody in it, of course." + +"Of course," she assented. There was a funny little wrinkle at the +corner of her mouth. + +"See here," said Bill sharply. "You _are_ kidding me, and--well, I'm +glad I kicked the chair." + +"But really, I don't think either of us was to blame," said the young +woman. "I knew the chair wasn't in its regular place. It was moved over +here for me." + +"What for?" + +"So I could look at the ancestors." + +Bill glanced at the wall, where Grandfather and Grandmother Marshall +hung in their golden frames. + +"Now, who in blazes did that?" he demanded. + +"I don't know. Some young man." She spoke as if young men were articles. +"I called to see Miss Marshall and a maid left me here for a few +minutes. And then this young man came into the room. He asked me if I +was interested in ancestors; that was the very first thing he said. And +I said I was!" + +"Are you?" + +"Certainly. So he moved the chair to the center of the room and made me +sit in it. He wanted me to be where I could get a proper light on the +ancestors, he said. And then he explained them to me. He was very +interesting." + +"He is interesting," admitted Bill. "But he is an awful liar!" + +"Isn't that too bad!" + +"Oh, not necessarily. It's really not very important whether he tells +the truth or tells lies. You see, he's only a servant." + +"Oh." + +"My valet." + +"I see," she said slowly. + +"It was very impertinent of him," said Bill. "He is an exceptionally +good servant, but he is rather erratic at times. I shall speak to him +about it." + +"Oh, please don't. He really didn't offend me." + +"Doesn't make any difference," declared Bill, sternly. "I won't have him +forgetting his place. Won't you sit down again? I won't bother you to +look at the ancestors." + +But scarcely had she seated herself than they were interrupted. A maid +came in to say that Miss Marshall would see her. To Bill it seemed that +the stranger became suddenly preoccupied. She was chewing her lip as she +walked out of the room and did not even nod to him. + +"More of her later from Aunt Caroline," muttered Bill. "And now for a +brief word with Pete Stearns." + + * * * * * + +When Mary Wayne stood in the presence of Aunt Caroline she wondered if +she looked as guilty as she felt; it seemed as if "Fraud" must be +blazoned in black letters across her forehead. But Aunt Caroline did not +appear to discern anything suspicious. She smiled cordially and even +extended a hand. + +"Please sit down," she said. + +Mary sat down. She knew that a social secretary ought to be at ease +anywhere, and she was trying hard. Back in the reception-room, where she +had encountered two odd young men, she had been surprised at her own +poise; for a brief interval all thought of her deception had been driven +from her mind. But now, sitting face to face with a kindly old lady who +accepted her at face value, Mary was suffering from conscience. She +found herself gripping the arm of her chair tensely, girding up her +nerves to meet some sudden accusation. + +"Miss Norcross, I believe," said Aunt Caroline. + +"Ah--yes." + +There! The thing was done. She had not done it very confidently, but the +lie evidently passed current. When it became apparent that Aunt Caroline +had no thought of thrusting a stern finger under her nose, Mary breathed +again. + +"The people who sent you speak very highly of you," remarked Aunt +Caroline. "Did they explain to you the nature of the work that would be +required?" + +"You wished a secretary, I understood." + +"A social secretary." + +"Yes; they told me that." + +"Would you mind giving me some idea of your experience?" + +Mary hesitated. She had not prepared herself for this; she was neither +forehanded nor wise in the ways of fraud. + +"Perhaps," she managed to say. "You would like to see some references." + +She tried to placate her conscience in that speech; it seemed a smaller +lie than saying "my" references. + +"If you please," and Aunt Caroline adjusted her spectacles. + +The references came out of Mary's bag. As the mistress of the Marshall +mansion took them Mary was thinking: + +"Now I am a forger as well as a liar." + +Aunt Caroline read the first slowly and aloud, and looked up to find her +caller blushing. + +"Oh, I am sure it must be honest praise, my dear. Do I confuse you by +reading aloud?" + +She passed to the next, glancing first at the signature. + +"Why," exclaimed Aunt Caroline, "it's from Mrs. Rokeby-Jones. Is it +_the_ Mrs. Rokeby-Jones?" + +Now, Mary had never heard of the lady. She did not know whether she was +"the," or merely "a," and to cover the point without committing herself +to the unknown she nodded. Aunt Caroline nodded in return and read the +reference. + +"I am very pleasantly surprised, Miss Norcross," she said. "This is +what I should call a very distinguished reference. Of course, we all +know Mrs. Rokeby-Jones; that is, I mean, by reputation. Personally, I +have never had the pleasure of meeting her. You see, my dear, I am +rather old-fashioned and do not go out very much. Mrs. Rokeby-Jones. +Dear me, why everybody knows her." + +Mary almost said "Do they?" The name of Rokeby-Jones meant nothing to +her. + +"She speaks remarkably well of you," observed Aunt Caroline, again +glancing at the reference. + +Mary had not even read it. She was too much of a novice for that, and +there had been too many things to distract her. + +"Quite a cultured lady, I am told, Miss Norcross." + +"Yes--quite." + +Aunt Caroline was about to pass to the next reference, hesitated and +glanced up. + +"You know, we women are curious, my dear. I should like to ask you +something." + +Mary was gripping the chair again. What now? + +Aunt Caroline leaned forward and lowered her voice. + +"Is it really true--what they say about her daughter?" + +The candidate for social secretary somehow felt that the bottom was +dropping out of things. What ought she to say? What could she say? And +what was it that anybody said about Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's daughter? + +"I mean the older daughter," added Aunt Caroline. + +So there were two. Mary was staring down at her lap, frowning in +bewilderment. How would she find Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's elder +daughter--guilty or not guilty? If she only knew what people said about +her. Probably it had been in the newspapers. Oh, why hadn't she seen it? + +"I admit I merely ask from curiosity," said Aunt Caroline, yet +hopefully. + +Mary looked up and made her decision. Even the meanest prisoner at the +bar was entitled to the benefit of a doubt. Why not Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's +daughter? + +"Personally, I have never believed it," said Mary. + +Aunt Caroline sighed happily. + +"I am so glad," she said. "That means it isn't true, because you would +know. It always seemed to me it was such a strange and cruel thing to +say. Of course, I understand, that there are certain family traits on +the Rokeby-Jones side. But it doesn't follow, even then. Just how did +the story ever come to get about, my dear?" + +"I--really, I---- Would you mind if I didn't discuss it, Miss Marshall?" + +Aunt Caroline hastily put away the reference and passed to the next. + +"You are perfectly right, my dear," she said. "I ought not to have asked +you. I think you show a very fine sense of honor in not wanting to talk +about it. I'm quite ashamed of myself. Still, I'm very glad to know it +isn't true." + +She examined the remaining references, obtaining fresh satisfaction from +the discovery that the famous Mrs. Hamilton was fully as ardent in her +encomiums as Mrs. Rokeby-Jones. + +"I must say that your references please me extremely," said Aunt +Caroline, as she finished reading the last one. "Your trip abroad with +Mrs. Hamilton must have been a charming experience. I shall ask you to +tell me about it some time. When will you be able to come?" + +And thus Mary knew that she was engaged. + +"I can start any time," she said. + +"To-morrow?" + +"Yes, Miss Marshall. + +"That will do excellently. You will send your trunk here, of course. I +should prefer to have you live with us." + +This was something Mary had given no thought, but it sounded wonderful. +No more boarding-house. And it would save money, too; there was no +telling how much would be needed for the sick girl on the East Side. + +Aunt Caroline rang a bell and asked the maid to serve tea. + +"We'll have a little chat about terms and other things," she said +comfortably. + +The little chat lasted the better part of an hour, but it passed without +embarrassments. The terms were beyond Mary's hopes. As for Aunt +Caroline, she was quaint and captivating. Strange to say, she did not +ask many more questions. For the most part, she talked about herself; +occasionally she reverted to Mary's references which, it was obvious, +had made an indelible impression. Mary discovered a prompt liking for +the old lady, and the more she liked her the more shame she had in the +masquerade she was playing. Only the desperate plight of a sick girl +kept her nerved to the ordeal. + +She was taking her leave when Aunt Caroline remarked casually: + +"I feel sure that you will not find my nephew unduly exacting in the +work he expects of you." + +"Nephew?" asked Mary. + +"How odd, my dear. I didn't tell you, did I? I'm afraid I forget things +sometimes. You see, you are not my secretary at all. You are to be +secretary to my nephew." + +Mary stared. + +"Why--I----" + +"Oh, Miss Norcross! You mustn't say you can't. You will find him most +considerate. He is really a brilliant fellow. He stood first in his +class at college, and he is even interested in religious matters. He has +a very promising social career ahead of him." + +Something was whirling in Mary's brain. She felt as though she were +shooting through space, and then bringing up against a wall at the +farther end of it, where a large and grinning person stood offering +apologies by the million. She was going to be secretary to _him_--she +knew it. + +"Say that you will try it, anyhow," pleaded Aunt Caroline. "I insist." + +Too late for retreat, thought Mary. Besides, what difference did it +make, after all? The money had to be earned. And she felt quite sure +that he would not dream of asking her about Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's +daughter. + +"I shall report in the morning," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"THE WEB WE WEAVE" + + +It was an excellent morning for a grouch, there being a drizzle outside, +and Bill Marshall's grouch was carefully nursed by the owner. He had +breakfasted alone, Aunt Caroline rarely taking that meal down-stairs. It +would have been a comfort to have had Pete at breakfast, for Pete was +entitled to the full benefit of the grouch; but a man cannot eat with +his valet and preserve caste with the remaining servants in the house. +Up-stairs again in his own rooms, Bill was railing at life, which now +stretched before him as cheerless as a black void. + +"Society! I'm ruined if it ever gets back to the gang." + +"You'll get to like it," Pete assured him. "They all do." + +"Oh, stop lying. Do I look like a Rollo?" + +"But you'll change, Bill. You won't keep on being uncouth. Influence of +environment, you know." + +"Cut out the rot, Pete. Can't you take this thing seriously? I tell you, +it's going to ruin me." + +"And you so young," commented Pete. "Bill, I'll admit it looks tough +just now. But what the deuce can you do about it? There's Aunt Caroline, +you know." + +A rumbling growl from Bill. + +"She cuts quite a figure in your scheme of existence, Bill. You've got +to play along with her, up to a certain point--or go to work. And what +would you work at? They wouldn't start off by making you president of +anything. I know that much about business myself." + +"I'm not afraid to take a chance at work." + +"Not you. But how about the fellow that gives out the jobs? And, +besides, Aunt Caroline hasn't said anything about your going to work, as +I understand it. She's got higher ideals right now." + +"Pete, I tell you I'm not going to stand for this without a fight. I +haven't promised anything yet." + +Pete grinned. + +"Maybe you didn't promise, but you marched off the field, and Aunt +Caroline didn't. You went through all the motions of taking a beating. +Bill, she hung the Indian sign on you right then. They never come back +after the champ puts 'em away. I'll string a little bet on Aunt +Caroline." + +Bill growled again, seized the morning paper, essayed to read it, then +flung it across the room. + +"Never on the front page, Bill," said Pete. "They always print it +opposite the editorial page." + +"What?" + +"The society news." + +"Oh, go to blazes!" Bill's grouch was as virile as himself. "And see +here, Pete. I'll beat this game yet. They can't put me into society +without a secretary, can they? Well, you stand by and see how long any +Willy-boy secretary holds a job with me. You keep time on it. The main +part of his job will be his exit. And, believe me, he'll _want_ to go." + +Bill towered importantly in the center of the room. + +"If he's my secretary he takes orders from me, doesn't he? And I have to +have my daily exercise, don't I? Well, his first job every day is to +put on the gloves for half an hour. After that he can open the mail, if +he's able." + +Pete smiled a tribute of admiration. + +"It's good as far as it goes, Bill. Yes, you can lick a secretary. There +isn't any doubt he'll take the air as soon as he comes to. But then +you've got nothing between you and the old champ. And, as I said before, +I'm stringing with Aunt Caroline." + +Pete strolled to the window and observed the drizzling morning. Also, he +observed something else--something that caused him to turn about with a +show of genuine enthusiasm. + +"Bill," he whispered loudly, "she's in again." + +"Who?" + +"Little Gray Eyes." + +"_Who?_" + +"Man dear, the girl. The mysterious lady. The one that took a liking to +me. The one----" + +Bill strode to the window. + +"Oh, she's inside now," said Pete. "I heard the door closing. Bill, I +must have made a hit." + +He went over to the dresser, picked up Bill's brushes and began work on +his hair. + +"Pete, you can cut that out right now. You don't leave this room. +Understand?" + +"But maybe she's back to look at the ancestors again. She liked the way +I talked about 'em, and----" + +Bill pushed his valet violently into a chair. + +"Pete, you've got to behave. I had trouble enough explaining about you +yesterday. My Aunt Caroline's friends don't call here to see the +servants--and you're a servant. Get me?" + +"Don't be a snob, Bill." + +"I'm not. But I'm your boss; that is, while you're in this house. If you +don't like it, blame yourself. You invented this valet stuff. Now live +up to it. Keep your own place or you'll have everything coming down in a +grand smash." + +Pete looked up at him sourly. + +"Bill, you act jealous." + +"Who? Me? Bull!" + +"Bill, you _are_ jealous." + +"Don't be an ass. I don't even know the lady. She's nothing to me. But I +intend to protect Aunt Caroline's guests----" + +Bill was cut short by a knock and a message from a maid. Following its +receipt, he walked over to the dresser and examined his scarf. + +"Brush me off," he commanded. + +"Go to the devil," remarked his valet. "And look here, Bill; play this +square. Don't you go taking advantage of my position. Be a sport now. +And if Gray Eyes----" + +Bill was out of the room. + +Down in the library he found Aunt Caroline--and the young woman with the +gray eyes. The freckles were there, too; he saw them in a better light +now and decided they were just the right shade of unobtrusiveness. + +"William," said Aunt Caroline, "this is Miss Norcross." + +Mary Wayne had arisen from her chair. It seemed to Bill that she lacked +something of the poise that he had remarked on the afternoon before. +There was uncertainty in her glance; an air of hesitation rather than of +confidence was asserting itself. When he upset her chair in the +reception-room she had rallied with discomforting assurance; now she +betrayed timidity. + +"Mighty glad to meet you," said Bill, with a large, amiable smile. + +He found it necessary to reach for her hand, and when he had possessed +himself of it he discovered that it was trembling. + +She murmured something that he did not catch; evidently it was a mere +formality. Bill regarded her with faint perplexity; she was behaving +quite differently this morning. He wondered if it would be a good idea +to say something about yesterday. Had she told Aunt Caroline? No; +probably not. If she had, Aunt Caroline would certainly have chided him +for working himself into a childish fury. Perhaps it would be +embarrassing to mention the matter. He decided to let "Miss Norcross" +take the initiative. + +"Miss Norcross is ready to start this morning," explained Aunt Caroline. + +Was she? thought Bill. Start what, or where? + +"Too bad it should be raining," he observed. Then he could have +chastised himself; it was such a futile commonplace. Pete would never +have said anything so stupid. + +"I think it will be more convenient for both of you to use the +sun-parlor room on the second floor," said Aunt Caroline. "Here in the +library there are so many interruptions." + +"Er--yes; interruptions," said Bill. + +Well, what interruptions? What was all this about, anyhow? From Aunt +Caroline he turned to the girl. Evidently she did not think it was for +her to explain; she avoided his glance. + +"Oh, perhaps I forgot to explain, William." Aunt Caroline smiled at her +own omission. "Miss Norcross is your secretary." + +Bill started to whistle, but it died on his lips. Truth, out in the +light at last, was overwhelming him. He looked again at his secretary; +this time she did not avoid his eyes, but her expression puzzled him. As +nearly as he could read it, there was a pleading there. As for Bill +himself, he knew that his face was growing red. This girl--his +secretary! All his hastily conceived plans were crashing. Aunt Caroline +had spiked a gun. + +"Miss Norcross has some remarkably fine references, William, and I see +no reason why you should not get along very well," added Aunt Caroline. + +"Ah--none whatever," he said clumsily. + +"I think now you might show her the way up-stairs, William." + +Without a word, Bill turned and led the way. He wondered if his ears +were red, too, and if she could notice them from the back. He had a mad +desire to run. He actually did start taking the stairs two at a time, +then remembered and fell into a dignified pace. + +A girl secretary! Oh, Aunt Caroline! + +"How'll I get rid of her?" thought Bill. "I can't beat her up. I can't +swear at her. And why does she have to be a secretary, anyhow? It isn't +a square deal. If this ever gets out--oh, boy!" + +Mary Wayne followed primly, although she was in a tumultuous state of +mind. Of course she had had a night to dwell upon it, but now that she +was really entering upon the adventure it seemed more formidable than +ever. What an amazingly large person he was; it seemed contradictory, +somehow, that a brilliant society man, such as described by Aunt +Caroline, should run so aggressively to bulk. And he seemed +embarrassed; he was not at all like the man who kicked her chair across +the room. + +Bill, with the air of a man about to face a firing squad, moved grimly +along the upper hall in the direction of the sun-parlor room. There was +nothing heroic in his bearing; rather, there was the resignation of +despair. And then something happened to awaken him. + +Pete Stearns, coming down from the third floor, spotted him. + +"Say, listen----" + +Then Pete spotted the girl and the sentence froze. He stood with his +mouth agape, staring at the procession. + +Bill jerked his head higher and set his shoulders. Pete Stearns wouldn't +get any satisfaction out of this, if he knew it. He eyed his valet +coldly. + +"Don't forget to sponge and press those suits, and hurry up about it," +he ordered roughly. "When you've done that I may have some errands for +you. Look sharp." + +He strode past Pete, and Mary Wayne followed. She did not even glance at +the amazed valet. Pausing at a door, Bill opened it and held it wide. + +"This way, if you please, Miss Norcross," he said, with a bow whose +courtliness astonished himself. + +She entered the sun-parlor room. Bill followed--and closed the door. + +Out in the hall Pete Stearns was leaning against the wall. + +"I'll be damned!" he whispered. "The lucky stiff." + +Beyond the door Bill was facing Nemesis. She looked neither perilous +nor forbidding; she was just a girl with a lot of nice points, so far as +he could see. The encounter with Pete had braced him; perhaps it had +even elevated him somewhat in her eyes. He felt the need of elevation; +Aunt Caroline had managed to give him a sense of pampered unmanliness. +Evidently the girl was waiting for him to begin. + +"I guess you didn't tell Aunt Caroline how I booted you across the room +last night," said Bill. + +"No," she answered. + +"That's good." + +And he felt that it was good. This mutual reticence, so far as Aunt +Caroline was concerned, tentatively served as a bond. He waved her +gallantly to a chair, and she sat first on the edge of it; then, +remembering that a social secretary should be a person of ease, she +settled back. + +"What has my aunt been telling you about me?" he demanded suddenly. + +"Why--er--nothing. That is, she told me you wanted a social secretary." + +"She did, eh? She said I _wanted_ one?" + +Mary hesitated for a second. + +"Perhaps she did not put it exactly that way--Mr. Marshall. But of +course I understand that you wanted one. I was engaged for that +purpose." + +"Did she tell you I was in society?" + +"I don't remember that she did. But I took that for granted." + +"Do I look as if I was in society?" + +"I--I can't say." She found the young man somewhat disconcerting. +"Aren't you?" + +"No!" Bill thundered it. + +"Oh!" + +"I'm not in society, and I'm not going in. I wouldn't go into society if +they closed up everything else." + +Mary experienced a pang of dismay. + +"Then I'm afraid there's some mistake," she faltered. "I'm sorry." + +"Wait a minute," said Bill, drawing up a chair for himself and facing +her. "Don't worry, now. Let's get this straightened out. I'll explain. +My aunt wants me to go into society. I want to stay out. She's got a lot +of ideas about keeping up the family reputation. I'd sooner go get a new +one. So she hires a social secretary for me--and take it from me, Miss +Norcross, I don't need a social secretary any more than I need crutches. +I don't need any kind of a secretary." + +Mary's heart was sinking. This was the end of her job; it had all been +too good to be true. He must have read this thought in her eyes, for he +continued hastily: + +"Now, don't get scared. I'm trying to figure this thing out so it'll +suit all hands. You see, this has sort of taken me by surprise. I wasn't +expecting you as a secretary; I was expecting a man." + +"Oh," said Mary faintly. + +"And I was going to get rid of him--pronto. I had it all doped out. +But----" Bill grinned--"I can't get rid of you that way." + +Mary suddenly stiffened. She was not accustomed to having men get rid of +her; she would get rid of herself. She arose from her chair. + +Bill reached forth a long arm and calmly pushed her back into it. She +flushed angrily. No matter how badly she needed work she did not intend +to be treated as a child. But again he was employing that disarming +grin. + +"Easy now--please. I guess I'm rough, but I don't mean it that way. I +suppose you need a job, don't you?" + +Mary considered for an instant. + +"Of course," she said, with a touch of dignity, "I should not have +applied for a place I did not need." + +"Sure; I get you. Listen, now: You can hold this job as long as you +like; you can be social secretary or any other kind--only I'm not going +into society." + +"Will you please explain that?" + +"It's easy. So long as my aunt thinks I'm going into society--fine. So +long as I stay out of it--fine. I haven't any objections to having a +secretary, on that basis." + +Mary shook her head. + +"That would be practicing a deception on your aunt," she said. + +Oh, Mary! + +But what Mary had in her mind was not the drawing of a fine distinction +between one deception and another. She had not forgotten that already +she was a deceiver. What troubled her was this: She liked Aunt Caroline. +Thus far she had done that nice old lady no harm, even though she posed +as Nell Norcross. But to take Aunt Caroline's money and give nothing in +return was very different. That would be stealing. And, besides, she +felt that the acceptance of Bill's idea would put her in an equivocal +position toward him. + +"But Aunt Caroline will never know," said Bill, who had no scruples on +this point. "And you will be able to keep right on in your job." + +Again Mary shook her head. She would have risen but for the fear that he +would push her back into the chair a second time. + +"I would be accepting charity," she declared firmly. "I do not need to +do that." + +Even her thought of the sick girl in the boarding-house did not prevent +her from making this renunciation. Not even to supply Nell Norcross with +a doctor, a nurse and medicine would she accept charity. + +"I had better go down and explain the situation to Miss Marshall and +then go," she added. + +When she said that she did not realize how vulnerable was the spot in +which she attacked him. Bill sensed the blow instantly. + +"No, no!" he almost shouted. "You can't do that. You couldn't explain it +to her in a million years." + +Bill was worried. He did not know that young women were so difficult to +please. He was worried about what Aunt Caroline would say. He knew that +she was not only determined he should have a social secretary, but he +divined that she wished him to have this particular secretary. More than +that, on his own account, he was not yet ready to see the last of this +young person. Still further, there was the desirable project of +humiliating Pete Stearns in even greater degree. + +"Then you may explain it to her," suggested Mary, clinging desperately +to her remnant of conscience. + +"I can't explain it any better than you can," groaned Bill. "I tried to, +yesterday, and flivvered." + +There was half a minute of silence, conversation having ended in a _cul +de sac_. Both turned toward the door with a breath of relief when it +opened softly, after a premonitory knock. Pete Stearns stood on the +threshold. + +He glanced not at all at Bill; his eyes were for Mary alone. + +"Well?" demanded Bill. + +"I thought, sir," said Pete, still watching Mary, "that unless you were +in a hurry about your clothes----" + +Bill cut him short with a gesture. + +"I am in a hurry," he snapped, glaring at his valet. "What's more, I do +not wish to be interrupted when I am busy with my secretary." + +Pete's eyebrows went up nearly an inch. The news was staggering--but it +solved a mystery. Unmistakable hints of a smile lurked on his lips. Then +he bowed deeply--at Mary. + +"Very good, sir," he said, and closed the door. + +Bill turned again toward his secretary. + +"Ultimately, I'm going to assassinate that valet," he said. "I'm only +waiting in order to get my alibi perfected." + +Mary found herself smiling. + +"Now," said Bill, "let's talk business again. I think I know a way to +straighten this out." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SOCIAL SECRETARYING + + +When half an hour had passed Bill was still talking, and Mary had +confirmed certain tentative impressions concerning his respect for the +opinions of Aunt Caroline; or, rather, not so much for her opinions as +for her authority. She saw that Bill had substantial reasons for at +least an outward semblance of acquiescence in his aunt's plans. + +Bill found that it was quite easy to talk to his secretary. She was an +attentive, accurate listener; she seldom interrupted him with questions. +She simply sat and absorbed things, with her hands folded in her lap and +her whole posture that of trained concentration. Out of her gray eyes +she would watch him steadily, but not in a disconcerting way. There was +nothing in her eyes that should not have been there, not even one of +those quizzical flashes that had temporarily unsettled him the afternoon +before. To say that she was demure might, perhaps, suggest the +artificiality of a pose; therefore, she was not demure. She was simply +decorous, in a perfectly natural way. + +"So, then," Bill was saying, "my idea is this: Not being in society, and +never having been there, naturally I can't take a running jump into the +middle of it. An outsider has to be eased in, I don't care who his +family is, unless he's a foreigner. In my case it ought to take some +time to fight my way through the preliminaries. Now, I'm not saying yet +that I'll go in, mind you. But I'm willing to see the thing started. I +don't want you to get the idea that I'm pigheaded. I might change my +mind." + +He knew that he wouldn't, but Mary nodded. + +"So, why not go ahead with the job and see what comes of it? That's +playing square with Aunt Caroline, I'm sure. Later on, if the time comes +when it's all off, we'll go and tell her so and ask for a new deal. How +about it? Fair enough?" + +"Yes," said Mary, slowly, "that seems to be fair--provided you're +sincere." + +"Miss Norcross, I'm the soul of sincerity." + +For that protestation she suspected him, yet she did not feel justified +in pressing scruples too far. She was not a hypocrite. + +"If you are really going to try it, then, I suppose you will have need +of a secretary." + +"My idea exactly," said Bill heartily. "Shake." + +She shook. + +"I'm glad that's settled," he declared, with a comfortable stretch. "Now +we can talk about something else." + +Mary's eyebrows went up almost imperceptibly. + +"Seen the 'Follies' yet?" asked Bill. "No? Say don't miss it. I've been +twice. Think I'll go again, too. Lot of good shows in town, but I'm 'way +behind on them." + +He was regarding her with such a speculative eye that Mary felt the need +of a change of subject. She arose and began removing her hat. + +"I think I had better go to work," she said. + +"Work? Oh, sure; I forgot. Certainly. Er--what at?" + +"We might start on your correspondence," she suggested. + +"I'm game. Who'll we write to?" + +"Why--how should I know, Mr. Marshall? That's for you to say." + +Bill rubbed his ear. + +"Hanged if I know who to write to," he mused. "I never had the habit. I +suppose it's done regularly--in society." + +"It is considered quite important to attend promptly to all +correspondence," said Mary. That was a safe generalization, she thought, +applicable to society as well as business. + +Bill began fumbling in a coat-pocket and eventually drew forth some +papers. + +"I haven't had a letter in a week," he said. "You see, what I get mostly +is bills. Aunt Caroline attends to those. But here's a letter I got last +week; we could begin on that, I suppose." + +He drew it out of the envelope and then shook his head. + +"Too late, I'm afraid. The party was last night. I had another date and +didn't go." + +"But you sent them word, of course." + +"No, indeed; never bothered about it." + +Mary looked disturbed; her sense of order was really offended. + +"I think that was very wrong," she observed. + +"Oh, they'll get over it," said Bill easily. "It was only a poker +outfit, anyhow." + +"Oh." + +Bill finished examining his papers and tossed them into the fireplace. + +"Not a thing in the world that needs an answer," he sighed contentedly. +"Ever occur to you, Miss Norcross, that there's a lot of paper wasted? +If people would only put letters in their pockets and carry them for a +couple of weeks, nine-tenths of them wouldn't need to be answered." + +Mary was frowning. + +"After this I hope you'll let me take charge of your mail," she said. + +"It's all yours," said Bill generously. "I never get anything +interesting, anyhow. Now, what'll we do?" + +The situation was perplexing to her. She could not sit all morning +simply talking to him; that might be social but not secretarial. There +was a business relation to be preserved. + +"You might plan out things," she suggested. "Give me your ideas about +your--your----" + +"Career?" he asked, with elaborate irony, and she nodded. + +"Not for anything," said Bill. "I haven't any ideas. That's your part of +it. I'm going to let you handle the planning along with the +correspondence. You've got more dope on it than I have. You're the +manager, or maybe the chaperon. I'm only the débutante." + +As Mary regarded this large and impossible débutante the mere suggestion +of chaperoning him appalled her. + +"But surely you've got some suggestions," she said. + +"Not a solitary one. Where would I get any? I've been on the outside all +my life, not even looking in. Is it all right for me to smoke? Thanks. +No; it's up to you. But remember--there's no rush. Don't get the idea +I'm driving you. Why, you can take all the time in the world. Take six +months; take a year. Think it over." + +"A year!" echoed Mary. "But you ought to start right away." + +"Why?" + +"Why--so you can enjoy the--er--advantages of society." + +"Well, Mr. Bones--I mean Miss Norcross, of course--what are the +advantages of society?" + +He stood against the mantel, his feet spread wide, his hands deep in his +pockets, staring down at her with a challenging grin. + +Mary became confused. Her soul was crying out in protest at the +unfairness of it. What did she know about the advantages of society? And +yet she must know. Was it possible he suspected her? Any social +secretary ought to have the advantages of society at the tip of her +tongue. + +"It seems to me they're obvious," she said, with desperate carelessness. +"I shouldn't think it would be necessary to make a list of them." + +"It is with me," said Bill mercilessly. "I've got to be shown. Come on, +now; you're an expert. We'll take them one at a time. What's the first?" + +"--I wouldn't know which to put first." + +"Take 'em in any order you like, then. Name the first you happen to +think of." + +Mary was growing pink under the freckles. Never in her life had she felt +so helpless or so absurd. It was deliberate teasing, she knew; but she +must not permit herself to be teased. She must have poise and +self-possession; literally, she must know everything he asked, or at any +rate have an answer. + +"Shoot," said Bill cheerfully. "I'm all attention." + +That was just the trouble, thought Mary. She was fearing now that she +would fly into a temper, which would ruin everything. + +"Well," she said slowly. "I would say that one of the advantages is in +meeting people who are trained to be considerate of your feelings." + +Nor was she ready to bite off her tongue after she said it. He had no +right to treat her that way. She hoped he would understand. + +And Bill did. His eyes widened for an instant and his cheeks reddened. +Then he laughed. + +"That one landed good and plenty," he said admiringly. "I like the way +you snap your punches. Next time I'll know when it's coming. A second +ago I wasn't sure whether you were going to continue the footwork or +step in and hang one on me." + +"What in the world----" Mary faltered in her bewilderment. + +"It's just a way of apologizing," he explained. "It's what you might +call an allegorical apology. I don't know just how they would say it in +society, but whatever they say goes. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings +by teasing you." + +"Oh, it's all right," said Mary hastily, although she noted that he was +sorry for hurting her feelings, not because he had been teasing. + +"I'll try to remember after this," continued Bill. "Of course, you +really stirred things up yourself by saying I ought to start right away. +You don't seem to realize what a job it's going to be. I can't help you +any. When I think of the amount of creative work that's falling on your +shoulders I stagger in sympathy, Miss Norcross. Honestly I do. No; I'm +not joshing you again. I'm serious. Where do you begin to get a guy +like me into society? How do I pry in? What have I got to do to be +saved?" + +Mary smiled in spite of a determination to maintain a dignified +view-point. + +"It will not be so difficult as you think. I'm quite sure of that, Mr. +Marshall. If I may suggest----" + +As she stopped she was looking in the direction of the door. Bill turned +and beheld his valet, standing well inside the threshold. Pete was meek +and smug, his hands clasped in front of him, as he fetched an obsequious +bow. + +"Knock before you enter a room," said Bill sharply. + +"I did, sir." + +Bill knew that he lied, but the point was not worth arguing. + +"I have finished with your clothes, sir." + +"Well, why disturb me about it." + +"You said you were in a hurry, sir." + +Pete gave the "sir" an annoying twist. Also, he had a way of fixing his +gaze upon Mary, not boldly or offensively, but with a sort of mild +persistence that had an even more irritating effect upon Bill Marshall. + +"You said something about errands, sir, after I finished with your +clothes," Pete reminded him. + +"I'll talk to you about that later. You needn't wait." + +But Pete lingered. The social secretary turned away and began examining +a book that lay on a table. As she did so, Bill made a violent gesture +to his valet. It was intended to convey a demand for instant exit, also +a threat of events to come if it was not obeyed. Pete favored him with a +wide smile and a wink. Mary moved across the room to examine a picture, +bringing the valet again within her range of vision. The smile vanished +instantly. + +"May I make a suggestion, sir?" + +"Well?" Bill demanded. + +"I could not help but overhear a part of the conversation, sir," said +Pete. "It was about the difficulties of getting a social introduction." + +Both Bill and Mary were regarding him speculatively, and each was +wondering how long he had been listening. But the valet remained +unabashed. + +"Well?" repeated Bill ominously. + +"I might say, sir, that I agree with the young lady--that it will not be +so difficult as you think. If I may make bold, sir----" + +Bill halted him with a sternly raised hand. He would have preferred to +choke him, but valets were not commonly choked in the presence of young +ladies. He could do it much better later. + +"That will be all from you," barked Bill. "I do not wish any advice from +the servants. Leave the room." + +But Pete lingered. He even sent an appealing look in the direction of +Mary, who showed obvious signs of puzzled interest in the encounter. + +"Leave the room!" + +Bill followed the remark with a stride. He felt both angry and +ridiculous. But Pete was holding his ground with an air of sleek and +pious fortitude. + +"Your aunt, sir, thought there was much promise in the idea," he said. + +Bill halted. + +"What idea?" + +"A suggestion that I made about you, sir." + +Bill groaned in the depths of his soul. Now what had happened? What new +devilment had been set afoot by Pete Stearns? Well, he would soon find +out, but not here--not in the presence of his social secretary. He must +brazen it out for the moment: + +"You mean to tell me you have dared discuss my affairs with my aunt?" + +"At her request, sir," answered Pete, lifting a deprecating hand. "I +should not have dreamed of volunteering, sir." + +Bill was almost ready to believe him; yes, in all probability it was a +horrible truth. Doubtless Aunt Caroline had actually asked for his +advice. She was capable of that folly since she had acquired the notion +that Pete Stearns was an uplifting influence. + +"Well, you won't discuss them with me," roared Bill. "Get out!" + +The valet shrugged and looked sorrowful. + +"Perhaps if I talked the matter over with the young lady, sir----" + +Bill made a rush, but his valet was several jumps in the lead as he sped +out into the hall. The pursuer stopped at the threshold and turned back +into the room. + +"Oh, damnation!" he cried. "Oh, why in---- Say, wait a minute! Please, +Miss Norcross. Awfully sorry; forgot you were here. I apologize. I +didn't mean----" + +But she, too, was gone. Not for the reason that Bill feared, however. +She was hurrying to see Aunt Caroline. She wanted an idea. + +She never needed an idea so badly in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN SEARCH OF AN IDEA + + +Bill hunted for his valet with commendable industry. He searched his own +rooms, the servants' quarters and every part of the house where Pete by +any possibility might be concealed. He went out to the stable and +garage. He made inquiries among the maids. But he did not find Pete, +which was an excellent turn of fortune for that young man. Bill was more +than angry; he was primed for conflict. + +"I'll stand anything within reason," he told himself, "but if Pete +Stearns thinks he can ruin me offhand he's got to lick me first." + +He gloomed around in his room until it was time for luncheon, and went +down-stairs to find Aunt Caroline and Mary already at the table. Bill +held them both under suspicion as he took his seat. He glanced from one +to the other, searching for some sign that would betray a conspiracy. +But Aunt Caroline appeared to be her usual placid self, while Mary Wayne +neither avoided his glance nor sought to meet it, nor did she in any +wise behave as might a young woman who had guilt on her soul. + +Bill ate stoically. Curiosity was burning within him; he wanted to know +what Pete Stearns had been saying to Aunt Caroline. But he feared to +ask; somewhere there was a flaw in his moral courage whenever he was in +the presence of his aunt. + +He really had a morbid desire to know the worst, but lacked the +hardihood to seek the knowledge boldly. So for a while there was nothing +but perfunctory conversation between Aunt Caroline and the social +secretary, with Bill affecting preoccupation but listening to every +word. + +"Miss Norcross tells me you have been discussing plans, William," said +his aunt, suddenly turning the talk. + +"Huh? Oh, yes; certainly." + +He directed a sharp glance at Mary, but it did not reveal to him +anything that suggested an uneasy conscience. + +"I am glad that you are losing no time," continued Aunt Caroline. "Have +you decided on anything definite?" + +"Why--nothing's positively settled, Aunt Caroline. Takes time to get +started, you know. It's a sort of closed season in society, anyhow. +Isn't that so, Miss Norcross?" + +"It is not as active as it might be--in town," said Mary diplomatically. + +"I suppose it is true," observed Aunt Caroline. "Yet, of course, +opportunities can be found. I had what seemed a really excellent +suggestion this morning." + +Bill laid his fork on his plate and waited grimly. + +"It came from that nice young man of yours, Peter." + +The social secretary was diligently buttering a piece of toast; she did +not appear to be interested. Bill knew what that meant--Aunt Caroline +had already told her. Everybody was taking a hand in planning his career +except himself. It was enough to make a red-blooded American explode. + +"Well, I'll bite, Aunt Caroline. What did he say?" + +"William, please avoid slang. Why, he spoke about the social +possibilities that lie in charitable and religious work." + +Bill gripped the edge of the table and held on. He felt certain that his +brain had flopped clear over and was now wrong side up. + +"What he had in mind," continued Aunt Caroline, "was killing two birds +with one stone. It would give you an opportunity to combine society with +other worthy enterprises. As I myself know, there are many people of +very fine standing who are interested in the various religious and +charitable organizations, while the extent of Peter's knowledge of the +matter really surprised me. Through the medium of such organizations he +assured me that it would be possible for you to meet some of the most +socially desirable families. Of course, you would also meet other +persons whom it is not so important for you to know, but that is a +detail which would regulate itself. At the same time, you would have an +opportunity to do some morally uplifting work." + +Bill moistened his lips and stole a horrified glance at Mary Wayne. This +time she was stirring her tea. + +"Well, William, what do you think of the idea?" + +"Preposterous!" + +Aunt Caroline was frankly surprised. + +"Absolute nonsense! Drivel!" + +"William!" + +"Well, it is. It's nothing but sanctimonious bunk." + +"Now, William, control yourself. Consider for a moment----" + +"Aunt Caroline, I can't consider it. Gee whiz, if I've got to go into +society I'm not going to use the family entrance. I'm going in through +the swinging doors or I don't go in at all. And I'd like to know what +business my valet has butting into my affairs." + +Aunt Caroline displayed a mild frown of disapproval. + +"You must remember, William, that he is something more than a valet. He +has been a companion in college and is a young man of very high ideals." + +"I don't care what his ideals are--high up or low down. Let him mind his +own business." + +"But William, he has your very best interests at heart," persisted Aunt +Caroline. "I consider him a very fine influence." + +"Well, he can't meddle with me." + +"Nobody is meddling, William. We are all trying to help you--Miss +Norcross, Peter, myself--everybody." + +"Say, who's trying to run me, anyhow? What is this--a League of Nations, +or what?" + +"William!" + +But Bill was becoming reckless. The more he heard of this diabolical +plot the more he was determined to wipe Pete Stearns summarily out of +his life. How many were there in this scheme? He glared accusingly at +his secretary. + +This time she met his glance steadily. There was something so purposeful +in her gaze that it held his attention. Her gray eyes seemed to be +telegraphing, but he could not read the message. She flashed a side +glance toward Aunt Caroline. With no apparent purpose she lifted her +napkin, but instead of putting it to her lips she laid her finger across +them. + +Bill raged. So they had dragged her into the plot, too. Her part, it +seemed, was to put a soft pedal on protests. + +"I'm not going to be charitable and I'm not going to be religious," said +Bill, defiantly. "And if you don't lay off me I'm not going into +society, either. I'd sooner go to the devil; all by myself, if I have +to." + +"William Marshall!" + +Bill was not looking to see how much Aunt Caroline was shocked; he was +again looking at his secretary. Her finger went to her lips once more, +and this time she also shook her head. She was slightly frowning, too. +Well, what was the idea? What difference did it make to her whether he +spoke his mind or kept a craven silence? Probably she was afraid of +losing her job. + +"Society!" jeered Bill. "Personally conducted by my valet! Me--hopping +around in a pair of patent-leather pumps, lugging lemonade for a lot of +giggling boneheads and saying 'Ain't it great!'" + +Aunt Caroline was passing the point where her sensibilities were merely +outraged; she was growing angry. Her fingers were drumming nervously on +the cloth and in her eyes was an expression that Bill had seen there +before. But this time he seemed to miss it. Mary Wayne did not miss it, +however. She sent him a frown of warning. And then she spoke. + +"Miss Marshall, wouldn't it be a good idea if your nephew and I +discussed this matter up-stairs?" + +Aunt Caroline sternly regarded Bill and hesitated. Bill began bracing +himself for combat. + +"I think perhaps he doesn't fully understand the idea," continued Mary, +hastily. "Perhaps there are some features of it that can be--modified. +I'd like to have a chance to explain it to him more fully." + +Aunt Caroline arose from the table. + +"Very well," she said. "But you needn't go up-stairs to discuss it, my +dear. You can discuss it right here; that is, if you are able to talk to +him at all, which I am not." + +She walked stiffly out of the dining-room, leaving Mary and Bill facing +each other from opposite sides of the table. + +"Well?" demanded Bill. + +She leaned forward and regarded him with complete disapproval. + +"You nearly spoiled everything," she said. "Oh, please--please can't you +be more reasonable, Mr. Marshall?" + +"Reasonable! Do you call that stuff reason?" + +"I haven't called it anything. But don't you see that it only makes +these things worse to quarrel about them?" + +"You don't even want to give me a chance to defend myself," accused +Bill. "You tried to shut me up." + +"I was trying to warn you to be more diplomatic." + +"What's the sense of being diplomatic when somebody sticks you up with a +gun? That's what it was; it was a stick-up." + +Mary made a patient gesture of dissent. + +"I don't think you handled it in the right way at all," she said, +firmly. "You didn't accomplish anything, except to offend your aunt." + +"Well, I'm not going to stand for it, anyhow. So what was the use of +pussy footing? You're all against me--the whole three of you." + +Mary studied him for several seconds. + +"Whose secretary am I?" she demanded. + +"Why--mine. That is, you're supposed to be." + +"Well, am I or am I not?" + +"Of, if it comes to that, you are." He said it reluctantly and +suspiciously. + +"Very well. Then whose interests do I look after?" + +Bill hesitated. He was by no means certain on that point. + +"You're supposed to look after mine, I should say." + +"I'm not only supposed to, but I do," declared Mary. "And I don't think +that thus far you have any good reason to doubt it. I don't think it's +fair for you to doubt it." + +Bill was beginning to feel uneasy. It would be very embarrassing if she +started to scold him. + +"I'm not doubting it," he said, but none too graciously. + +"All right, then," said Mary. "As your secretary I am looking after your +interests first of all in this matter." + +"But you've got a wrong idea of my interests, Miss Norcross. They've got +you in on this scheme and----" + +"Who said I was in on it?" she interrupted. + +"But aren't you?" + +"I am not." + +Bill stared incredulously. + +"But you're in favor of it, anyhow." + +"I am not." + +He spent a few seconds trying to grasp that. + +"You're against it? On the level?" he gasped. + +"On the level," she said calmly. + +"Then why in blazes didn't you say so?" he cried. + +"Because it wasn't the time or the place to say so, Mr. Marshall." + +He was rubbing his ear in a puzzled way. + +"Does my Aunt Caroline know you're against it?" + +"I think not. We merely discussed it. I didn't express any opinion." + +Bill rose and took a turn about the room. He stretched comfortably. He +was breathing normally again. + +"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad they haven't got you hooked up on it. But +you certainly had me guessing for a while." + +Mary was smiling faintly as she watched him. + +"You stick by me and I'll stick by you," he said, walking back to the +table. "We'll put rollers under Aunt Caroline yet." + +"Oh, no, Mr. Marshall. Remember, you promised to make a beginning." + +"Well, we'll put that valet on skids, anyhow." + +Mary pursed her lips and considered. + +"He has a certain ingenuity," she remarked judicially. + +"What?" + +"I think so. And when you come to think of it, there are really +possibilities in his idea." + +"Oh, glory! And you just told me you were against it." + +"I am--in your case," said Mary. "But that doesn't condemn the idea. It +simply means it might not work in a particular instance." + +"I take it you couldn't quite see me breaking in from the religious +angle." + +"Not quite," she answered, and Bill thought her emphasis was +unnecessary. But he did not dwell upon the matter of emphasis, because +he was still overwhelmed with gratitude at the discovery that she did +not belong to the cabal that had been organized against him. + +"You see," explained Mary, "I did not take any side in the matter +because I felt it was necessary first to find out what you thought about +it. But you ought not to have been so emphatic. I haven't been here very +long, of course, but I have already learned that that is not the best +way to deal with your aunt, Mr. Marshall." + +Bill was studying his secretary with new respect. He knew that she spoke +the truth about Aunt Caroline, but he had never been able to put into +practice the best method of dealing with her. + +"I think we can let the matter rest for a while," she added. "Although, +of course, it depends a good deal on whether we can make progress in +some other direction. It's imperative to make a start." + +"Keep me out of the charitable and religious game and I'll leave it all +to you," said Bill, fervently. "But listen: don't start in with the idea +that that valet is any friend of mine. He's dangerous." + +"Then why do you keep him, Mr. Marshall?" + +"Why? Oh, I'm--well, I'm sorry for him, you know. And I knew him in +college, which makes it hard to turn him down. He sticks around in spite +of me." + +To Mary Wayne this explanation did not cover the situation. Peter the +valet impressed her as a somewhat mysterious retainer in the Marshall +household. But she did not press her inquiry. Instead, she asked Bill if +it would be convenient for her to leave the house for a couple of hours +that afternoon, as she had an errand to perform. Bill assured her that +it would; he volunteered to drive her wherever she wanted to go, an +offer that Mary declined with prim and hasty thanks. + +Not long after that she was sitting at the bedside of Nell Norcross. The +sick girl regarded her with feverishly bright eyes. + +"I mustn't disturb you, of course," said Mary, "but the doctor says it +is all right for you to talk a little. I need some advice." + +"About what?" asked Nell. + +"About how to get a young man into society when he doesn't want to get +there. A rather violent young man, I'm afraid." + +"A man!" + +"I didn't explain to you last night, did I? You were too sick. Well, +I'll tell you what has happened." + +Mary sketched the affair as briefly as she could. Nell Norcross, +rightful owner of the magnificent references, showed flashes of +interest, but for the most part she lapsed into listlessness. Her head +still ached and the medicine that she took every two hours tasted +frightfully. + +"Now, what would you do with a young man like that?" asked Mary. + +"I--I don't know. I'll have to think." Nell turned wearily on the pillow +and closed her eyes. "I--I'm afraid I can't think now." + +"Any suggestion might help," said Mary, encouragingly. + +Nell groaned and asked for a drink of water. Mary fetched it and again +sat by the bedside. + +"Just a single idea as a starter," she urged. + +"Oh, give a party," answered Nell, irritably. "They all do that." + +"What kind of a party?" + +"Oh, any kind. I--oh, I'm so tired." + +"Never mind," said Mary, soothingly. "I'm sorry, my dear. I won't +bother you now. Perhaps I can think----" She paused as an inspiration +came to her. "I know what I'll do. I'll call up one of your references +on the telephone and explain that I need a little advice." + +Nell turned quickly and stared at her. + +"Oh, no," she muttered. "You shouldn't do that." + +"But, don't you see----" + +Nell was shaking her head, then groaning with the pain it caused her. + +"Very bad form," she managed to say. "It's never done." + +Mary subsided into a perplexed silence. If it was bad form of course she +would not do it. She must be scrupulous about matters of form. More than +ever she felt herself a neophyte in the social universe; she knew +neither its creed nor its ritual. + +"All right; I won't do it, my dear. There now, don't worry. The doctor +says you're going to come out all right, but it will take a little +time." + +"You've--you've got to hold the job," whispered Nell. + +"Of course; I'll hold it. I'll manage to get along. They're paying me +very liberally and it's all yours, every cent. You see, living there I +can get along quite a while without any money of my own. I don't even +need to buy any clothes just yet. We can afford a nurse for you, I +think." + +But Nell shook her head stubbornly; she did not want a nurse. All she +wanted was to be left alone. + +Mary was saying good-by when something else occurred to her. + +"It's just one question," she explained. "In case I should be asked +about it again I ought to know. And I'm really curious on my own +account, although it isn't any of my business. What is it that they say +about Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's daughter?" + +Nell stared at her dully. + +"The elder daughter," added Mary. + +Nell was shaking her head again and reaching for the glass of water. + +"Is it really something--awful?" + +"Yes--awful," faltered Nell. "I--oh, please----" + +"I won't say another word," declared Mary, hastily, but there was a note +of disappointment in her voice. "If I should be asked again I'll give +the same answer I did before." + +"What was that?" mumbled the voice from the bed. + +"I said I didn't care to discuss it." + +"That's--best. I never did, either." + +"And I said that personally I never believed it." + +Nell answered with a gesture of dismissal and Mary left her. As she +descended the dark staircase of the boarding house she shook her head as +if dissatisfied about something. + +"I'm just as curious as Aunt Caroline," she thought. "I ought to be +ashamed of myself. But just the same I'd like to know what it is that +they say--and some day I'm going to find out." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +VIA THE NIGHT COURT + + +Matters were not going ahead to suit the liking of Mary. Aunt Caroline +was displaying mild symptoms of impatience because the ship that +represented Bill's society career still hung on the launching ways. Bill +himself would pay no attention to the business of getting it off. He was +never at home at night and it seemed to Mary that he slept very late in +the mornings. Pete Stearns was also missing from the household nearly +every time that Bill disappeared. He was probably taking covert +advantage of his employer's absences, Mary thought. + +Thus she was left very much to her own devices, save for occasions when +she found it advisable to consult Aunt Caroline. In the case of the +latter, Mary observed a threatening tendency to revert to the launching +plans that had been conceived by Pete. Whenever she found opportunity +she tried to impress upon Bill the fact that unless he helped to devise +something else he would find himself forced to follow the charitable and +religious route into society. But he waved all that aside in the most +optimistic fashion. + +"You take care of it," he said. "You're against it yourself; I'm +counting on you." + +The valet still puzzled Mary. He had an annoying way of appearing when +Bill was not around, always ostensibly looking for Bill and always +lingering when he did not find him. She could not deny that he +interested her; he possessed an element of the mysterious, whereas Bill +was as transparent as air. It was not easy to establish the precise +status of Pete; Aunt Caroline contributed to that difficulty by lending +him a willing ear on any subject to which he chose to devote his fluent +tongue. His rank was that of a domestic servant; he even ate with the +servants, which was something of which he bitterly complained to Mary. +She could not help feeling that there was some merit in the complaint. + +Yet she could not and would not accept him on a plane of social +equality, although she did not wish to appear snobbish. The relative +values of their positions in the household must be preserved, if only +for the sake of discipline. She would not have minded an occasional chat +with her employer's valet if he did not constantly convey the idea that +he was about to step out of his character. He never actually presumed +upon her friendliness, but he always made her feel that he was about to +presume. + +She had a sense of something like espionage whenever Pete was about, +coupled with an idea that he viewed her work with suspicion and even +derision. Certainly the impression that he made upon Mary was quite +different from that upon Aunt Caroline. He never talked theology to +Mary, although to Aunt Caroline he would discourse upon it until the +dear old lady actually became sleepy. + +As for affairs between Bill and Pete, there had been a truce ever since +the former threatened to throw his valet out of the house by way of the +skylight if he dared to discuss any more social projects with Aunt +Caroline. They did very well together so long as it was not necessary +for them to play the parts of master and man for the benefit of the +household; it was on those occasions that the ever-lurking devil within +Pete Stearns took charge of his actions and speech. Outside of the +house, of course, all barriers between them were down--and they were +outside a great deal. + +It was late in the evening of a difficult and dissatisfying day that +Mary sat alone in the library, quite vainly trying to scheme something +practical for the social launching of Bill. The only thing that cheered +her was a faint hope that he would bring home an idea of his own, for he +had told her that he was to spend the evening at a private and very +exclusive affair. Aunt Caroline had gone to bed early, as usual, and +even the valet had disappeared. + +"I do hope I'll be able to do something very soon," mused Mary, frowning +at a book she had been trying to read. "Poor Nell! She's too sick to +help, and even in her bright moments she doesn't seem to want to talk +about it. I never dreamed it could be so difficult. It's not fair, +either. I came here to be a secretary and they're trying to make me a +manager. And he simply won't be managed and--and I don't know how to +manage him, even if he would." + +"Ps-s-s-st!" + +Mary jumped half out of her chair as she looked up and saw the valet +standing in the doorway. + +"Please make a noise when you walk, or knock, or do something," she +said, sharply. "You startled me." + +Pete made a gesture for silence, stepped into the room and swiftly +surveyed it. + +"Where is Aunt--where is Miss Marshall?" he whispered. + +"She went to bed long ago." + +"Good! Come on, then; we need help." + +"Who needs help?" demanded Mary, impressed more by the mystery of his +manner than by his words. "What's the matter?" + +"The boss is in the hoosegow," answered Pete, his voice tragic. + +"What!" + +"Mr. Marshall--he's in jail." + +Mary leaped to her feet and stared with incredulity. + +"In jail! What for? How?" + +"Caught in a raid. Come on; we've got to hurry." + +"How horrible!" exclaimed Mary. "Is he hurt?" + +"Only in his feelings," said the valet. "Get your hat; you're needed." + +"But--where do you want me to go? What can I do?" + +"Bail him out; get him home. We can't let his aunt know about it, can +we? We've got to produce him at breakfast, haven't we?" + +Mary felt appalled and helpless. + +"But how can I bail him?" she asked. "I haven't any property, or any +money, or----" + +"I'll put you wise to the ropes," said the theological valet in a +hurried voice. "Come on. Aren't you willing to help?" + +"Of course I am," said Mary, indignantly. "I'll be ready in a jiffy." + +When she came down-stairs again Pete was waiting at the front door, +which he closed gently behind them. In front of the house stood a taxi, +into which he thrust her with much haste, following himself, after he +spoke an order to the driver. + +"Where are we going?" asked Mary, as the taxi gathered speed. + +"Jefferson Market--it's a police court." + +She could not repress a shiver. + +"You said a raid? What--what kind?" + +"Listen," said Pete. "Now this is what happened: the boss went to a +scrap--a prize-fight." + +Mary, sitting in the darkness of the taxi, compressed her lips. He had +made her believe that he was going into society! + +"Fights are against the law in this State," continued the valet. "While +it was going on somebody told the police. And the police came and, among +others, they got the boss. He got stuck in the window that was too small +for him." + +"Oh!" gasped Mary. + +"They'll be taking him to the night court by the time we get there. And +we've got to bail him out." + +"How?" + +"We get a bondsman. There'll be one of 'em there; I've got it arranged. +He's in the business; professional bondsman, you know. Only he won't put +up a bond on my say-so. I'm only the valet, you understand; it takes +somebody higher up, like a secretary. We'll get it across all right, if +you put up a good front. Got any money with you?" + +"A little," said Mary. "About twenty dollars, I think." + +"That'll help with what I've got. We've got to give this bird some cash +down." + +Mary was bracing herself as rigidly as she could in a corner of the +seat. It was difficult to prevent a rising tide of indignation from +overwhelming her, although she realized it was a time to keep her head. +Of course, there was but one thing to do--get Bill Marshall out of jail. +But after that she felt that she would be entitled to a reckoning. How +awful it was! Her employer--her social climber--her débutante--in jail +after a raid on a prize-fight! + +At Jefferson Market she was hustled out of the taxi, across the sidewalk +and up some steps that led to a badly-lighted corridor. + +"Wait here; I'll get him," whispered Pete. + +Mary shrank herself as small as possible against a wall and waited. The +valet was not long in returning. With him was a middle-aged, stout, +red-faced person who swiftly inspected Mary with a piercing pair of +eyes. + +"This the dame?" he asked, in a casual tone. + +Mary stiffened at the question. + +"This is the lady I told you about," said Pete. Then addressing Mary: +"This is the gentleman who is going to bail Mr. Marshall." + +"Don't travel too fast," said the bondsman. "Maybe I am and maybe I'm +not. Who are you, anyhow?" + +He was looking at Mary with another critical glance. Her cheeks had +become red by this time; to Pete she seemed to be growing taller. + +"I am secretary to Mr. William Marshall," she said. "My name is Miss +Norcross. And I do not wish to be addressed in the manner that you now +assume." + +There was a flash of dismay in Pete's eyes, to be succeeded by one of +admiration. As for the bondsman, he stared for several seconds in a sort +of dull surprise. + +"Oh, no offense," he said. "Got anything to identify you?" + +Mary opened her bag and drew forth some letters, which she handed to +Pete. She would not permit this creature to receive them from her own +hand. He seemed to sense the import of this employment of an +intermediary, for he surveyed her once more, this time with what was +obviously a more respectful curiosity. Then he began reading the +letters. + +Even a professional bondsman is permitted to have knowledge of the upper +world, and this one was not wholly ignorant of names in the social +register. His eyebrows went up as he read, and Mary was once more made +aware of the potent magic of references. She continued to grow taller. +When he made a move to return the letters she indicated that he was to +hand them to the valet, which he did. + +"I guess it'll be all right," he said. "The bond'll be for a thousand. +The prisoner himself is good for it, but I got to have additional +security. I'll want to see the prisoner when he's arranged, and if he +ain't the right one, tip me off. And I'll take fifty bucks now." + +Mary brought forth what she had and handed it to Pete. He played up to +the situation by palming his own resources as he received Mary's +contribution, and then began counting off bills that were apparently all +supplied by her. The bondsman pocketed the money. + +"Sign here," he said, producing a paper from his pocket. + +Mary received the paper from Pete and examined it. For all she +understood of its contents it might have been printed in Chinese. But +nowhere did it mention Bill Marshall. It dealt with a defendant named +"Henry Smith." She was being swindled! + +"Give me a proper paper," she said, sharply. "This has nothing to do +with Mr. Marshall." + +The bondsman grinned and Pete made the explanation. + +"That's the name he gave on the police blotter. It's all right, ma'am." + +So Mary produced a fountain pen and signed, dimly aware that she was +probably committing one of the varied degrees of forgery. When she had +finished, it appeared nowhere that Mary Wayne was going to the rescue of +one William Marshall, but rather that Nell Norcross had undertaken to +guarantee a bond that would open the jail doors for Henry Smith. + +"Now we'll go up to court," said the bondsman, and he led the way. + +Mary had never been in a court before, much less a night court, which is +peculiar to itself in atmosphere and characters. She slipped into a +place on a rear bench, anxious now to lose something of that stature she +had attained during her interview in the corridor. The bondsman and Pete +went forward and stepped inside a railing. + +Mary waited and watched. The judge who sat behind a high desk was +yawning. Two persons whom she took to be clerks were fumbling over +papers. There were several policemen in uniform. On the benches about +her were numerous and, for the most part, unpleasant persons. + +Two women were led through a side door, evidently to be "arranged," as +the bondsman said. They seemed at ease. A policeman said something, the +judge said something, the clerks did something, and they passed on, +still in custody. Then came a man, who followed the same routine; then +another woman. + +And then out of the side door, which was constantly guarded by a +policeman, came several men--and among them Bill Marshall, towering +almost proudly, it seemed to Mary. She listened breathlessly, but could +not hear a word; everybody was talking in low tones. All she knew was +that Bill was standing in front of the judge, and evidently unashamed. +Pete and the bondsman were there, too, and presently the group moved +over to the clerk's desk. + +This, it seemed to Mary, was a critical instant. She knew that they must +be examining the bond; she felt as though she, too, ought to be standing +there with Bill Marshall, a defendant at the bar. A sense of guilt was +overwhelming her; if anybody had touched her on the shoulder she would +have screamed. And then it was over, in a most perfunctory and +undramatic manner. "Henry Smith" was not returning to the place beyond +the side door, but was passing through the swinging gate that led to the +space reserved for benches. His valet was at his heels. The bondsman +showed no further interest in them. He stayed inside the rail, where he +chatted with a policeman. + +Up the center aisle came Bill, swinging along jauntily. As he neared the +bench on which she sat, Mary became aware that a young man who had been +occupying a place beside her was as much interested in Bill as herself. +This person suddenly sprang into the aisle, gripped Bill's hand and then +linked arms with him. Together they passed out of the court-room. + +Mary, too, had risen, and now the valet was beckoning to her. She +followed him out beyond the swinging doors. There in the corridor she +observed Bill Marshall in one of his intimate and happy moments. He was +laughing with a wholesome lack of restraint and was slapping on the +shoulder one of the most ill-favored persons that Mary had ever seen. +This was the young man who had joined Bill in the moment of his +triumphal exit. + +He was not over five feet six, but he was somewhat broader in the +shoulders than most youths of that stature. His clothes seemed too +tight for him, although they were not a misfit, but rather, the product +of a tailor who must have received his inspiration from a brass band. +His skin was swarthy; his dark eyes small and bright. His nose appeared +to have undergone a flattening process, in addition to which, it +displayed a marked tendency to point to the left. One of his ears Mary +observed with particular attention; it had been twisted into a knotty +lump and stood out from his head in an aggressive effort at +self-advertisement. It was not within Mary's province to know that this +was a singularly perfect specimen of cauliflower, or "tin," ear. + +"Oh, it's all right now, Bill," the young man was saying, "only if you'd +'a' took my tip an' follored me you wouldn't 'a' been pinched at all. +Gee! I had an easy getaway." + +"You always did have speed, Kid," remarked Bill. "Oh, well, it's nothing +in our young lives. Where do we go from here? Where's Pete?" + +He glanced around and beheld not only Pete, but Mary Wayne. + +Bill slowly flushed a fiery red and his eyes widened to almost twice +their size. He faltered for an instant, then rushed forward. + +"Miss Norcross! Why, what in thunder----" + +"I had to bring her, sir," said Pete, hastily dropping into character. +"They wouldn't accept me as additional security, sir." + +Bill hesitated. The cool gaze of his secretary upset him far more than +if she had flung scorn in her glance. + +"Oh, I'm awfully sorry," he began. "I wouldn't have had you come here +for all the world. It isn't right. It's a shame! Why---- Peter, how +dared you bring Miss Norcross to this place? No; don't try to make any +excuses. You ought to be thrashed for it." + +"Your valet was not to blame in the least degree," said Mary, in a +frosty tone. "It appears that it was necessary for me to come." + +"Yes, sir," echoed Pete. + +"I don't care," stormed Bill. "It's no place for her. I won't have it. +I'd sooner lose a leg than have Miss Norcross come here." + +But in his soul he was really not so much disturbed over the fact that +she visited a police court as he was over her discovery of Bill Marshall +as a prisoner at the bar, although he was not at the time capable of +analyzing his emotions very accurately. He was ashamed, confused, angry +at the presence of Mary Wayne, whereas but a moment before he was +enjoying the relish of an adventure and a joke. + +"Shall I get a taxi, sir?" inquired Pete. + +"I'll get it myself. Wait here, Miss Norcross." + +Anything to escape even for a moment from the level gaze of those +accusing eyes. He dashed down a staircase, followed by Pete, who had a +word he wished to say in private. + +Mary now observed that the young man with the tin ear whom she had heard +addressed as "Kid" was watching her attentively. As her look settled +upon him he stepped forward, swiftly tipped a derby, swiftly replaced it +on his head and favored her with a confident and confidential smile. + +"Friend of Bill's, it seems," he observed. "Well, we had a nice evenin' +for it." + +"I do not seem to know you," said Mary. + +He stared in honest astonishment. + +"Y' don't know me?" he echoed. + +"I do not." + +"Y' mean to say Bill never told y' about me?" + +"He never did--and I do not think I am interested." + +His small, black eyes blinked at the astounding news. + +"Why, I'm Kid Whaley. Everybody knows me. Bill's my best friend. Wot? Y' +never heard of Kid Whaley? Say, are y' kiddin' me? Why, it's only last +week I put away Battlin' Schwartz. Knocked 'im dead in five rounds, over +in Trenton. Say, don't y' read the papers? Aw, y' must've heard of me. +Sure y' have. Why, I'm gonna be the next champ. Ev'ry-body knows that. +An' take it from me, th' champ knows it, too. You ask Bill; he'll tell +y' right." + +During this outburst of sincere protestation Mary stood stiffly where +Bill had left her. She would have preferred to walk away, but for the +fear that this voluble young man would follow her. + +"Aw, g'wan," he added, as he playfully poked a finger into her arm. +"You're givin' me a josh. Any friend o' Bill's knows me. Why, he's crazy +about me. I ain't been inside th' ropes once in a whole year that Bill +didn't have a roll bet on me. Why, him an' me----" + +He paused for an instant as he sighted the returning Bill, only to break +forth: + +"Hey, Bill; get this. Here's a dame never heard o' Kid Whaley. Whadda y' +know about that? An' she's a friend o' yours." + +"Shut up!" snarled Bill savagely. + +Kid Whaley stared in bewilderment. + +"Come, Miss Norcross; there's a taxi waiting." + +He seized her by the arm and urged her rapidly toward the staircase. +Mary went willingly; escape from the Kid was the immediate necessity. + +"Hey, Bill; y' comin' back? Hey, Bill----" + +They lost the remainder of the Kid's plea as they hurried toward the +street. + +Pete Stearns was standing guard over a taxi as they emerged from +Jefferson Market and, as he sighted them, he flung the door open. Mary +permitted herself to be propelled into the vehicle with more force than +grace, and Bill followed. Pete was about to make a third member of the +party when his benefactor placed a determined hand against his breast +and pushed him half-way across the sidewalk. Then Bill leaned out, +shouted a direction at the driver, slammed the door and settled back +with a sigh, prepared to receive whatever his social secretary might +decide was coming to him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"MISS NORCROSS GETS THE GOODS" + + +As minutes passed the silence became more than he could endure. Why +didn't she say something? Why didn't she flay him alive and be done with +it? He could stand that; it would not be pleasant, of course, yet it +could be borne. But no; she sat staring straight in front of her, +wordless, even oblivious. + +"Oh, say--go to it!" he blurted. + +"I beg your pardon." + +"Have it out; hand it to me--mop me up." + +She turned to look at him briefly as they passed a brightly lighted +corner, then resumed her former pose. + +"Well, aren't you going to?" he pleaded. + +"I don't know that there is anything for me to say," she answered. + +"Yes, there is; you're full of it," insisted Bill. "I can tell by the +way you're acting. I'll stand for it. Go on." + +"I'm not sure that I care to, Mr. Marshall." + +Her voice was not frigid; rather, it merely conveyed an idea of +remoteness. It was as if she were at the other end of a thousand miles +of wire. + +"Anyhow, I'm sorry," he said. + +To Mary that seemed to require no answer. + +"Mighty sorry, Miss Norcross. I wouldn't have put you in that position +for anything. I--I apologize." + +But it appeared that she had again retired into the silences. + +"Oh, be reasonable about it," he said in a begging tone. "Bawl me out +and let's have it over with. That's the way Aunt Caroline and I do it." + +"I am not your Aunt Caroline, Mr. Marshall." + +"I know. But you're thinking just what she would think, so it amounts to +the same thing. Please bawl me out." + +"I don't know that it is one of my duties to do so," observed Mary. "I +think perhaps we had better not discuss it at all." + +Bill squirmed for the twentieth time. The air within the taxi was +oppressive; he opened the window on his side with violent hands. + +"Well, I apologized," he reminded her. "You might at least say whether +you accept it or reject it or what." + +"Why, I accept it," she said. "What else is there to do?" + +"You might have left off the last part," he grumbled. "You don't have to +accept it unless you want to. I'd sooner you didn't." + +"But I already have." + +"Well, you needn't." + +"It's done, if you please." + +Bill felt peevish. This was not a fair way of punishing him. + +"If you're going to act that way I'll withdraw the apology," he +declared. + +"It is already accepted, so it is too late to withdraw anything, Mr. +Marshall." + +He was uncertain as to the soundness of this position, but it baffled +him, nevertheless. + +"Oh, all right," he agreed lamely. "Have it any way you like. I--I +suppose Aunt Caroline will raise the devil, so I'll get it good from +somebody, anyhow." + +"You will tell her about it, then?" she asked. + +"Who? Me? Do I act crazy?" + +"Then you will leave it to your valet, perhaps," suggested Mary. + +Bill involuntarily tensed his shoulder muscles. + +"Pete? He doesn't dare. I'd slaughter him." + +"Then how is your aunt going to know, Mr. Marshall?" + +Bill turned and stared down at her. + +"Why--why, you'll tell her!" he exclaimed. + +It was Mary's turn to look upward at Bill, which she did steadily for +several seconds. + +"Once again, Mr. Marshall, I ask you, whose secretary am I?" + +"Miss Norcross! You mean----" + +"I mean that I do not peddle gossip," she said sharply. + +Bill had seized her hand and was crushing it; when she managed to +withdraw it her fingers were aching. + +"You're an ace," he said joyously. "I thought, of course----" + +"I do not think you had any business to believe I would tell," said +Mary. "If I have given you any cause to think so I'm not aware of it." + +"You're a whole fist full of aces!" he declared fervently. + +But Mary had no intention of relinquishing any advantage that she held. + +"I think I have been quite frank with you, Mr. Marshall, ever since I +entered your employ. And that is more than you have been with me." + +"Huh? How's that?" + +"Have you forgotten what you told me this afternoon? You--you said you +were going to a very private affair--very exclusive, you said." + +Bill managed to twist a smile. + +"So it was, until the police butted in." + +"I assumed, of course, it was social," said Mary coldly. + +"But I didn't say it was. Now, did I?" + +"You allowed me to infer it. And that is the worst way of deceiving +people." + +"Oh, well, I'll make an apology on that, too. But if I'd told you the +truth you'd have tried to stop me. You'd have roasted me, anyhow." + +"I should have tried to persuade you not to go," she conceded. + +"Sure. I knew it." And Bill grinned. + +The taxi stopped in front of the Marshall home. He helped her out, paid +the driver and followed her up the steps. His night-key effected a +noiseless entrance. Once inside, Bill beckoned her to the library. + +"I want to thank you for doing all you did," he said humbly. "I feel +awfully mean about it." + +"About getting arrested?" + +"No. That's nothing. About dragging you to court. It was a mighty square +thing for you to do. I'm grateful--honestly." + +"I simply did it for business reasons, Mr. Marshall." + +"Business?" he repeated, with a frown of disappointment. + +"Of course. Don't you see the point?" + +He shook his head. + +"It's quite plain," she said. "My business is to see that you enter +society. That is the reason for my employment. Anything that would +interfere with that is naturally also my concern. If you participate in +a brutal prize-fight----" + +"Oh, wait. I wasn't in the ring, Miss Norcross. I was only looking on." + +"If you attend a brutal prize-fight," she corrected, "and are arrested, +and the papers are full of it, and your aunt learns of it, what becomes +of your chances to enter society?" + +"I see what you're driving at," he said slowly. + +"Your chances would be nothing, of course. And with your chances gone +you would have no need for a social secretary. Therefore, I would lose +my position. So you will understand that I had a purely business +interest in the matter, Mr. Marshall." + +Confound her! She did not need to be so emphatic about putting it on +that basis, thought Bill. He was trying to make her see that she had +done something generous and fine, but she stubbornly insisted on having +it otherwise. + +"Well, anyhow, I'm much obliged," he repeated. "Next time I won't bother +to send for bail." + +"_Next_ time?" + +"Certainly. I'll just stay in the lockup, let the newspapers fill up on +it and then I won't be able to get into society if I try. That's not a +bad idea, come to think of it. Much obliged." + +If she insisted on being unpleasant about this, he would show her. For +the moment, Bill was very much of a spoiled child. + +"Well," retorted Mary, "there isn't much danger of your ruining your +social career so long as you follow your--other--career under a false +name." + +Bill glared. "Oh, I guess you'd do the same thing if you got in a tight +place." + +Mary began to turn pale under the freckles. Bill had startled her +without himself being aware of it. He didn't know; he didn't suspect; it +was nothing but an offhand and ill-tempered retort. But it awakened in +Mary something she had been studiously endeavoring to forget; it had +been flung so suddenly at her that it sounded like an accusation. + +"Take it from me," he added, "there's many a sanctimonious high-brow in +this burg who sports an alias on the side. I've got plenty of company." + +Mary was seized with a fit of choking that compelled her to turn her +head. She was rapidly becoming confused; she did not dare trust herself +to speech. Why, she might even forget her wrong name! + +Bill watched her for a moment, then shrugged and yawned. + +"Well, I guess I'll call it a day, Miss Norcross. You can give any +reason you like for what you did, but I'm going to keep on being much +obliged." His voice had taken a more generous tone. "You're all right. +Good night." + +Mary watched his exit from the library, a curious expression in her +eyes. Then suddenly she sat down and began to laugh, very quietly, yet +rocking back and forth with the intensity of the attack. + +"Oh, what a job I've got!" was the burden of Mary's thought. + +She was in no hurry to go up-stairs to her room and the reason for this +was evident when she caught the faint sound of the latchkey turning in +the front door, which brought her to her feet and sent her running +softly into the hall. She intercepted the valet as he was about to make +a stealthy ascent of the staircase and motioned him into the library. + +"Where's the boss?" whispered Pete. + +"He has gone up-stairs. I want to talk to you a moment." + +"Yes, miss." + +Mary looked at him sharply; whenever he addressed her in that manner +she was filled with a sensation of being mocked. + +"Does Mr. Marshall attend many prize-fights?" she inquired. + +Pete clasped his hands and pursed his lips. + +"Well, between you and me, miss," he said, after an instant of +deliberation, "I'm afraid he attends about all there are." + +"Has he ever been arrested before?" + +"Not that I can recall, miss. I'm quite sure this is the first time +since I have been in his employ." + +"Is he in the habit of associating with pugilists?" + +Pete sighed and hesitated. + +"If it's just between us, miss, why I'll say that he has his friends +among such people. It's a very shocking thing; I've done my best to keep +it away from his aunt. So far I think I've succeeded. I've tried very +hard to persuade him to change his ways. I've labored with him; I've +tried to get his mind turned to different things." + +"Theology?" suggested Mary. + +"Exactly," answered the valet. "But it's not an easy matter, miss. Mr. +William is very set in his ways." + +"But I thought you had told his aunt that he was interested in higher +things." + +"To encourage her," said Pete, glibly. "It was not what you'd call a +falsehood. There had been times when he seemed interested, but never for +very long. Still, I've always had hopes. His aunt is good enough to +believe that I have a desirable influence over him. I hope it's true; I +hope so." + +It always puzzled Mary when the valet pursued this strain, and it +puzzled her now. Ninety-nine out of a hundred men who talked thus she +would have classed as hypocrites, but Pete did not seem to her to be +exactly that. She viewed all his excellent protestations askance, yet +she was not satisfied that hypocrisy was the true explanation. + +"It seems a shame," he continued, "that it was necessary to bring you +into touch with such an affair as to-night's. I wouldn't have thought of +it if there had been any other way. I knew that you would be very much +shocked, miss; very much surprised, too." + +He watched her so closely that Mary wondered if he really suspected the +truth--that she was neither quite so much shocked nor surprised as both +he and Bill seemed to believe. That was her own secret and she intended +to guard it at all costs. + +"This affair of to-night," she observed, "was it particularly brutal?" + +"No; I wouldn't say that," replied Pete, reflectively. + +"Had it been going on very long?" + +"Not very long, miss." + +Mary thought for a moment before she framed the next question. + +"Just an ordinary vulgar brawl between two ruffians, I take it?" + +Pete unclasped his hands and made a quick gesture of dissent. + +"Not at all; not at all. Why, it was a pip----" + +He pulled himself up short and coughed. There was a gleam in Mary's gray +eyes. + +"Fortunately, it had not progressed far enough to become actually +brutal," said Pete, and he showed for the first time since she had known +him a trace of confusion. + +"What were you doing there?" she demanded. + +Pete soothed out a wrinkle in the rug with the toe of his shoe before he +decided to meet her glance. + +"It happened this way: I knew where he was going and I was trying to +persuade him to stay away. You see, his aunt expects a great deal of me, +miss, and I didn't want to do anything less than my duty. I followed +him; I argued with him. In fact, we argued all the way to the place +where it was being held." + +And Pete was telling the literal truth. He and Bill had argued, +heatedly. Bill had stubbornly asserted that the Harlem Holocaust would +not last four rounds with Jimmy Jenkins, the Tennessee Wildcat, while it +had been the contention of Pete that in less time than that the Wildcat +would be converted into a human mop for the purpose of removing the +resin from the floor of the ring. + +"Failing to convert him, I take it that you went inside with him," +remarked Mary. + +"Exactly. As a matter of loyalty, of course. So long as there seemed to +be any chance I would not desert. I am not the kind, miss, who believes +in faith without works." + +Which was again true, for Pete had translated his faith in the Harlem +Holocaust into a wager that would have left him flat had the contentions +of Bill reached a confirmation. Unfortunately, the police had canceled +the bet. + +"And how is it that you were not arrested, as well as Mr. Marshall?" + +"There was much confusion. We became separated. I found myself running; +I was carried along in the rush of the crowd. Before I knew it I was in +the street again. And besides"--Pete made a gesture of appeal "it was +necessary for somebody to see about obtaining bail, Miss Norcross." + +"I'm sure it was very fortunate you were there," said Mary. "You seemed +to understand exactly what to do." + +But Pete declined to be further disconcerted. He was able to look at her +without flinching this time. + +"Just one more question," added Mary. "Is this Mr. Whaley whom I saw at +court a particularly close friend of Mr. Marshall's?" + +Pete drew a deep breath and launched upon another speech. + +"It seems, miss, as nearly as I can learn, that for quite a long time +the Whaley person has been known to Mr. William. I frequently took +occasion----" + +Mary interrupted him with a gesture. + +"Never mind," she said. "I understand. You labored with him on that +matter, also. I have no doubt that you prayed with him and preached at +him. I am sure you did everything in your power. I won't embarrass you +by asking for the details. Some day I feel certain your efforts to exert +a good influence over Mr. Marshall will have better success." + +"Thank you, miss," and Pete bowed. + +"But meantime----" And as Mary leaned forward her knuckles were tapping +firmly on the arm of the chair. "Meantime, if I may make a suggestion, +it would be an excellent plan for you to remain away from prize-fights." + +"Yes, miss." + +"And it would be a very good thing for Mr. Marshall to do likewise--very +good." + +Pete bowed again and made a note of the fact that she had a significant +way of tightly closing her lips. + +"You're quite sure you understand?" + +"Oh, quite--quite." + +"Good night," said Mary. + +Dismissal was so abrupt that there was nothing to do but accept it. And +Pete was not in the least sorry to terminate the interview. In spots he +had enjoyed it, but the spots had been infrequent. He was dissatisfied +because he had never for an instant been master of it. Talking to Aunt +Caroline was easier than talking to Bill's secretary, who did not seem +to place a proper value on theology. Hang the business of being a valet, +anyhow! Such were the reflections that crowded into his agile mind as he +bowed himself out. + +He paused on the staircase to consider the matter further. The more he +thought about this interview with the social secretary the more it +disturbed him. It had not been a matter of mere suggestions on her part; +it was very like orders. He recognized a threat when he heard one, even +though the threat might be veiled with ironical advice. + +"Confound her!" muttered Pete. "That little bird is wise--too wise. I +wouldn't object to her simply getting the deadwood on us, if she seemed +willing to let it go at that. But she served notice on me that she might +make use of it. And I believe she'd do it, if she once took it into her +head. What Samson did to the pillars of the temple isn't a marker to the +house-wrecking job she can do, once she decides to get busy at it." + +Up-stairs, he opened the door to Bill's apartments and thrust his head +inside. + +"Bill!" he said, softly. "She's got the Indian sign on us." + +"Come in and shut the door," growled a voice. "What did she say to you?" + +Pete summarized the conversation that had taken place in the library. + +"She's swinging a big stick," he said, in conclusion. "The worst of it +is, she's got the goods. It isn't me alone who is supposed to stay away +from prize fights. It's you." + +"She can't dictate to me," declared Bill, sourly. + +"Don't be too certain. She can always carry it up to the supreme court." + +"Who? Aunt Caroline?" Bill considered the suggestion. "No; I don't +believe it. I don't think she's mean, whatever else she may be. In fact, +she told me----" He paused. It did not seem necessary to take Pete +entirely into his confidence concerning conversations with his +secretary. "No, Pete; I don't believe she'll say anything. That is--not +this time." + +"Maybe," assented Pete, pessimistically. "I don't expect she will, +either. But how about the next time? Are you figuring to reform?" + +Bill made a scornful gesture of denial. + +"But she expects us to reform, Bill. That's where the danger comes in. +And she'll be keeping her eye on us." + +"Well, I guess we're as clever as she is, if it comes to that." + +"That so?" remarked Pete. "Well, I'm not so sure. If you think it's +going to be easy to pull wool over the eyes of this secretarial lady I +want to go on record with a dissenting opinion. I'd just about as soon +try to slip a fake passport over on St. Peter." + +"Well, I'm not going to be threatened," declared Bill. + +"Brave words, lord and master. Only it happens you _are_ threatened." + + * * * * * + +Mary sat for some time in the library, isolated with her thoughts. +Occasionally she smiled. At other times she frowned. There were also +brief periods when perplexity showed in her eyes. But at the last, as +she went up-stairs to her room, she was smiling again. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"MISS NORCROSS" WIELDS A CLUB + + +Nell Norcross--the real one--was sitting up in bed, unmistakably +convalescent. She had been listening to the adventures of Mary Wayne; +not all of the adventures, for Mary did not believe it was wise to +subject a patient to too much excitement, yet enough to convey the idea +that the introduction of Bill Marshall into society was not an affair of +mere toast and tea. + +"I feel," said Mary, "that at last I'm in a position to accomplish +something. I feel more established than I did at the beginning." + +"More influential," suggested Nell. + +"Exactly. You see, I have such strong moral support from Miss Marshall." + +"And from this valet you speak about," Nell reminded her. + +"I'm not so sure about him. He puzzles me." There was a calculating look +in Mary's eyes. "He keeps telling me that he wants to help, but I'm +always doubtful as to just what he is really driving at. But he won't +block me, at any rate; I'm able to take care of that." + +"Then everything looks quite simple, doesn't it?" + +"No, Nell; everything doesn't. That's the trouble. I'm in a strategic +position, if that's what you'd call it, but I don't know how to take +advantage of it." + +"Then wait for an opening," advised Nell. "One is bound to come." + +Mary shook her head. + +"I can't afford to wait," she said. "I could wait forever, as far as Mr. +Marshall is concerned, but I can see that his aunt is becoming +impatient. She thinks it is time that something really began." + +"What does she suggest, my dear?" + +"Nothing. That's the worst of it. She leaves it all to me. She is so +confident that I know everything there is to know about such matters. +She wants me to go right ahead with anything I decide upon. And if I +ever express any doubt about what to do first, she begins talking about +those wonderful references of mine--yours--and says that any young woman +with such an experience is competent to take full charge without +suggestions from anybody. And I don't know how to start, Nell, or what +to do." + +"She is really impressed by the references, is she?" mused Nell. + +"Tremendously." + +"Then it's certain you've got to make good." + +"Oh, absolutely. So that's why I've come to bother you." + +Nell was thoughtfully regarding a plate of white grapes that lay on her +lap. + +"So tell me how to start him off," said Mary. + +"H-m; let's see now. I never launched a man in society," said Nell, +wrinkling her nose. "I never was secretary to a man, you know. I imagine +they may be more difficult than girls." + +"This one is," affirmed Mary, with an emphatic nod. "He's so--so big, +for one thing." + +"Men are awfully awkward to handle," philosophized Nell. + +"I didn't say he was awkward; you misunderstood me. I merely said he was +big; he thinks he's too big for society. Of course, he isn't at all. He +handles himself very well." + +"Can he dance?" + +"He says not. But I'm not sure." + +"Why don't you try him out?" + +"I'd rather not," said Mary hastily. "I don't think that's one of my +duties." + +"Anything is your duty that will get him into society, my dear." + +"We-e-ell, possibly. But we're getting off the track, Nell. What am I to +do with him?" + +"Now, if he were a girl débutante, just being introduced, why---- There! +It's the very thing for him! Give him a coming-out party." + +"I'm afraid he wouldn't endure it," said Mary. "He's terribly afraid of +being mistaken for what he calls Rollo boys. If I planned a coming out +party he'd probably disappear for a month. The very name would make him +explode." + +"Don't call it by that name," said Nell. "Don't call it any name +particularly. Just have a party; at the house, of course. Invite all the +nice people you can get hold of. Let's see; there ought to be some +particular reason for the party. I've got it! He's about to make a tour +of the world, having finished his studies at college. This gives him an +opportunity to meet and entertain his friends before he starts, and also +furnishes something for everybody to talk about." + +Mary nodded as she listened. The idea sounded promising. But---- + +"Who will we invite, Nell?" + +"His friends, of course." + +"I'm afraid his friends are not in society," sighed Mary, as the vision +of a tin ear flashed into her mind. + +"Then his aunt's friends. She must know a lot of society people." + +"I don't think she has kept up her acquaintances." + +"That won't make a particle of difference, my dear. Miss Caroline +Marshall bears a name that will get her anywhere she wants to go. And it +will do as much for her nephew, too. It's a key that will open any +society lock; don't worry about that. Why, you could invite people that +Miss Marshall never met, and nine out of ten of them would jump at the +chance. Give him a party and it can't fail." + +"I really believe it can be done," said Mary thoughtfully. + +"Easiest thing in the world." + +"It will be a party, then. And now tell me all about the details." + +But when it came to details, Nell was less satisfying. She pleaded that +she was sleepy; the doctor had told her she must not talk too long. +Besides, anybody could work out the details. + +"The main thing is the idea," she said with a careless gesture. "I've +given you that. All you have to do is to develop it. Make him help you; +he'll probably have a lot of suggestions of his own." + +"You haven't met him," declared Mary. + +"I'd like to. He must be an extraordinary character." + +"I never said so, did I?" + +"No. But judging by the way you're all fussed up over this thing----" + +"Bosh!" said Mary, rising. "I'm not a bit fussed. It's as easy as +anything." + +But all the way back to the Marshall home Mary was reflecting upon the +difficulties, rather than the ease of the problem. The first thing to do +was to obtain the consent of Bill Marshall. It would be no use to +consult Aunt Caroline; that good lady would simply tell her to go right +ahead and do exactly as she pleased. She might, of course, call upon +Aunt Caroline to give Bill his orders in case he balked; but that would +be a confession of her own weakness. + +"I've got to persuade him myself," she decided, "even if it comes to +being ruthless." + +Just as she had foreseen, Bill objected strenuously and at once. He did +not want a party; he was not going around the world. But if she insisted +on having a lot of silly people at the house, he would start around the +world before they arrived, and he would never come back. Mary argued +with much patience. She even pointed out the danger that his aunt might +be driven back upon the plan suggested by his valet, Peter. But Bill was +in a particularly obdurate mood. Faced at last with a definite project, +he quailed. + +"We'll just let things drift a while," he told her. + +"No," said Mary. + +Bill grinned at her in an amiable way and said he thought he would go +out for a ride. + +"We're going to settle it," she declared. "You promised you'd let me +start." + +"But I never said when." + +"Well, this is the time, Mr. Marshall. We'll start now." + +Bill shook his head. Mary, who faced him across the table in the sun +parlor, tapped a forefinger on the writing-pad and looked him in the +eye. + +"Mr. Marshall," she said, "if you do not consent I shall be compelled to +go to your bondsman, withdraw from your bond and advise him to +surrender you to the court." + +Bill gasped. He swallowed. He stared. + +"And I shall do it this very afternoon," said Mary. + +"It isn't fair," he cried. "Why, you agreed----" + +"I simply agreed not to say anything to your aunt," she reminded him, +coldly. "And I shall not, of course. But I am entirely at liberty to go +to your bondsman. If your aunt should happen to hear about it when they +come to arrest you again, why that would be unfortunate. But it would be +something that could not be helped." + +Bill rose from his chair and leaned heavily on the table. He was red in +the face and glaring, but his secretary did not even wince. + +"You're threatening me!" he almost shouted. + +Mary shrugged. + +"It's blackmail, I tell you!" + +"On the contrary, it will all be strictly according to law," said Mary +with appalling calmness. + +"Pete put you up to this!" + +"I am not in the habit of discussing social affairs with your valet." + +"Then it's Aunt Caroline." + +"No. Your aunt left everything to me." + +Bill began shaking a formidable finger, but the table was between them +and Mary felt no immediate cause for apprehension. + +"I'll never stand for it. I won't have a party. I won't be here when it +happens. You're swinging a club on me. And last night I thought you were +a good sport!" + +"I merely intend to earn my salary," said Mary. "I make no pretensions +to being a sport. I could never hope to equal---- Well, we won't go +into the sporting phase of it, if you please." + +Bill was momentarily brought to halt. Then came another inspiration. + +"Call this off and I'll double your salary," he announced. + +Mary shook her head. + +"That's offering me a bribe," she said. "Besides, I believe your aunt +pays my salary." + +"I'll make up the difference out of my allowance." + +"No, thank you." + +Bill had never learned the science of dealing with women. There are +about 350,000,000 grown men in the world, all exactly like Bill. So, +while he felt that he had been singled out as the sole victim of a +Machiavellian female, in reality he had all mankind for a companion. The +sheer hopelessness of his plight made him calm again. + +"You admit that you're my secretary, don't you?" he asked. + +Mary nodded. + +"Then I'm entitled to your advice. Isn't that so?" + +"Yes," answered Mary, cautiously. "I wouldn't volunteer advice, but if +you ask it, that's different." + +"All right; I ask it. Advise me how I can duck this party." + +Mary laughed outright. + +"I couldn't possibly. I can only advise you that there isn't any way in +the world to duck it. And that's honest advice, Mr. Marshall." + +He resumed his chair and began drawing diagrams on a sheet of paper. +This occupation absorbed all his attention for several minutes. When he +glanced up he was grinning helplessly. + +"Some day I'll get even for this," he said, "but right now I'll admit +you've got me. Go ahead, but don't rub it into me any more than you have +to." + +"Why, of course I won't," declared Mary heartily. "All along I've been +trying to save you from getting into society another way." + +Bill nodded an acknowledgment of the fact. + +"What date shall it be?" she asked. + +"The quicker the better. I never got warmed up standing on the edge of a +swimming tank, wondering how cold the water was." + +"We'll make it as early as possible, then. Do you think it ought to be a +large party?" + +"No!" + +"Neither do I," agreed Mary. "But it ought to be exclusive--very +exclusive." + +"Are you reminding me of something?" + +"No," laughed Mary. "I wasn't thinking of that. Now, about the +invitations: do you think they should be engraved, or would it be a +little better to write personal notes to everybody?" + +"That's your end of the job. How do I know?" + +"I think perhaps I'd better consult one or two of the fashionable +stationers," said Mary. "I want to find out just what they're doing this +season." + +Bill looked at his watch. + +"All right; let's go and see the stationers now." + +"It's almost lunch-time, isn't it?" + +"Almost. That's why I want to go and see the stationers." + +"Oh," said Mary. + +"Come along. You owe me something after what you've done." + +She smiled at that, although she was not quite certain whether she ought +to go. Still, he had really surrendered, and she felt rather grateful to +him. + +"All right; I'll get my hat," she said. + +Five minutes later they were moving up Fifth Avenue in Bill's car. + +"Would you honestly have turned me over to the bondsman?" he asked +suddenly. + +"Let's talk about stationery," she reminded him. "I suppose for a man it +ought to be plain white." + +Bill turned to study her and bumped fenders with a taxicab. + +"Pink," he declared. + +"Pink! For a man?" + +"Pink, with little freckles on it," he said, taking another look. + +Mary lifted her chin and watched the traffic. Presently he turned into a +side street and ran on for half a block. + +"Anyhow, here's where we take lunch," he announced. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE LEOPARD'S SPOTS + + +Pete hitched the largest chair forward, lifted a foot to the top of +Bill's writing-table, crossed the other upon it and glared sourly at the +wall in front of him. + +"You'll get to like it yet," he predicted. + +"Bull!" observed Bill. "I'm a leopard. I can't change 'em." + +"You can have 'em changed for you all right. Many a good leopard has +been skinned, Bill." + +"What are you beefing about? You're responsible for getting me in on +this more than anybody else." + +"Oh, go ahead; lay off on me. It's a grand joke because you see I'm +down. Where do I come in?" + +"Where does anybody's valet come in?" countered Bill, as he stropped a +razor. + +"You said it. That's just the point. You're copping all the cream. I'm a +servant, that's all. It isn't neighborly, Bill. Gosh hang it, it isn't +democracy! Do you call it a square deal, sneaking her off to a lunch?" + +"That was business, Pete. We had to look at stationery. Beside, don't I +give you my evenings?" + +"Is it right that I eat in the servants' dining-room? Is it right that I +sleep in the servants' quarters? Me--your guest! Is that a way to treat +a guy who passed your college exams for you? And _she_ thinks I'm a +servant, too. I'll leave it to you if it's right." + +"But Aunt Caroline puts you in a class by yourself," observed Bill. +"Aunt Caroline doesn't misjudge you, Pete, even if you do claim to be a +valet." + +Pete allocated Aunt Caroline according to his idea of where she would do +the most good. + +"But _she_ treats me as if I was somebody to take orders from her," he +grumbled on. "She's losing her respect for me." + +"Oh, forget Miss Norcross." + +"What? Forget Gray Eyes? Forget little Nell? Why don't you try it +yourself, Bill?" + +"I don't have to. She's my secretary," said Bill maliciously. + +"She's your dancing-teacher, you mean. I've seen you at it; the two of +you. Getting ready for the party! Bill Marshall, you're losing your +character and your self-respect." + +Bill grinned complacently. + +"It isn't as if you needed to learn to dance," added Pete, as he kicked +a book off the table. "You can dance rings around her, if you want to. +But you're deceitful, Bill. She's got you one-twoing and three-fouring +all over the library, and you making believe it's all new stuff. It's a +gol darned shame, and I'm going to tell her so." + +"You're going to mind your own business or get busted," predicted Bill. +"It doesn't make any difference what I used to know about dancing; I +need practice. Besides, you can always go and talk theology to Aunt +Caroline. She's never busy." + +Pete groaned. + +"I'm laying off it--when she'll let me," he said miserably. "She's +getting interested in it, Bill. Yesterday I had to go and bone up some +more in the encyclopedia; I was all run out of stuff." + +"All right, son; only don't accuse me." + +Pete subsided into silence and Bill shaved. The young man who would be a +valet was not enjoying a happy morning. Part of it was because of the +night before, but some of the unhappiness lay rooted in the fact that +Bill's secretary persisted in taking him at face value. At the same time +Pete was convinced that she knew better; that there was a mocking +deliberation in the way that she held him to his bargain. + +"Confound it, Bill! That girl's no fool." + +"I said it first," Bill reminded him. "I said it days ago." + +"She knows darn well I'm something more than a valet." + +"She never said it to me, Pete; never even hinted at it. I don't believe +she even suspects." + +"Bill, that's an insult. If you say she doesn't even suspect, I'll +poison you. Why, any girl with good sense would suspect. Do I look like +a valet?" + +"Sure." + +Bill had finished shaving, so it was easy enough to dodge the book. + +There had been a good deal of talk like that ever since the party became +a fixed project. Pete Stearns was discovering that the business of +flinging gibes had become less profitable; either Bill's hide was +getting thicker or his perceptions were becoming dulled. It was no +longer possible always to get a rise; sometimes it shocked him to find +that he was rising himself. And then there was that secretary; she had +annoying moments of superiority. She was in a fair way to become a snob, +thought Pete, and just because she could not recognize the difference +between a real social gulf and one that was self-imposed. Some day he +was going to cross that gulf in a wild leap and make her feel silly. + +"Where you going now?" he demanded, as Bill made for the door. + +"Business, old dear. Cheer up." + +Bill's business was in the office on the second floor. It, or she--or +both--had been making a good many demands on his time. He bore them with +a fortitude that made him proud of himself. + +"Good morning," said Mary, looking up. "Any more names to suggest?" + +"Haven't we dug up enough?" + +"We should have a margin to allow for declinations. There are bound to +be a few, you know. Even some of the people who accept don't come." + +"I don't think of anybody else," said Bill. "You've got a whole lot of +people now that I never saw or heard of." + +"I'm quite proud of the list," she said. "Some of it is really +distinguished. And---- Oh, by the way, Mr. Marshall. Your aunt gave me +another name; you must know him, of course. Bishop Wrangell." + +"What! That old dodo?" + +"He's a bishop; a very old friend of your aunt's. And bishops are very +exclusive. I think it's fine to have a bishop." + +"He's a dodo," reaffirmed Bill. "He'll crab it all. Cut him off." + +"But I've already invited him," said Mary. "It's in the mail." + +"He'll talk everybody to death," groaned Bill. "I know him; he's been +here to dinner. It's a curse to have a party, but bishops are +damnation." + +"You surprise me," observed Mary. (He did not.) + +"But you don't know this bird and I do. He's so dry that the dust flies +out of him when he talks." + +"Well, I'm sorry, but it's done. I couldn't very well refuse your aunt." + +"Oh, I suppose not. Just because he's a bishop Aunt Caroline thinks he's +going to put her on the free-list when she hits heaven. A bishop! What +are we going to have at this party? Prayers?" + +Mary bent over her work until she was sure that she had command of +herself. + +"Say!" exclaimed Bill. "I know a stunt. Would it be all right to invite +my valet?" + +"No; I should think not," answered Mary. "You mean as a guest? Why in +the world do you want him?" + +"He could entertain the bishop. We could make that his special job. Come +on; let's do it." + +Mary smiled, but shook her head decisively. + +"Your guests would never forgive you if they discovered that you had +invited your valet. You see, such things are not done." + +She had slipped into the employment of that little phrase until it came +to her lips as a reason for almost any prohibition that dealt with the +social code. + +"But I want to do it as a special favor to Pete," urged Bill. + +"Or as a special penance, perhaps," said Mary, with a wise look. "No; +and besides, your valet will doubtless have his duties that evening. +He'll be needed in the gentlemen's dressing-room." + +Bill picked up a morning paper and turned to the sporting page. Suddenly +he looked up. + +"Say, if you can squeeze a bishop in at this stage of the game I ought +to be entitled to invite somebody else, hadn't I?" + +"Of course. I asked for suggestions." + +"Well, I want to invite a very, very good friend of mine." + +"Who?" asked Mary cautiously. + +"He's an Italian." + +She raised her eyebrows and wrinkled her forehead into an inquiry. + +"An artist," added Bill. + +"Oh! Now that sounds promising." + +"A wop artist. His name is Valentino." + +"Why, of course we've got room for him," she said. "I think it's a +splendid idea, Mr. Marshall. I hadn't any notion that you had friends in +the art world. I'm very much interested in art myself. What does he +paint?" + +"He's a sculptor," said Bill. + +"Better yet. That's even more distinguished. He must have the true +temperament." + +"Oh, barrels of it." + +"An impressionist or a realist." + +Bill considered. + +"I'd say he was a little of both. He's very strong on impressions, but +he produces them in a realistic way, if you can get what I mean." + +"His work has strength," commented Mary, with a nod of understanding. + +"You've got it. That's exactly it, Miss Norcross. He's young, but he's +already made a name for himself. He makes a specialty of working on +heads and busts." + +"His full name?" inquired Mary. + +"Antonio Valentino." + +"Oh, I like it," she exclaimed. "He's the only artist we'll have. +Perhaps another time we can get him to bring his friends. What is the +address, please?" + +"He has a studio over on the East Side. Wait a second." + +Bill searched a pocket and discovered a memorandum of the address. + +"And when you write," he advised, "don't address it to 'Mister,' Make it +'Signor.' He's accustomed to that and it'll please him." + +"Signor Antonio Valentino," said Mary, reading from her list. "Quite the +most distinguished name at the party, Mr. Marshall. That's the best +suggestion you've made yet." + +Bill smiled as though he had done a full morning's work. + +"And now, if you've nothing more for the present, I have errands to do," +she announced. "Will you excuse me?" + +"Don't I get another dancing lesson? I thought you said----" + +Mary shook her head as she gathered up some papers. + +"I've been thinking about your dancing," she said. "And I've come to the +conclusion, Mr. Marshall, that there isn't anything more I can teach +you. You've done so well that sometimes I suspect----" + +That seemed a good place to end the sentence and she walked out of the +room, leaving Bill to wonder whether Pete had not already played him +false. + +On her way out Mary remembered that she wanted to speak to Aunt Caroline +about the florist, but at the threshold of the library she paused. Aunt +Caroline was engaged. + +"I wish you'd continue where you left off yesterday," she was saying. + +"About what, madam?" It was the voice of the valet. + +"Why, it was about theology." + +"Ah, yes. But you see there are so many kinds. Do you remember just +which we were discussing? Speculative, philosophical, practical or +dogmatic?" + +"Mercy, Peter; how should I know? But it was interesting, so please go +on." + +"Very good, madam. I think we might go into the catechetical school for +a bit, and that will lead us up to the doctrine of penal substitution." + +"Splendid!" said Aunt Caroline. + +Mary tiptoed down the hall, holding a gloved hand tightly over her lips. +When she reached the street she let the laugh have its way. + +"Now what do you know about that?" she murmured. And Mary was not an +adept in the use of slang. + +Some hours later she was discussing final preparations with Nell +Norcross, who had convalesced to the point where she was sitting up in a +chair and taking a vivid interest in everything that concerned the +social fortunes of Bill Marshall, débutant. + +"And now I have a surprise for you," said Mary. "You're coming to the +party yourself!" + +"I?" exclaimed Nell. + +"You're quite well enough, and I'll need your help, my dear. I'm +counting on you." + +"But, Mary--oh, I can't." + +"Nonsense. I've spoken to Miss Marshall about it. I explained I had a +friend who had also done secretarial work and who really knew a great +deal more about it than I do, and she said by all means to bring you. +There won't really be anything for you to do, but you'll just be there +in case we need some expert advice." + +"I don't believe I'm strong enough," demurred Nell. + +"Yes, you are. I asked the doctor. He said it would do you good." + +"But I haven't a dress, Mary." + +"Yes, you have. I've ordered one--one for you and one for me. They're +with the compliments of Miss Marshall, they're perfect dreams and we're +the luckiest people alive." + +"You're a conspirator," complained Nell. "Honestly, Mary, I don't think +I ought to go. I'm sure I shouldn't." + +One of those determined looks flashed into Mary's face. + +"Nell Norcross, you've got to go. I won't let you stay away. It's time +you did something. Here I've been skating along on thin ice, bluffing +and pretending and telling fibs until I hardly know which is my real +name--yours or mine. Now I've reached the very climax and you've got to +see me through. I'm going to be adamant." + +Nell sighed. + +"You're a whole lot bossier than you were the day I met you in the Brain +Workers' Exchange," she said petulantly. + +"Don't ever mention that place," and Mary made a grimace. "It gives me +crawly little chills." + +"Will I have to bring any more references?" + +"No, you silly thing. References, indeed! Why, Nell, you won't go to +this party on references. You'll go on my reputation!" + +"Mary Wayne, I'm in awe of you." + +Mary laughed. + +"You wouldn't be if you knew how much I feel like a charlatan. It's all +on the outside, Nell. I am just hollow emptiness; the shell is the only +thing that holds me together." + +Nell made a gesture of reluctant assent. + +"I'll go if you'll let me meet the Italian sculptor," she said. "I adore +sculptors." + +"You can meet the sculptor and the bishop both," promised Mary. "And if +you're very good I'll let you meet the valet." + +"But not, of course, Mr. Marshall." + +"Pooh! That's nothing exciting. Anybody can meet him, my dear." + +"Mary," said Nell, "inside of the Marshall house you may be a marvelous +liar, but outside of it your work is really very poor." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE VALET IN THE HOUSE + + +A small, thin girl with large, vivid eyes, a blue dress and +collar-bones, who was zooming up-stairs two steps at a time, ran head on +into Bill, who was coming slowly down. Her head struck him at the waist +line and Bill sat down on a step. She immediately sat beside him. + +"Isn't this the funniest party!" she exclaimed. "Did I hurt you?" + +"It is, and you didn't," answered Bill. + +He had never seen her before. + +"I haven't seen a soul I know, except mother, who brought me here." + +"Neither have I," said Bill, glancing down-stairs at the crush. + +"Heaven knows why they invited us. Mother says that father used to know +somebody in the family years and years ago. She says they're really all +right, too. We just came because things have been so terribly dull in +town that we've been sitting home screaming. Do you ever feel like +screaming?" + +"Right now." + +"Go ahead," she advised. "I'm sure it will be all right. Anyhow, we +came. They have perfectly lovely things to eat. And the house is so +beautiful. But it's funny, just the same. Did you know there was a +bishop here?" + +"I heard so." + +"There is; he shook hands with me. He was so solemn; it seemed like +shaking hands with God. And there are piles of middle-aged people here, +aren't there? I don't mean there aren't any young ones, for of course +there are--just millions. But there are more middle-aged ones. Still, +the music is just wonderful. Who is the queer old lady who wears the +little cap?" + +"I believe she lives here," said Bill. + +"Well, she's perfectly dear. She patted me on the head and asked me if I +was Henry Kingsley's little girl. I told her I was; I didn't want to +disappoint her. But I'm not; I'm Arnold Gibbs's little girl. +And--somebody's else's." + +She chirped her way through the conversation like a voluble bird. + +"Engaged," she added, holding up a finger. "But he's not here, so it's +all right for me to sit on the stairs with you. Here's something else +that's funny: I haven't met the man they're giving the party for. Isn't +that a scream? Somehow, we got in late, or something or other. He's +awfully high-brow; oh, yes, I heard that the first thing. You're not +high-brow, are you?" + +Bill shook his head. + +"It's comfortable to know you're not," she said. "Whenever I meet an +intellect I make a holy show of myself. Did you know that he's sailing +for Australia to-morrow? Uhuh! He's going there to study something or +other. They told me that down-stairs, too. Let's see; what is it he's +going to study? Crustaceans! That's it. What are they? Negroes?" + +"I'm not up on them," said Bill. "Maybe." + +"Anyhow, he's going to study them. And then he's going to write volumes +and volumes about them. He's a scientist. Isn't it funny to be at a +scientific party? And--oh, yes; it seems there's been an affair in his +life. He's going away to bury his heart while he's studying the +thingamajigs. Did you ever hear of anything so romantic?" + +Bill turned his head for a better survey of the young person with the +astonishing information. + +"Where did you pick up all the info?" he inquired, as carelessly as he +could. + +"From a young man who knows all about him," answered Arnold Gibbs's +little girl. + +"What sort of a young man?" + +"Oh, a nice one. He's kind of thin and pale and he has baby-stare eyes." + +"Does he have funny wrinkles at the corners of them when he laughs?" +asked Bill. + +"That's exactly what he has!" she exclaimed. "How beautifully you +describe. Are you a detective? They have them at parties, you know." + +"No, I'm not a detective. I--er--just happen to know him, I think." + +Bill wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and stared straight ahead. + +"Where did you meet him?" he asked, after a pause. + +"Oh, down-stairs. You can meet anybody at a party, you know. It's +perfectly all right. If people weren't perfectly all right they wouldn't +be invited. He dances beautifully." + +"You mean to say----" + +"Twice. We danced out in the conservatory. It seems he's bashful; he +wouldn't go into the big room for fear he'd bump me into people or step +on their feet. He isn't sure of himself. But I don't see why, because he +dances excruciatingly well. But he wouldn't believe I was engaged, so I +had to run away from him." + +"I don't quite get that." + +"Kissed me," she sighed. "Oh, well, a party's a party. But I wouldn't +let him do it again." + +"Would you like to have me lick him?" asked Bill, his voice slightly +trembling. + +"Lick him? What in the world for? Because he didn't know? Why, what a +queer person you are!" + +Bill felt that he was, indeed, a very queer person. He was the owner of +a party at which his valet had danced twice with one of his guests and +kissed her as an additional token of democracy! He did not know whether +to rage or laugh. But--oh, if Aunt Caroline ever heard of it! Or his +secretary! + +"Perhaps you'd like to dance with me," she added. + +Bill was startled. But he mumbled an affirmative. + +"Let's go, then," and she trotted down-stairs ahead of him, as eager as +a kitten chasing a paper ball. + +In the lower hall Bill felt a touch on his arm and turned to face Mary +Wayne. + +"May I interrupt just a moment?" she asked. Then to the girl: "I know +you'll excuse me. I won't keep Mr. Marshall a minute." + +The small one in the blue dress gave a frightened stare at Bill, +shrieked and fled into the crowd. + +"Have I offended her?" asked Mary, anxiously. "I'm sorry. I don't seem +to place her, although I've been trying to remember all the guests." + +"That's Arnold Gibbs's little girl," explained Bill. "She's been telling +me things about my party and now she's just discovered who I am." + +"Oh! And you let the poor child go on and on, of course. How awfully +mean of you. Will you never learn?" Mary frowned at him with all the +severity of a sister. "But that's not what I wanted to speak to you +about. You've been hiding--and you mustn't! People are asking where you +are. Please--please don't spoil things. It's your party and you've just +got to be present at it." + +Bill made a face. + +"I'm tired of being exhibited," he growled. "I'm tired of meeting people +who say: 'So this is little Willie Marshall. Mercy, how you've grown! I +haven't seen you since you wore knickerbockers. But you're a Marshall, +sure enough; you're the image of your father.' I tell you, I'm sick of +it!" + +"But it's only for once," pleaded Mary. "Now they've met you they won't +do it again. But what I want you to do now is to go in and dance with +some of the young people. There are some lovely girls in there, and +they're just sitting around. Come; I'll introduce you, if you haven't +already met them." + +But Bill hung back. He did not want to dance at all; he was grateful +because his secretary had inadvertently saved him from Arnold Gibbs's +little girl. There was woe in his eyes as he looked at Mary. There was +every sound reason why his expression should have been different, for +Mary, in her party gown from Aunt Caroline, inspired anything but woe. +Even she herself was conscious of the fact that she looked nice. Bill +was becoming slowly conscious of it himself, although he could not drive +the gloom out of his soul. + +"Come," she said, peremptorily, hooking her arm in his. + +"I'll dance with you," he offered. + +"That won't do at all. I'm not a guest." + +"If I can't dance with you I won't dance with anybody." + +She shook her head impatiently. + +"Please be sensible, Mr. Marshall." + +"You first," declared Bill stubbornly. + +"No! It's not the thing for you to do at all. Perhaps later; but----" + +"We'll go out in the conservatory and dance." + +"But nobody is dancing out there." + +"Come on, then." + +Bill started, with her arm prisoned in a grip that forbid escape. + +"Well, if I dance with you," said Mary, as she was dragged along, "then +afterward you must promise to----" + +"Maybe." + +They stood at the entrance to the conservatory, Mary still scolding in +an undertone. Suddenly she pinched his arm violently and pointed. An +animated couple were swinging into view from behind a patch of palms. +His valet--and Arnold Gibbs's little girl! + +"Oh, Heavens!" said Mary. + +She fled, with Bill trailing in her wake. + +Even at that, it was not a bad party. It was somewhat overwhelmed with +descendants, it is true; descendants of relatives and of old friends and +of persons who were intimates of Bill Marshall's grandfather. But some +of the descendants were young and were managing to have a good time. +Aunt Caroline had her own circle, a sort of little backwater, into which +descendants eddied and tarried a bit, and from which they eddied out +again. In fact, Aunt Caroline had a party within a party. Her permanent +guest seemed to be the bishop; once caught in the backwater he never +escaped into the stream. He stayed there with Aunt Caroline, while the +descendants whirled gently around them. But the bishop was amiable in +his dusty way, while his dignity was unimpeachable. He had made an +impression on Arnold Gibbs's little girl, and what more could any bishop +do? + +Nell Norcross, known to the household and its guests as "Miss Wayne," +did not prove to be such a reliance as Mary hoped. Perhaps it was +because she was a convalescent and did not feel equal to the ordeal of +plunging boldly into affairs; perhaps it was due to a natural diffidence +among strangers. But whatever it was, Mary discovered that she was +almost wholly upon her own resources; that Nell was not rising capably +to the emergency; that she edged off into the middle distance or the +background with irritating persistence; that, in short, Nell, with all +her wealth of experience and all her highly attested worth as an expert, +was unable to adapt herself to the situation so well as the amateur +secretary. Nell even admitted this shortcoming to Mary. + +"I feel strange because I'm being called by your name," she offered as +an explanation. + +"Mercy," said Mary. "How about me?" + +"But you've become accustomed to it, my dear. Never mind; I'm sure I'll +brighten up as soon as the sculptor comes." + +"There! I'd forgotten him. Oh, I hope he doesn't fail. I must find Mr. +Marshall and ask him if he's heard anything. Have you seen him? I'll +hunt around for him. I suppose he's trying to hibernate again." + +And once more Mary started on the trail of Bill Marshall, for the double +purpose of dragging him back into society and inquiring as to the +whereabouts of the _signor_ from Italy. + +Pete Stearns was in purgatory. He had been sent for by Aunt Caroline, +discovered by a servant and haled to the backwater, into which he was +irresistibly sucked. + +"Bishop," said Aunt Caroline, "this is the young man of whom I spoke." + +The bishop took Pete's hand, pressed it gently and retained it. + +"My young friend," he said, "you are on the threshold of a career that +offers you priceless opportunities. Have you looked well into your +heart? Do you find yourself ready to dedicate your whole life to the +work?" + +"Sir," replied Pete, with a shake in his voice, "it is my ambition to +become nothing less than a bishop." + +"There! I told you so," said Aunt Caroline. + +"Have you a sound theological foundation?" asked the bishop, still +holding Pete's hand. + +"I should say he had!" exclaimed Aunt Caroline. "What was it you were +telling me about yesterday, Peter? The cat--cat----" + +"The catechetical lectures of Cyril of Jerusalem," said Pete smoothly. +"From that we go on to the doctrines of Arius of Antioch." + +"That would be going backward," commented the bishop. + +"Huh! Oh, certainly, sir, strictly speaking. But we have been skipping +around a bit, if I may say it, sir. Hitting the high--that is, sir, +taking up such matters as interest us. Theistic philosophy, ethical +rationalism, Harnack's conception of monophysticism, Gregory of Nyssa, +Anselm of Canterbury----" + +"Who wrote the 'Canterbury Tales,'" interrupted Aunt Caroline. "Wasn't +that what you told me, Peter?" + +But Peter was hurrying on. + +"Miss Marshall has been good enough, sir, to show some small interest in +my work; it has been a great encouragement to me. I may say that in the +field of philosophical and speculative theology----" + +"Stick to the dogmatic, my friend," advised the bishop--"the dogmatic +and the special dogmatic. Be sound, whatever you are. Now, here is a +test I apply to every young man; it shows the trend of his thought, it +tells me whether he has embarked upon the proper course; give me, my +young friend, an outline of your views on diophysite orthodoxy." + +Pete coughed and lifted his glance to the ceiling. + +"Confound the old coot!" he was telling himself. "He has me out on a +limb. What will I do? How in----" + +And then--rescue! A small person in a blue dress floated into the +backwater. + +"Oh, here's my nice man," she said, as she possessed herself of Pete's +arm. "Bishop, let go of his hand. He's going to teach me that new vamp +thing. Hurry, teacher; the music started ages ago." + +And as Pete was towed out of the backwater by Arnold Gibbs's little girl +the bishop and Aunt Caroline stared after him. + +"I greatly fear," observed the bishop, "that our young friend is +somewhat in the grip of predestinarianism." + +"Bishop, you frighten me," said Aunt Caroline. "But I'll take it up with +him in the morning." + +When another partner had invaded the conservatory and claimed the little +girl in the blue dress, Pete Stearns sighed. + +"There goes the only one who doesn't suspect me," he said. "The only +real little democrat in the place. Although it's only ignorance in her +case, of course. Oh, well, it's not so bad; I'm doing better than Bill +at that." + +Somebody tapped him on the arm. + +"I've been waiting for an opportunity," said Nell Norcross. "I do not +wish to make a scene. But I understand that you are Mr. Marshall's +valet. Is that correct?" + +Pete looked her in the eye and speculated. + +"I think I am not mistaken," said Nell, after she had waited +sufficiently for an answer. "May I ask, then, if it is customary for +valets to dance with the guests of their employers?" + +"Madam," said Pete, "may I in turn ask by what authority you question +me?" + +"There is nothing mysterious about my position in this house," replied +Nell. "I am here as an assistant to Miss--Norcross." It was annoying to +stumble over the name. "Miss Marshall understands perfectly; I am here +at her request. I think you will do a very wise thing if you retire to +the gentlemen's dressing-room and remain there. Am I clear?" + +It was Pete's first glimpse at close hand of the social secretary's +aide. It did not bore him in the least. He might have described her +pallor as "interesting," had he been prone to commonplaces. Her eyes, he +thought, were even better than those of Arnold Gibbs's little girl; they +were not so vivid, perhaps, yet more deeply luminous. + +"Let us debate this matter," he said. "Will you sit down?" + +"Certainly not!" + +"Aw, let's." + +He spoke with a disarming persuasion, but Nell refused to be seated. + +"Will you go up-stairs at once?" she demanded. + +Pete placed a finger against his lips and glanced from side to side. +"Suppose," he said, "I were to tell you a great secret?" + +"Go at once!" + +"Suppose we exchange secrets?" he whispered. + +That startled her. What did he mean? Did he know anything--or suspect? + +"Suppose----" He stopped, turned his head slightly and listened. +"Something is happening," he said. "Let's run." + +And before Nell Norcross knew it she was running, her hand in his, for +all the world like _Alice_ in the Looking Glass Country dashing +breathlessly along, with the _Red Queen_ shouting: "Faster! Faster!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +SIGNOR ANTONIO VALENTINO + + +As they reached the front of the house they heard the voice of the +announcer: + +"Signor Antonio Valentino." + +They saw Mary Wayne dexterously crowding her way forward; they saw her +look, gasp, utter a faint cry and freeze into an attitude of horror. + +And then they saw Bill Marshall, wearing a whole-hearted grin of +delight, rush forward to greet his friend, the eminent artist from +Italy. + +Signor Valentino was short and dark. He had a flattened nose that +drifted toward the left side of his face. He had a left ear that was of +a conformation strange to the world of exclusive social caste, an ear +that--well, to be frank, it was a tin ear. He had large, red hands that +were fitted with oversize knuckles. His shoulders rocked stiffly when he +walked. His eyes were glittering specks. + +"H'lo, Bill, yo' old bum," said the signor. + +"Kid, I'm glad to see you. You look like a million dollars." + +And Bill seized Kid Whaley's hand, pumped his arm furiously and fetched +him a mighty wallop on the shoulder. + +The signor did, indeed, look like a million dollars. He wore the finest +Tuxedo coat that could be hired on the East Side. His hair was greased +and smoothed until it adhered to his bullet head like the scalp +thereof. There was a gold-tipped cigarette between his lips. The bow +tie that girded his collar had a daring pattern of red. In a shirt front +that shone like a summer sea was imbedded a jewel whose candle-power was +beyond estimate, so disconcerting was it to the unshielded eye. A +matchless brilliant of like size illuminated a twisted finger. His +waistcoat was jauntily but somewhat sketchily figured in dark green, on +a background of black. + +"I got everythin' but th' shoes, Bill," confided the signor in a public +whisper. "They gimme a pair that was too small an' I chucked 'em." + +Thus it was that the signor wore his own shoes, which were yellow, and +knobby at the toes and had an air of sturdiness. + +"You're great," said Bill, as he pounded him again on the shoulder. +"What made you so late?" + +But the signor did not seem to hear. His glance was roving, flashing +here and there with a shiftiness and speed that bewildered. + +"Some dump and some mob," was his ungrudging tribute. "What's th' price +of a layout like this, Bill? I'm gonna get me one when I lick the +champ." + +The rigid pose of Mary Wayne suddenly relaxed. She appeared to deflate. +Her muscles flexed; her knees sagged. She backed weakly out of the crowd +and found support against the wall. + +As for Pete Stearns, there was a rapt stare of amazed admiration on his +face. He turned and whispered to Nell, whose hand he still gripped: + +"The son of a gun! He held out on me. He never tipped me a word. But, +oh, boy, won't he get his for this!" + +As for Bill Marshall, he was presenting Signor Antonio Valentino to his +guests. Some of the bolder even shook hands, but the uncertain ones +bowed, while those of unconcealed timidity or ingrained conservatism +contented themselves with glances which might have been either +acknowledgments or a complete withdrawal of recognition. + +The signor was unabashed. The days of his stage fright were long past; +to him a crowd was an old acquaintance. He turned to Bill with a bland +grin. + +"Gee, Bill, ain't it funny how I'm a riot anywhere I go? Y' don't even +have to tell 'em I'm Kid Whaley." + +Bill tucked the signor's arm under his and was leading him through the +reception-room. In his own mind there was a faint twinge of misgiving. +It was a great adventure, yes; it represented his defiance of Aunt +Caroline, of the social secretary, of the career that they were carving +for him. It was not open defiance, of course; Bill had intended that it +should be subtle. He was undermining the foundations, while at the same +time appearing to labor on the superstructure. Presently the whole false +edifice would crash and there would be no suspicion that he was the +author of disaster. That was the reasoning part of his plotting. The +remainder--perhaps the greater part--was sheer impulse. He was +cooperating with the devil that lurked within him. + +Now the real test was coming. He summoned his moral reserves as he +leaned over and whispered: + +"Kid, you're going to meet my aunt. Watch your step. Spread yourself, +but be careful. Do you remember what I told you?" + +"Sure," said the Kid, easily. "I'll put it over. Watch me." + +"If you fall down I'm gone." + +"I ain't ever fell down yet. Ring the gong." + +Aunt Caroline and the bishop were still in the backwater as Bill +arrived with the new bit of flotsam. The amiable old chatelaine glanced +up. + +"Mercy!" she murmured. + +"Signor Antonio Valentino," said Bill, with a bow. + +Instantly Aunt Carolina smiled and extended her hand. + +"Oh! Why, we had almost given you up. I'm so glad you did not fail us. +William has told me----" + +"Wotever Bill says is right," interrupted the signor. "He's a white guy. +Pleased t' meetcha." + +Aunt Caroline's hand crumpled under the attack, but she suffered without +wincing and turned to the bishop. + +"Bishop, this is the sculptor of whom I spoke." + +The bishop was staring. His eyebrows were rising. For an instant only he +was studying Bill Marshall. + +"Pleased t' meetcha, bish." + +It was a greeting not according to diocesan precedents, nor was the +shaking of hands that followed it, yet the bishop survived. "It is very +interesting to know you, sir," he murmured, non-committally. + +Aunt Caroline was devoting her moment of respite to a study of Signor +Valentino. She knew, of course, that it was not polite to stare at a +man's ear, or at his nose, but these objects held her in a sort of +wondering fascination. In advance she had formed no clear picture of +what a sculptor should be; he was the first she had met. Yet, despite +her inexperience and lack of imagination, she was conscious that this +sculptor did not match very closely even the hazy ideal that was in her +mind. + +Bill nudged the signor, and the signor suddenly remembered. He was +expected to explain, which he could do readily. It was merely a matter +of feinting for an opening. Ah--he had it. + +"It's cert'nly a grand little thing t' break trainin', lady. This here +sculptor game is a hard life. Y' been pipin' me ear, ain't y'?" + +Aunt Caroline lifted a hand in embarrassed protest and tried to murmur a +disclaimer. + +"W'y, it's all right, lady," said the signor, with generous reassurance. +"It's one o' me trade-marks. Say, y'd never guess how I got it. Listen: +I landed on it when I did a Brodie off a scaffold in th' sixteenth +chapel. Uhuh; down in Rome." + +"Sistine!" It was a violent whisper from Bill. + +"Sistine," repeated the signor. "That's wot hung it on me, lady. I was +up there a coupla hundred feet--easy that--copyin' off one o' them +statues of Mike th' Angelus. You know th' guy; one o' th' old champs. +All of a sudden, off I goes an' down on me ear. Gee, lady, it had me +down f'r nine all right; but I wasn't out. Ain't never been out yet. So +I goes up again an' finishes th' job in th' next round. That's th' kind +of a bird I am, lady." + +Aunt Caroline nodded dumbly. So did the bishop. + +"I got th' twisted beezer in th' same mixup," added the signor, as he +scratched his nose reflectively. "First I lit on me ear an' then I +rolled over on me nose. But, gee; that's nothin'. Guys in my game gotta +have noive." + +"It would appear to require much courage," ventured the bishop. + +"You said it," advised the signor. "But y' gotta have noive in any game, +bish. Yes, ma'am; y' gotta have guts." + +Aunt Caroline steadied herself against the bishop's arm. + +"The signor," explained Bill, "unconsciously slips into the +vernacular." + +"Slippin' it in on th' vernacular is one o' me best tricks," assented +the signor. "Lady, I remember once I caught a guy on th' vernacular----" + +Bill was pinching him. The signor remembered and shifted his attack. + +"See them mitts?" he asked, as he held forth a pair of knotted hands. +"All in the same game, lady. Y' see, I got a studio in Naples, just like +th' one I got over on th' East Side. This is th' way I get from handlin' +them big hunks of Carranza marble." + +Again Bill pinched the sculptor, who inclined his tin ear for counsel. + +"Cheese it, Kid; you're in Mexico. Get it right--Carrara." + +"Sure," observed the signor, undisturbed. "This here Carrara marble, +lady, is all heavyweight stuff. It's like goin' outa y'r class t' handle +it. I don't take it on regular." + +"I--I've heard so much of the Carrara marble," said Aunt Caroline. + +"There ain't nothin' better f'r hitchin' blocks, pavin' stones an' +tombstones," declared the signor. Then, with an inspiration: "An' +holy-stones, too. Get that, bish? Holy-stones. Ain't that a hot one? +Hey, Bill, did you get it? I'm tellin' the bish they take this here +Carranza marble----" + +Bill interrupted firmly. + +"I doubt if the bishop would be interested in the details, signor," he +said. "Your work speaks for itself. You see"--to the bishop--"while the +signor fully understands all the purposes for which Carrara marble may +be used, he is really a specialist on heads and busts." + +"Portrait work," suggested the bishop, still a trifle dazed. + +"Exactly. The expression that he can put into a face is often +marvelous." + +"Do you think," inquired Aunt Caroline, hesitating as though she were +asking the impossible, "that he would consent to show some of his work +here?" + +"Any time, lady; any time," said the signor heartily. "Only I ain't +brung me workin' clothes an'----" + +He broke off as his glance enveloped a figure standing in a doorway that +led to the hall. + +"My Gawd! It's Pete!" + +And Signor Valentino was gone in a rush of enthusiastic greeting. + +"Why, he knows your valet, William," said Aunt Caroline. + +"I have had Peter over at his studio; he's interested in ecclesiastical +art, you know." + +"Of course; I might have known." Aunt Caroline hesitated for an instant, +then: "William, does he always talk in that curious manner?" + +Bill nodded and sighed. + +"It's due to his spirit of democracy," he explained. "He chooses to live +among the lowly. He loves the people. He falls into their way of speech. +I'll admit that it may sound strange, Aunt Caroline----" + +"Oh, I wasn't objecting," she said, hastily. "I know so little about the +foreign artists that I am ignorant; that's all." + +"Some time, Aunt Caroline, I should like to have the signor bring some +of his fellow-artists here. At a small affair, I mean." + +"And you certainly shall, William. By all means." + +Now, Bill was not wholly satisfied with this. He had been relying upon +the Kid to do him a certain service. He was using him in the hope of +destroying Aunt Caroline's illusions concerning art, society and other +higher things. He had no idea that the Kid would score anything that +resembled a triumph. But now it was evident to him that in certain +phases of life he had never sufficiently plumbed the innocence of his +maiden aunt. + +"He seems to interest you," he ventured, with a view to exploration. + +"Strength and endurance are qualities always to be admired in a man," +said Aunt Caroline, as glibly as if it came out of a book. "I had never +dreamed that art developed them. Bishop, were you aware of it?" + +The bishop was staring pointedly at Bill. + +"I--er--no. That is--well, it is probable that I have never given +sufficient attention to certain of the arts." + +He continued to stare at Bill, until that gentleman began to feel that +the bishop was not so unsophisticated as he seemed. + +"If you'll excuse me, Aunt Caroline, I'll hunt up the signor. I wouldn't +have him feel that I am neglecting him." + +But the signor was no longer standing in the doorway, talking to Pete +Stearns. Nor was he out in the hall, where Bill immediately searched. A +hasty exploration of the dining-room did not discover him. + +"Now, where in blazes did he go?" muttered Bill, in an anxious tone. + +He started on a run toward the front of the house and barely managed to +avert a collision with his social secretary. + +"Say, have you seen----" + +She checked him with a stabbing glance. + +"Do you know what you've done?" she demanded. + +"Why, I----" + +"Are you sane enough to realize?" + +Bill had never seen quite such an expression in her eyes. They +fascinated him; almost they inspired him with awe. He even forgot the +freckles. + +"But I'm looking for the signor." + +"Signor!" she echoed. "Well, never mind him. He's gone. Just for the +moment, there's something else----" + +"Gone? But he just came!" + +Mary's jaw had developed an angle of grimness. + +"I had him put out of the house," she said. "Yes, and I helped! I had +him thrown out by servants. Do you know what he did?" + +Bill experienced a sudden shrinking of the skin at his throat and down +the sides of his neck. + +"He met my friend--Miss Wayne--and----" Mary beat a clenched fist into +her palm. "Because she spoke pleasantly to him he--he seized her! And he +kissed her! And--now do you see what you've done?" + +"I'm sorry," said Bill, in a stumbling whisper. + +"Sorry!" Mary's face was aflame. "Sorry! But never mind that now. She +has fainted. She was just recovering from an illness. It will probably +kill her. Do you understand? I'll have to send for an ambulance. +I'll----" + +Bill led the way at a run and reached the second floor. + +"Where is she?" he demanded. + +"You mean the sick lady?" asked the up-stairs maid. "Peter has taken her +home, sir. He asked me to tell you that he would use your car." + +"Better, was she?" + +"A little hysterical, sir; but she could walk." + +Bill breathed more comfortably. He turned to Mary Wayne. + +"Everything's all right, I guess," he said. + +"You think so?" she inquired icily. "You are easily reassured, Mr. +Marshall." + +Bill shrugged. + +"Oh, well; I'm sorry it happened, of course. I guess I'd better go back +to the party, perhaps." + +Not that he wanted to go back to the party; he simply wanted to get away +from those awful eyes of Mary Wayne. + +"There will be no need for you to do that," she said. "Everybody is +going. Everything is ruined! Everything--oh, how could you?" + +"I'll take a look around, anyhow," he said. + +She reached forth a hand and seized him by the sleeve. + +"You will not!" she said, hotly. "You won't look around anywhere. You'll +come straight into the office and talk to me!" + +"But----" + +"At once!" + +So he followed her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MARY RESIGNS + + +When the car reached a clear block, Pete turned his head for a hurried +glimpse at the partly-huddled figure at his right. + +"Air doing you any good?" he asked. + +"I--I think so." + +Miss Norcross spoke uncertainly. She was not quite clear concerning even +such a matter as air. + +Pete skillfully lighted a cigarette without checking the car's pace. He +smoked in silence for several blocks. + +"How did you like our little party?" he inquired. + +No answer. + +"He didn't mean any harm; that was only his way of being democratic." + +There was no comment from Miss Norcross. + +"Of course," mused Pete, "when you take the warm and impulsive +Neapolitan nature and stack it up against the New England conscience you +produce a contact of opposites. Looking at the matter impartially----" + +"Please stop talking to me." + +"Why?" + +"For excellent reasons." + +"Because I am a valet?" + +"Because you choose to forget your position," said Nell, sharply. + +Pete sighed mournfully. + +"Everywhere it's the same," he said. "They all draw the line. It'll +haunt me even when I'm a bishop. Did you know I was going to be a +bishop? I am. But, of course, being once a valet will have its +advantages as well as its drawbacks. I'll be able to clean and press my +own robes. I'll be a neat bishop if I'm nothing else. If there's one +thing I dislike it's a dowdy bishop. You just run over all your bishop +friends and you'll appreciate what I mean." + +"Stop talking!" + +"I don't believe you mean that, Miss Wayne. I believe that you have a +secret liking for my conversation. Most people have. You see, it's like +this: when I was a young boy----" + +Nell sat up abruptly and looked about her. + +"Where are you taking me to?" she demanded. + +"I thought I'd drop you at the Ritz. That's where you live, isn't it? +You have the Ritz manner." + +"We've got to go back," she said furiously. "I don't live up this way at +all. I live down-town." + +"Well, you didn't tell me," said Pete, mildly. "You just let me go right +on driving. I never dreamed of taking you anywhere except to the Ritz." + +She told him the address and huddled back into her seat. Pete merely +elevated an eyebrow as he turned the car. + +"To return to our discussion of the party," he said, "it is unfortunate +that you fainted before Signor Valentino took his departure. There were +features connected with his exit that were unique. But I am greatly +afraid that my master, Mr. Marshall, will have difficulty in making +explanations. To bring your dearest friend to your house and then----" + +"If you don't stop talking I'll shriek." + +"We shall see. To make it interesting, I'll bet you five dollars that +you don't." + +And he continued to talk, smoothly, placidly and without cessation. She +did not shriek. She did not even whimper. She sat in outraged silence, +her hands clenched, her brain swimming with the futility of trying to +puzzle out this mystery of Bill Marshall's valet. + +"And so we arrive," said Pete, as he stopped the car in front of the +boarding house and glanced up at its gloomy front. "No shrieking, no +police whistles, no general alarm. Allow me." + +He assisted her from the car and escorted her across the sidewalk. "You +need not come up the steps," she said. + +But already he was urging her up the steps, with a firm yet considerate +grip on her arm. Also, he rang the bell. + +"Thank you," said Nell, hurriedly. "That will be all, if you please." + +"Suppose they should not hear your ring? Suppose you had to sit on the +top step all night? No; I should never forgive myself. It is my duty to +remain until---- Ah! The concierge." + +The door opened and the landlady peered out into the vestibule. + +"Madam," said Pete, removing his hat, "I have the honor to leave in your +charge Miss Wayne. May I ask that you show her every consideration, +inasmuch as she is somewhat indisposed?" + +"Miss Wayne?" echoed the landlady. "There's nobody here----" + +And then, in a flicker of light that came from the hallway, she +established an identification. At the same instant Nell pushed weakly +past her and stumbled into the house. + +"There! I told her she wasn't fit to go out," declared the landlady. "I +warned her. I knew she'd pay for it. But you can't drill sense into +some people; not a particle." + +She seemed to be soliloquizing, rather than addressing the stranger on +her doorstep. But Pete was not interested in the soliloquy. There was a +matter that mystified him. He interrupted. + +"When I presented Miss Wayne did I understand you to say----" + +She suddenly remembered that he was there. + +"None of your business, young man. And don't stand around on my front +stoop." + +Then she was gone, with a slamming of the door that echoed through the +lonely block. Pete decided that her advice was sound; there was nothing +to be achieved by standing there. He walked down the steps, climbed into +the car and drove slowly off. + +"Something is peculiar," he observed, half aloud. "Let us examine the +facts." + +All the way back to the Marshall house he examined the facts, but when +he backed the car into the garage he had reached no conclusion. + +Another conversation had been in progress during the time that Pete +Stearns was playing rescuer to a stricken lady. It took place in the +"office," a term that Mary Wayne had fallen into the habit of applying +to the sun parlor where she transacted the affairs of Bill Marshall. For +a considerable time all of the conversation flowed from one pair of +lips. To say that it flowed is really too weak a characterization; it +had the fearsome speed and volume of an engulfing torrent. + +Bill walked during most of it. He could not manage to stay in one place; +the torrent literally buffeted him about the room. He felt as helpless +as a swimmer in the Niagara rapids. Never before had he realized the +conversational possibilities of a social secretary. He was particularly +disquieted because she did not rant. She did not key her voice high; she +did not gesture; she did not move from her chair. She simply sat there, +pouring scorn upon him in appallingly swift and even tones. She drenched +him with it; she seemed in a fair way to drown him. + +At last, inevitably, there came a pause. There was awe as well as +surprise in the gaze with which Bill contemplated her. She sat stiffly +on the edge of her chair, pinker in the cheeks than he had ever seen her +before, with her lips tightly set and her eyes glowing. + +"That's more than I ever stood from anybody," he said slowly. + +"Then you have been neglected in the past," was the comment she shot +back. + +"My aunt never went as far as you have." + +"She would if she appreciated what you have done. When I think of the +way you have deceived that dear old woman it makes me want to be an +anarchist. Even now she doesn't understand what you've done. She doesn't +know that you deliberately ruined everything; she's too innocent to +suspect. All your guests know; all the servants know--everybody knows +except your poor aunt. But you've imposed on her, you have deceived her, +you have lied to her----" + +"Oh, hold on there, please." + +"Well, you have!" cried Mary. "And you've lied to me." + +"How?" he demanded. + +"You ask me that! Do I need to remind you? You said you were bringing a +friend, an artist. You even lied about his name. And then you had the +effrontery to bring into this house a disreputable bruiser----" + +"Now, wait a minute," commanded Bill. "I didn't lie about his name. I +told you the truth. His name is exactly as I gave it--Antonio +Valentino." + +"I don't believe a word of it." + +"Simply because you're ignorant about a lot of things. Probably you +don't know that nearly every wop fighter in New York City goes into the +ring under an Irish name. It's done for business reasons mostly. This +man's name is Valentino; he was born in Italy. But when he fights it's +Kid Whaley. And if you don't choose to believe me, write to any sporting +editor and he'll tell you." + +But Mary was not to be thrust aside. + +"It makes no difference what his real name is, you concealed his +identity. You deliberately deceived me. Not that _I_ care," she added +bitterly. "I'm thinking of your aunt and the reputation of her home." + +"How could I help it if you misunderstood me?" demanded Bill. "I said he +was an artist, didn't I? Well, he is. He's next to the top in his +line, and it won't be long before he takes first place. If you ever saw +him fight you'd understand what art is." + +"You said he was a sculptor." + +"Well, he is, too, in a way. That may be a bit of artistic license, but +he's a sculptor. I've seen him take a man, go to work on him, carve him +up and change him so that you couldn't identify him with anything short +of finger prints. He's a sculptor of human beings. He works on heads and +busts; I said he did, didn't I? And I said he was an impressionist and a +realist rolled into one. And he is. A man can do impressionistic work +with a pair of six-ounce gloves just as well as he can with a paint +brush or a chisel. And you yourself suggested that his work must have +strength, and I agreed with you." + +Bill rather hoped that this would settle it; not that he banked heavily +on the soundness of his defense, but rather because he felt that it was +technically adroit. Mary simply curled a lip and regarded him with fresh +scorn. + +"That's what I call a very cowardly explanation," she said. "You know as +well as I do that it's worthless. It doesn't explain the fact that you +let me deceive myself and made me the instrument for deceiving your +aunt. I'd have more respect for you if you came out boldly and admitted +what you've done." + +Bill was beginning to glare. + +"If you think I'm going to throw down my friends in order to get into +society, then I'll stay out." + +"You'd better change your friends," she advised. "So long as you have +friends who are an offense to decent people----" + +"Stop right there!" warned Bill. "I pick my own friends and I stick by +'em. The Kid has been a good friend of mine and I've tried to be a good +friend of his. He's helped me out of more than one hole. And I've helped +him. I backed him in his first big fight and got him started on the +uproad. I've backed him more than once and I'll back him again, if he +asks me to. Why can't you be reasonable about this? Suppose he is a +fighter. He's a friend of mine, just the same. And what's a little scrap +now and then between friends?" + +Mary stared at him in cold silence. He mistook it for wavering. He felt +that it was time to fling back the tide. + +"I didn't choose to go into society, did I? I was dragged into it--and +you were hired to drag me. Now you take the job of trying to come +between me and my friends. You try to make a Rollo out of me. Would any +self-respecting man stand for that?" + +Bill was working up to it as he went along. + +"I think you'd better remember your position and mine. If I were you, +I'd bear in mind that you're my secretary--not my boss. If I were +you----" + +Mary sprang to her feet. "I'm _not_ your secretary!" she cried, in a +trembling voice. + +"Oh, but I think you've already admitted that," he said, with an angry +laugh. + +"Well, I'm not now! I was, but not any more. I resign! Do you hear? _I +resign!_" + +Saying which, she sat down again and burst into tears. + +The wrath in Bill's eyes faded slowly. In its place came a look of +dismay, of astonishment, of clumsy embarrassment. He began shifting his +feet. He took his hands out of his pockets and put them back again. He +chewed his lip. + +"Aw, hell!" he muttered under his breath. + +Mary did not hear him. She was too much preoccupied with her sobs. She +began searching blindly for a handkerchief, and was not aware of what +she did when she accepted Bill's, which he hastily offered. + +"Don't cry," he advised. + +He might as well have advised the sky not to rain. + +"Oh, come, Miss Norcross; please don't cry." + +"I--I _will_ cry!" + +"Well, then, don't resign," he said. + +"I _will_ resign!" + +"Let's be reasonable. Don't let's lose our tempers." + +Mary swallowed a sob and shouted into the handkerchief: + +"I resign! _I resign!_ I RESIGN!" + +Bill gritted his teeth and planted himself threateningly in front of +her. + +"I won't have it! Understand me? I won't let you resign. I refuse to +accept your resignation." + +"You c-can't." + +"Well, I do." + +"I--I w-won't endure it! I've already resigned. I'm through. I'm----" + +Right there she had a fresh paroxysm. Bill knew that he must be firm, at +all costs. If only on account of Aunt Caroline she couldn't be allowed +to resign. And then there was his own account to be considered. Any girl +with such nice freckles---- He was in a state of inward panic. + +"See here; I'll try to do better," he promised. "I'm sorry. I didn't +mean to hurt your feelings." + +"It's too--too l-late now," sobbed Mary. + +"No, it isn't. We'll start all over again. Come, now." + +She shook her head miserably. + +"Pup-pup-please!" she wailed. "I--I want to resign." + +Bill watched her as she curled up in the chair, tucked her feet under +her party dress and hunted for a dry spot on the handkerchief. + +"I wonder if it would be all right for me to cuddle her," he mused. "The +poor kid needs it; maybe she expects it. Well, such being the case----" + + * * * * * + +A knock, a door opening, and Pete Stearns. He sensed the situation at a +glance and winked at Bill. + +"I just wished to report, sir, that I escorted Miss Wayne to her home +and left her feeling somewhat better." + +Mary hastily dabbed her eyes and looked up. + +"She's all right? You're sure?" + +"Miss Wayne is quite all right, ma'am." He accented the name, watching +Mary as he spoke. + +"Thank you very much, Peter," she said. + +"Once she got out into the air, ma'am----" + +Bill interrupted him with a peremptory gesture. Pete winked again and +backed out. + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later Mary Wayne was more concerned about the probability +that her nose was red than she was about her status as Bill Marshall's +secretary. Bill was smoking a cigarette and looking thoughtful. He did +not know whether it would have been all right to cuddle her or not. The +inopportuneness of Pete Stearns had left the question open. + +"I think I'll go to bed," said Mary. + +Bill went to the door and paused with his hand on the knob. + +"That resignation doesn't go, you know," he said. + +"Good night," answered Mary. + +"Do you withdraw it?" + +"I--I'll think about it. Will you open the door, please?" + +He opened it a little way. + +"I've got to know definitely," he said, with great firmness. + +"Well, perhaps--if you really want----" + +"Atta boy," said Bill, with a genial patting of her shoulder. "I mean, +atta girl. But listen: if you ever pull a resignation on me again +I'll----" + +Mary looked up, a question in her eyes. Would he really accept +it--really? + +"Why, I'll spank you--you freckle-faced little devil." + +Mary yanked the door full wide and ran down the hall. Bill watched +hopefully, but she never looked back. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +REFERENCES + + +To the horror of Bill Marshall, the undisguised wonder of Pete Stearns +and unexpected joy of Mary Wayne, Aunt Caroline announced herself as +much pleased with the party. There were a few things she did not +understand, others that she did not know--such as the manner of Signor +Valentino's leave-taking--and, therefore, between unsophistication and +ignorance, she thoroughly enjoyed matters in retrospect. + +Upon Mary she heaped praise, upon Bill gratitude, while to Peter she +confided the impression that the bishop was well disposed toward him and +would doubtless supply him with any theological hints that he might find +necessary in the pursuit of his life-work. + +As for Bill and Mary, they were on terms again. Mary had not forgotten +what he called her as she fled to her room; it was the second time he +had alluded to her freckles, which hitherto she had been wont to regard +as a liability. Nor had she forgotten the storm and the tears. It was +all very unsecretarial, she realized, and it might easily have been +embarrassing if Bill had not displayed a tact and delicacy that she +never expected of him. He made neither hint nor allusion to the matter; +he behaved as if he had forgotten it. He had not, of course, and Mary +knew he had not; and Bill himself knew that it was still vivid in Mary's +mind. It was a shunned topic, and underneath this tacit ladies' and +gentlemen's agreement to shun it, it survived as an invisible bond. + +In fact, a sort of three-cornered alliance had grown out of Bill's +party, so that Pete came to be included in the triangle. This was also +tacit as between Pete and Mary, although it was directly responsible for +certain covert inquiries that Pete made from time to time concerning +"Miss Wayne." His anxiety as to her health appeared to do great credit +to his goodness of heart. Between Bill and Pete there was always frank +discussion, in private, although on the subject of the social secretary +it flowed with perhaps a trifle less freedom. + +So greatly had the party furthered the innocent dreams of Aunt Caroline +that she lost no time in urging further assaults and triumphs in the new +world that had been opened to her nephew. + +"My dear," she said to Mary, "I think it would be well to give a small +dinner--very soon." + +Mary agreed that it would be very well, indeed. + +"I confess that I have certain ambitions," said Aunt Caroline. "I would +like to have William extend his circle somewhat, and among people whom +it would be a very fine thing for him to know." + +Mary carelessly approved that, too. + +"It would be wonderful, my dear, if we could have Mrs. Rokeby-Jones as a +guest." + +Mary glanced sharply at Aunt Caroline. She was suddenly trembling with a +premonition. + +"But do we know Mrs. Rokeby-Jones?" she asked. + +Aunt Caroline smiled confidently. + +"You do, my dear." + +To which, of course, Mary was forced to nod an assent. + +"I believe it would be all right for you to speak to her about it," +added Aunt Caroline. "She thinks so highly of you that I am sure she +would not consider it strange in the least. And besides, there is always +the Marshall name." + +The Marshall name was Aunt Caroline's shield and buckler at all times, +and since Bill's party she had come to regard it as a password of potent +magic. + +Mary felt suddenly weak, but she fought to avoid disclosure of the fact. +Mrs. Rokeby-Jones! What could she say? Already, in the case of Bill's +party, threads of acquaintanceship that were so tenuous as scarcely to +be threads at all had been called upon to bear the strain of +invitations, and, much to her astonishment, they had borne the strain. +Thereby emboldened, Aunt Caroline was now seeking to bridge new gulfs. +But why did she have to pick Mrs. Rokeby-Jones? Was it because---- Mary +tried to put from her mind the unworthy suspicion that Aunt Caroline was +still delving as to the facts concerning what they said about the elder +daughter. But whatever the motive, whether it be hidden or wholly on the +surface, booted little to Mary. It was an impossible proposal. + +"She will recall you, of course," Aunt Caroline was saying. "And I am +sure that she knows the Marshalls. In fact, I have an impression that at +one time William's mother----" + +"But are you sure she hasn't gone to Newport?" asked Mary, desperately. + +"I saw her name in the paper only this morning, my dear. She was +entertaining last night at the theater." + +Mary began wadding a handkerchief. + +"And perhaps she could suggest somebody else," added Aunt Caroline. "At +any rate, suppose you get in touch with her and let me know what she +says." + +Mary went up-stairs to nurse her misery. It was out of the question to +refuse, yet she dreaded to obey. She could not call upon Mrs. +Rokeby-Jones; even a blind person could tell the difference between Nell +Norcross and Mary Wayne. She could not get Nell to go, for Nell was +still overcome by her adventures at the party. She could not send a +letter, because the writing would betray her. She could telephone, +perhaps; but would Mrs. Rokeby-Jones detect a strange voice? And even if +she succeeded in imposture over the wire, how was she to approach the +matter of an invitation to the home of a stranger? + +After much anguished thought, she decided upon the telephone. + +"But even if she consents," murmured Mary, "I'll never dare meet her +face to face." + +A connection was made in disconcertingly short time and Mary, after +talking with a person who was evidently the butler, held the wire, the +receiver trembling in her fingers. And then a clear, cool voice---- + +"Well? Who is it?" + +"This--this is Miss Norcross talking," and then Mary held her breath. + +"Miss who?" + +"Norcross. Miss Norcross." + +"Do I know you? Have I met you?" said the voice on the wire. + +"This is Nell Norcross." Mary was raising her voice. + +"Yes; I hear the name. But I don't place you." + +"Miss Norcross--formerly your secretary." + +There was an instant's pause. Then the cool voice again: + +"Perhaps you have the wrong number. This is Mrs. Rokeby-Jones talking." + +"Then I have the right number," said Mary, wrinkling her forehead in +perplexity. "I used to be your secretary--Miss Norcross." + +"But I have never had a secretary by that name," said Mrs. Rokeby-Jones. + +Mary gasped. + +"But the reference you gave me! Don't you remember?" + +"I have an excellent memory," the voice said. "I have never employed any +person named Miss Norcross, I never knew anybody by that name and I +certainly never supplied a reference to any such person. You are +laboring under some mistake." + +"But--but----" + +"Good-by." + +And Mrs. Rokeby-Jones hung up. + +Mary slowly replaced the receiver and sat staring at the telephone. A +blow between the eyes could not have stunned her more effectually. Mrs. +Rokeby-Jones had repudiated her reference! + +Presently she rallied. She ran to her own room and began dressing for +the street. She felt that she must escape from the house in order to +think. At all costs she must avoid Aunt Caroline until she had been able +to untangle this dismaying snarl. A few minutes later she made certain +of that by slipping down the rear staircase and leaving the house by a +side entrance. + +Fifteen minutes later she was at Nell's boarding-house, impatiently +ringing the bell. + +Nell was propped up in a rocker, looking very wan as Mary entered, but +brightening as she recognized her visitor. Mary drew a chair and sat +opposite. + +"A most embarrassing thing has happened," she said. "I have just had +Mrs. Rokeby-Jones on the telephone." + +Nell stifled an exclamation. + +"And she doesn't remember me--or you, rather--or anybody named +Norcross!" + +"Oh, my dear!" + +"It's the truth, Nell. Oh, I never felt so queer in my life." + +Nell moistened her lips and stared with incredulous eyes. + +"What--what made you call her up?" she faltered. + +"Because I couldn't help it. I was forced to." + +And Mary explained the further ambitions of Aunt Caroline and what they +had led to. + +"Oh, it was shocking, Nell! What did she mean? How dared she do it?" + +"I--I---- Oh, Mary!" + +"But how could she?" persisted Mary. "That's what I don't understand. +Even if my voice sounded strange I don't see how she could. Why did she +deny that she ever wrote a reference?" + +Nell Norcross pressed a hand to her lips to keep them from quivering. In +her eyes there was something that suggested she had seen a ghost. Slowly +she began to rock to and fro in her chair, making a gurgling in her +throat. Then she whimpered. + +"B-because she never wrote it!" she moaned. + +"Why--Nell. Oh, Heavens!" + +Mary suddenly seemed to have become as frightened as Nell. She glanced +quickly over her shoulder, as though expecting to face an eavesdropper. +Then she sprang up, went to the door and locked it. + +"Nell Norcross, tell me what you mean!" + +"She--she didn't write it. Oh, Mary! Oh--please!" + +For Mary had taken her by the shoulders and was pushing her rigidly +against the back of the chair. + +"Who wrote it?" demanded Mary. + +"I did." + +It required several seconds for Mary to absorb this astounding +confession. Then: + +"You forged it?" + +"I--I wrote it. It isn't forgery, is it? I won't go to jail, will I? Oh, +Mary, don't let them----" + +Mary shook her somewhat roughly. + +"Tell me more about it," she commanded. "Did you lose the reference she +gave you? Or did she refuse to give you one?" + +Nell shook her head miserably. + +"It's worse than that," she sobbed. "I--I never set eyes on the woman in +my life." + +Mary collapsed into her own chair. She seemed to hear the cool, clear +voice of Mrs. Rokeby-Jones calmly denying. Now it was taking an +accusative tone. She flushed to a deep red. The memory of that telephone +conversation appalled her. + +"But the other references?" she managed to whisper. + +"All the same." + +"All! You wrote them yourself?" + +Nell answered with a feeble nod. + +"Every one of them?" + +"Every one." + +"And do you know any of the women who--whose names are signed?" + +"Two--one of them by sight." + +"Nell Norcross!" + +But Nell had reached a fine stage of tears and there was nothing to be +had out of her for several minutes. Then Mary managed to calm her. + +"Now, tell me about it," she said. "And stop crying, because it won't do +a bit of good." + +Nell swallowed a sob and mopped at her eyes. + +"I--I was in the same fix that you were," she said shakily. "Only I +guess I was that way longer. I didn't have any job, and I couldn't get +one--without references. You understand?" + +Mary nodded. Indeed she did understand. + +"I worked in a furrier's; one of the Fifth Avenue places. Stenographer, +and I helped on the books, too. And then--well, I had to leave. It +wasn't my fault; honestly, Mary. I couldn't stay there because of the +way he acted. And of course I wouldn't--I couldn't--ask him for +references." + +Nell was quieting down, and Mary nodded again, to encourage her. + +"Well you know how it is trying to get a job without any references. No +decent place will take you. I kept it up for weeks. Why, I couldn't even +get a trial. When I couldn't get references, or even refer them to the +last place, they'd look at me as if I were trying to steal a job." + +"I know," murmured Mary. "They'd look at me, too." + +"So I got desperate. You know what that is, too. I had to have a job or +starve. And I had to have references--so I wrote them!" + +"Oh, Nell!" + +Nell looked up defiantly. + +"Well, what else could I do? And I didn't harm anybody, did I? I didn't +say anything about myself that wasn't true. All I did was to use some +good names. And not one of them would ever have known if you hadn't +called that woman up on the telephone. They were all customers of the +place where I worked. I knew their names and addresses. I couldn't go +and ask them to give me references, could I? I couldn't even do that +with the one I'd spoken to. So I got some stationery and wrote myself +references--that's all." + +Mary pondered the confession. + +"If it had only been one reference," she began, "but you had five or +six." + +"I only intended to write one," declared Nell. "But what was the use of +being a piker, I thought. So--well I plunged." + +"Yes; you plunged," agreed Mary. "And now look at the fix I'm in." + +"But you've got a wonderful place!" + +Mary smiled bitterly. + +"Oh, yes; it's wonderful enough. I'm not only holding it under a false +name, but now it turns out that even the references were false. +And"--she looked sharply at Nell as something else occurred to +her--"perhaps it doesn't end even there. Tell me--is your name really +Nell Norcross?" + +"Why, Mary Wayne! Of course it is!" + +"Well, how could I be sure. I'm false; the references are false. Why +couldn't your name be false, too? That would be the finishing touch; +that would leave me--nowhere. And I'm just about there, as it is." + +"But I _am_ Nell Norcross, I tell you. I can prove that." + +"Oh, I suppose so," said Mary, wearily. "So am I Nell Norcross, +according to the references. If you've committed a crime, I suppose I +have, too. They call it compounding it, don't they? Oh, we're both in; I +dare say I'm in deeper than you, because I've been taking money for it." + +"You haven't cheated them, have you? You've worked for it." + +"Yes, I've worked. But--why, in Heaven's name, Nell, didn't you tell me +all this before I started?" + +"I was too sick." + +"You weren't too sick to give me the references and send me off to take +the job." + +"But I was too sick not to have you take it," said Nell. "One of us had +to go to work. And if I'd told you, you wouldn't have done it." + +"That's true enough," assented Mary. "I wouldn't have dared. It took all +the nerve I had, as it was. But now what am I going to do?" + +"Why, you'll go right on sticking to your job, of course." + +"And keep on being a liar, and a hypocrite, and a falsifier, and maybe +some kind of a forger---- Why, I believe I am a forger! I signed your +name to some kind of a bail bond!" + +"Oh, well; you told me the case was settled, Mary. So you don't have to +worry about that." + +"I can worry about my conscience if I like," declared Mary, resentfully. + +"Yes; but you can't eat your conscience, or buy clothes with it, or hire +a room--or anything." + +Mary stared down at the floor for a while. + +"I suppose I've got to keep on taking care of you until you're well," +she remarked. + +Nell winced. + +"I--I hate to be a charity patient," she faltered. "I'll make it all up +to you some time. But if you'll only keep on for the present----" + +Mary reached forward impulsively and took her hands. + +"I don't mean to suggest that," she said. "You're not a charity patient; +you got my job for me. Of course I'll look out for you, Nell. I'll see +it through somehow, as long as it's necessary. There; don't worry, +dear. I'm not angry. I'm just staggered." + +Nell leaned forward and kissed her. + +"You're a darling!" she said. "And just as soon as I'm strong I'll get a +job for myself." + +Mary looked at her thoughtfully. + +"Yes," she said slowly, "I suppose you might write yourself some more +references." + +"Mary Wayne!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +TO SAIL THE OCEAN BLUE + + +Mary Wayne was in weak, human fear. The confession of Nell Norcross had +not merely served to revive half-forgotten apprehensions, but had +overwhelmed her with new ones. She wanted to quit. She did not dare. For +where could she get another place, and who would take care of Nell? +Circumstances were driving her toward a life of perpetual charlatanism, +it seemed, but for the present she could not even struggle against them. + +Mary was neither a prude nor a Puritan, so it may as well be said that +what troubled her most was not the practice of deception. It was the +fear of discovery. She now lived with an explosive mine under her feet. +At any instant Aunt Caroline, for all her innocence and abiding faith, +might inadvertently make the contact. Then--catastrophe! Even that queer +valet might make a discovery; she was by no means certain that he was +without suspicion. Bill Marshall himself might blunder into a +revelation; but Mary feared him least of all. She did not regard him as +too dull to make a discovery, but she had a feeling that if he made it +he would in some manner safely remove her from the arena of disturbance +before the explosion occurred. + +All the way back to the Marshall house she was seized with fits of +trembling. The trembling angered her, but she was unable to control it. +Suppose Aunt Caroline had taken it into her head to seek a personal +talk with Mrs. Rokeby-Jones! Or, even if matters had not gone that far, +what would she say when Aunt Caroline asked for the result of Mary's +interview? + +"The city of New York is not large enough for Mrs. Rokeby-Jones and me," +declared Mary. "I feel it in my bones. One of us must go. Which?" + +She had reached a decision when the butler opened the front door and +informed her that Mr. William would like to see her. He was the very +person that Mary wanted to see. She found him in the office. + +"Say, what's this I hear about a dinner?" demanded Bill. + +"Has your aunt been speaking to you?" + +"Uh, huh! I don't want any dinner. Good Lord, they'll ask me to make a +speech!" + +Mary smiled for the first time in hours. + +"Of course," said Bill, uncomfortably, "I promised to do better and all +that sort of thing, and I don't want to break my word. But a dinner--oh, +gee!" + +"I don't favor the dinner idea myself," said Mary. + +"But it looks like Aunt Caroline was all set for it. What's the answer?" + +Mary laid her gloves on the desk and removed her hat. + +"It seems to me," she said, "that the thing to do is to go out of town +for a while." + +Bill looked at her with a hopeful expression. + +"You see, Mr. Marshall, the town season is really over. Most of the +worth-while people have left the city. It's summer. There will be +nothing of importance in society before the fall; nothing that would +interest you, at any rate. So I would advise doing exactly what the +other people are doing." + +Bill rubbed his nose thoughtfully. + +"Trouble is, we haven't got a country house," he said. "We don't own a +villa, or a camp or any of that fashionable stuff." + +"I understand," said Mary. "But how about a yacht?" + +"Don't even own a skiff." + +"But we could hire one, couldn't we?" + +Mary had unconsciously adopted the "we." + +Bill regarded her with sudden interest. He stopped rubbing his nose, +which was always one of his signs of indecision. + +"Say, where did you get that idea?" he demanded. + +"Why, it's a perfectly obvious one to arrive at, considering the season +of the year." + +"Have you spoken to my aunt about it?" + +"Not yet. I wanted to consult you first, of course." + +Bill liked that. It was another way of saying that she was still _his_ +secretary. + +"You've got a whole beanful of ideas, haven't you?" he exclaimed, in +admiration. "Well, I'm for this one, strong!" + +Mary breathed a little more deeply. It seemed as if she had already +removed herself a step further from Mrs. Rokeby-Jones and other perils +of the city. + +"I'm glad you like it," she said. + +"Like it! Why, man alive--I mean little girl--well, anyhow, it's just +the stunt we're going to pull off." + +"It's not really a stunt," Mary reminded him. "It's not original at all. +We do it simply because it is the right thing to do. Everybody of any +account has a yacht, and now is the time for yachting." + +"Now, don't you go crabbing your own stuff," said Bill. "This thing is a +great invention, Secretary Norcross, and you get all the credit. I +wouldn't have thought of it in a billion years. Now, what's your idea +about this yacht? Do we want a little one or a whale? Where do we go? +When? And who's going along?" + +"Well, I don't know much about yachts," confessed Mary. "But it seems to +me that a medium-sized one would do. We're not going across the ocean, +you know." + +"We might," declared Bill, hopefully--"we might start that trip around +the world. I'm supposed to be on my way to Australia, you know, studying +crustaceans." + +Mary laughed. + +"Do we cart a gang along?" + +Mary had a vision of a tin ear. She shook her head. + +"I see no occasion for a large party, Mr. Marshall. We might ask one or +two besides the family; the bishop, for instance." + +"Now you're joshing me. Into what part of the world do we sail this +yacht, if you don't happen to be under sealed orders." + +He was traveling somewhat rapidly, Mary thought; and she was right. Bill +was already cleaving the high seas, perched on his own quarter-deck and +inhaling stupendous quantities of salty air. + +"I think we'd better obtain your aunt's approval before we plot out a +cruise," she advised. "Also, there's the problem of getting a yacht." + +"We'll get one if we steal it," Bill assured her. "I'll talk to Pete +about it. He's amphibious. He's a sort of nautical valet. He knows all +about yachts." + +"I dare say. He seems to have a wide range of information. Suppose you +consult him, while I speak to your aunt." + +A frown clouded Bill's face. + +"Do you suppose Aunt Caroline will want to go?" he asked. + +"Want to? Why, she must." + +"I don't see why. I don't believe she'd enjoy it a bit. We can have a +barrel of fun if Aunt Caroline doesn't go. Let's leave her home." + +Mary shook her head decisively. + +"That's out of the question. Of course she'll go. + +"But, listen; I don't need any chaperon." + +"Well, perhaps I do," said Mary. + +"Oh!" Bill was still scowling. "Why couldn't we let Pete be the +chaperon?" + +Mary squashed that suggestion with a glance. + +"Then don't blame me if she turns out to be a bum sailor," he warned. + +"I think I'll speak to her now," said Mary. + +Aunt Caroline was frankly surprised. It had never occurred to her that +there were times when society went to sea. Yet, to Mary's great relief, +she did not prove to be an antagonist. She merely wanted to be shown +that this cruise would actually be in furtherance of Bill's career. + +"Of course it will," urged Mary. "It's the very thing. We'll take the +regular summer society cruise." + +"And what is that, my dear?" + +Mary bit her lip. She did not have the least idea. + +"Oh, I suppose we'll stop at Newport, Narragansett, Bar Harbor, and such +places," she said, dismissing the details with a wave of her hand. +"We'll make all the regular society ports--that is, of course, if you +approve the idea, Miss Marshall." + +Aunt Caroline smiled. + +"Certainly I approve it, my dear. Although I admit it perplexes me. +What sort of yachting flannels does an old lady wear?" + +"Oh, they dress exactly like the young ones," said Mary, hastily. + +"Which reminds me that we'll both need gowns. So, please order whatever +you want." + +"You're awfully generous with me," and Mary laid an impulsive hand on +Aunt Caroline's. She felt very small and mean and unworthy. + +"I want you to be a credit to the family, my dear. So far, you're doing +beautifully! Have you spoken to William about buying the yacht?" + +"Oh, we don't have to buy one! We just hire one--charter it, I think +they say." + +"It sounds like hiring clothes," said Aunt Caroline. "Still, I leave it +all to you and William. But if it's necessary, buy one. And please get +it as large as possible. We wouldn't want to be seasick, you know." + +"We'll only sail where it's nice and calm," Mary assured her. + +"And where there are the proper sort of people. Very well, my dear. And, +oh, I've just remembered: have you done anything yet about Mrs. +Rokeby-Jones?" + +That lady had passed completely out of Mary's head. + +"Why--er--you see, this other matter came up, Miss Marshall, so I +haven't done anything about her as yet." + +"Never mind the dinner, then," said Aunt Caroline. + +"I'm afraid we wouldn't have time for it," agreed Mary. + +"Probably not, my dear. We'll do better. We'll invite her to sail with +us on our yacht." + +Mary groped her way out of the room. + +The business of fleeing the city went surprisingly well, notwithstanding +Aunt Caroline's obsession on the subject of Mrs. Rokeby-Jones. Bill +consulted Pete Stearns, who numbered among his friends a marine +architect. The marine architect believed that he knew the very boat they +needed. She was not a steam-yacht; most of the steam-yachts, he pointed +out, were too large for a small party and a lot of them were obsolete. +What they wanted was a big cruiser with Diesel engines, that ran +smoothly, noiselessly and never smokily. + +So through the offices of the marine architect, who made a nice +commission, of which he said nothing at all, Bill Marshall became +charterer of the yacht _Sunshine_, an able yet luxurious craft, +measuring some one hundred and twenty feet on the water-line, capable of +all the speed that was required in the seven seas of society and +sufficiently commodious in saloon and stateroom accommodations. + +Mary Wayne was delighted. Any craft that would sail her away from New +York City would have been a marine palace, in her eyes. She would have +embarked on a railroad car-float, if necessary. There was a vast amount +of shopping to be done, which also pleased Mary. Aunt Caroline insisted +upon being absurdly liberal; she was in constant apprehension that the +ladies of the party would not be properly arrayed for a nautical +campaign. So Mary presently found herself the possessor of more summer +gowns than she had ever dreamed of. + +Even when it came to the business of seeing that Bill Marshall was +adequately tailored for the sea Aunt Caroline proved prolific in ideas. +Somehow, she acquired the notion that Bill would need a uniform; she +pictured him standing on the bridge, with a spy-glass under his arm, or +perhaps half-way up the shrouds, gazing out upon the far horizon; +although there were no shrouds on the _Sunshine_, inasmuch as there were +no masts. But Aunt Caroline did not know that. To her, Bill would not +merely be the proprietor and chief passenger of this argosy, but the +captain, as well. + +Mary saved Bill from the uniform. She did it tactfully but firmly, after +explaining to Aunt Caroline that only the hired persons on board would +wear uniforms. Nevertheless, Aunt Caroline insisted on such a plethoric +wardrobe for her nephew that for a time she even considered the +advisability of an assistant valet. Pete fell in with that idea +instantly, but again there was a veto from Mary. One valet was trouble +enough, as she well knew. + +When it came to the matter of Mrs. Rokeby-Jones, however, Mary was hard +put for a suitable defense. Aunt Caroline mentioned the lady several +times; she hoped that the negotiations were progressing favorably; in +fact, she at last reached the point where she decided upon two +additional evening gowns for herself, because she was certain that Mrs. +Rokeby-Jones would come arrayed like the Queen of Sheba. Poor Aunt +Caroline did not know that the Queen of Sheba, in these times, would +look like a shoddy piker beside even the humblest manicure in New York. + +Mary had consulted Bill about Mrs. Rokeby-Jones. She could not explain +as fully as she would have liked just why it was impossible for her to +transmit Aunt Caroline's invitation; but she did not need to. Bill was +flatly against his aunt's scheme. He declared that he would back Mary to +the uttermost limit of opposition. + +"But opposition is exactly what we must avoid," said Mary. "We mustn't +antagonize--and yet we must stop it. Oh, dear! It seems a shame for me +to be plotting this way against your aunt; she's been so wonderful to +me. But there's no way to make her see that a perfect stranger is hardly +likely to accept an invitation to a yachting party. Of course, your aunt +is relying on the Marshall name." Bill nodded. + +"And names don't get you anywhere; except, perhaps, in society. I knew a +youngster who called himself Young John L. He kept at it for quite a +while, but the only thing he was ever any good at was lying on his back +in the middle of the ring and listening to a man count ten. That's all +his name ever got him." + +"But to get back to Mrs. Rokeby-Jones," said Mary, with a slight frown. +"We've got to appear to want her, but we mustn't have her." + +"We won't; don't you worry. We'll count her out or claim a foul. We'll +leave her on the string-piece, if it comes to the worst." + +"It isn't quite so simple as that, Mr. Marshall. Do you know what your +aunt did to-day? She wrote her a note--personally." + +"I know it," said Bill. + +"She told you?" + +"No; but here's the note." + +He delved into a pocket and produced an envelope. Mary's eyes became +round. + +"Why, how in the world----" + +"You see, the letters were given to Pete, to put stamps on and mail. +And--well, he thought I might be interested in this one." + +"But--that's a crime, isn't it?" + +"Why do you have such unpleasant thoughts, Secretary Norcross? Pete says +it's no crime at all; not unless it's been dropped in a letter-box. But +if you feel finicky about it, why here's the letter. Mail it." + +Mary shook her head. + +"I'd be afraid to touch it." + +"Thought so," said Bill, as he returned the letter to his pocket. "I'll +hold it for a while." + +"If the boat was only sailing now!" exclaimed Mary. + +"That's a good suggestion. I'll hold it till we sail." + +"Why, I never suggested anything of the kind, Mr. Marshall." + +She made a very fair show of indignation, but Bill simply winked at her. +Mary turned away for fear of betraying herself. Nevertheless, she knew +that it was all very discreditable and she was not in the least proud of +herself. It was a comfort, though, to have somebody else sharing the +guilt. + +The day came for the sailing of Aunt Caroline's armada. The _Sunshine_ +lay at anchor in the Hudson. From early morning a launch had been making +steady trips from wharf to yacht, carrying trunks, boxes, grips, +hampers, and packages. A superficial observer would have been justified +in assuming that the _Sunshine_ was documented for the Philippines, or +some equally distant haven. All of Aunt Caroline's new gowns, all of +Mary's, all of Bill's wardrobe, all of Pete's, and many other things +that might prove of service in an emergency went aboard the _Sunshine_. + +At the last moment there was great difficulty in persuading Aunt +Caroline to leave the house. There had been no word from Mrs. +Rokeby-Jones, and the good lady who was determined to be her hostess +insisted that she would not depart without her. Bill fumed; Mary twisted +her handkerchief. Aunt Caroline was displaying stubborn symptoms. + +"Madam, I telephoned myself, only half an hour ago," said Pete. "She was +not at home." + +"She's probably on her way to the yacht," said Bill, with a glance at +Mary. + +"We'll wait a while and telephone again," announced Aunt Caroline. + +"But if she's on her way," said Mary, "wouldn't it be better for you to +be there to receive her?" + +Aunt Caroline hesitated. It was Pete who saved the day. + +"If I may make bold to suggest, Miss Marshall, you could go to the yacht +at once. If Mrs. Rokeby-Jones has not arrived you could then telephone +from the boat." + +Mary turned away and stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth. Bill went +out into the hall to see if the taxis had arrived. + +"Peter," said Aunt Caroline, "that's a most sensible suggestion. I never +thought of the telephone on board." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THREE ERRANDS ASHORE + + +If Aunt Caroline had been bred to the sea, and familiar with its customs +that have practically crystallized into an unwritten law, she would have +written in her log: + + Aboard the yacht _Sunshine_--Latitude, 40° 43' North; Longitude, + 74° 0' West. Weather, clear; wind, SSW., moderate; sea, smooth. + Barometer, 29.6. + +But not being a seafaring lady, she phrased it in this way in the course +of a remark to her nephew: + +"William, isn't it lovely to be sitting here aboard our own yacht in the +Hudson, and isn't the weather superb?" + +The _Sunshine_ still lay at her anchorage, with every prospect +auspicious, except for the fact that nothing had been heard from Mrs. +Rokeby-Jones. The sun had set somewhere in New Jersey and the lights of +New York were shining in its stead. There was a soft coolness in the +air, so that Aunt Caroline found comfort in a light wrap. + +Bill had decided that they would not sail until later in the evening. +This was not because of Aunt Caroline's anxiety concerning the missing +guest, but for the reason that he had an errand ashore which he had been +unable to discharge during the busy hours of the day. It was an errand +he could trust to nobody, not even to Pete Stearns. In fact, he did not +consider it wisdom to take Pete into his confidence. + +Aunt Caroline had, indeed, discovered a telephone aboard the _Sunshine_. +It was in the owner's stateroom, which had been set apart for her +because it was the most commodious of all the sleeping apartments. Three +times she had talked into this telephone, on each occasion giving the +correct number of the Rokeby-Jones house, of which she had made a +memorandum before leaving shore. But each time she was answered by the +voice of a man, always the same voice. The second time he laughed and +the third time he hung up with a bang! So Aunt Caroline, after vainly +trying to lodge a complaint with "Information," made a personal +investigation and discovered that the other end of the telephone system +was in the cabin of the sailing-master. + +She made an instant complaint to Bill, and Bill referred her to Pete. +The latter explained it very easily. + +"You see, madam, through a mistake the telephone company was notified +that we were sailing several hours ago, so they sent a man out in a boat +to disconnect the shore wire. I'm very sorry, madam." + +Aunt Caroline accepted the explanation, as she had come to accept +anything from Pete Stearns, although it did nothing to allay her anxiety +as to Mrs. Rokeby-Jones. + +Dinner had been over for more than an hour and darkness had settled upon +the river when Bill Marshall announced that he was going ashore. He said +that it was expressly for the purpose of pursuing Aunt Caroline's +thwarted telephone inquiry and that he would not come back until he had +definite news. His aunt thanked him for his thoughtfulness, settled +herself for a nap in a deck-chair and Bill ordered the launch. + +He was about to embark upon his errand when it occurred to him that +perhaps his secretary would also like to go ashore. Bill had it in the +back of his head that there might be time to pay a short visit to a +roof-garden or seek some sequestered place for a chat. He had been +trying for some time to have a confidential chat with Mary Wayne, but +she had an annoying way of discovering other and prior engagements. + +"You mean the young lady, sir?" said the second officer. "She went +ashore an hour ago, sir. I sent her across in the launch." + +Bill became thoughtful. Why hadn't she mentioned the matter to him? And +who was the boss of this yacht, anyhow? Could people order up the +launch just as if they owned it? + +He made a search for Pete Stearns and could not find him. Again he spoke +to the second officer. + +"Oh, the young man, sir? Why, he went ashore at the same time. I believe +I heard him say that he had a few purchases to make." + +Bill gritted his teeth. Here was a piece of presumption that no owner +could tolerate. They had gone away together, of course; they had been +very careful not to say a word to him. What for? What sort of an affair +was in progress between his valet and his secretary? The more he thought +about it the higher rose his temper. + +"I'm going ashore myself," he said shortly. "Please hurry the launch." + +Ten minutes later he was hunting for a taxi along the Manhattan +waterfront, deeply disturbed in mind and with a fixed resolution to +demand explanations. + +But the suspicions of Bill Marshall did injustice at least to one of the +missing persons. Mary Wayne had gone ashore on a purely private +mission, and she was not only surprised, but annoyed when her employer's +valet also stepped into the launch. + +"If you don't mind, miss," said Pete, apologetically, as the launch was +headed for the wharf, "I have some purchases to make for Mr. William." + +Mary answered, of course, that she did not mind, and after that she kept +her thoughts to herself. Where the wharf entrance opened on Twelfth +Avenue, Pete lifted his hat respectfully, bid her good evening, and went +off in an opposite direction. + +But he did not go far; merely far enough to conceal himself in a shadow +from which he could watch without fear of discovery. Mary was without +suspicion; she walked briskly eastward, glad to be so easily rid of her +fellow passenger. When he had permitted her to assume a safe lead, Pete +stepped out of his shadow and followed. + +It was fortunate that there were two taxis at the stand which Mary +discovered after a journey of several blocks through lonely streets; +that is, Pete considered it was fortunate. He took the second one, +giving the driver the order and promise of reward that are usual in such +affairs. This nocturnal excursion on the part of Mary Wayne had piqued +his curiosity. He knew that she had not spoken to Bill Marshall about +it; he doubted if she had said anything to Aunt Caroline. The +clandestine character of Mary's shore visit impressed him as warranting +complete investigation. + +The two taxis had not been in motion for many minutes when Pete became +convinced that he could name Mary's destination almost beyond a +question. They were headed down-town, with occasional jogs toward the +East Side. So certain was Pete of his conclusion and so anxious was he, +purely for reasons of self-gratification, to prove the accuracy of his +powers of deduction, that he halted his taxi, paid off the driver and +set off at a leisurely walk, quite content in mind as he watched the +vehicle that contained Mary Wayne disappear from view. + +Twenty minutes later Pete found himself vindicated. In front of the +boarding-house where Nell Norcross roomed stood a taxi. Sitting on the +top step of the porch were two figures. As he strolled slowly by on the +opposite side of the street he had no difficulty in recognizing Mary +Wayne's smart little yachting suit of white linen. Of course, there was +no doubt as to the identity of the second person, even though the street +lights were dim and there was no lamp-post within a hundred feet of the +boarding-house. Pete walked as far as the corner and posted himself. + +The conversation between Mary and Nell proceeded in low tones. + +"We shall be in Larchmont to-morrow," Mary was saying. "I'll try to send +you a note from there. After that I'll keep you informed as well as I +can concerning the rest of the trip, so you can reach me, if it's +necessary. We are not traveling on any fixed time-table." + +"I'll feel dreadfully lonely, Mary." + +"I'd have brought you if I could, Nell; but there wasn't any legitimate +excuse. And besides, I don't think you're strong enough to attempt it." + +"If there was only somebody staying behind that I knew," Nell sighed. +"I'll be so helpless." + +"Nonsense. Besides, who would stay behind?" + +Nell did not answer, but if Pete Stearns could have read a fleeting +thought from his point of observation on the street corner his +waistcoat buttons would doubtless have gone flying. Mary Wayne, however, +read the thought. + +"You don't mean that valet who brought you home from the party?" she +demanded suddenly. + +"Oh, I didn't mean anybody particularly," answered Nell, guiltily. "But +of course even he would be better than nobody." + +"Nell Norcross, don't let that young man get into your head. There's +something mysterious about him. He may be only a valet, but I'm not +certain. I'm suspicious of him. He has a habit of forgetting himself." + +"I know," assented Nell, nodding. + +"Oh, you do, do you? I might have guessed it. Take my advice and give +him a wide berth." + +Nell regarded her friend with a look of speculative anxiety. + +"Of course, Mary, I don't want to interfere with you in any way. +But----" + +"Interfere with me?" exclaimed Mary sharply. "Do you think I am +interested in valets?" + +"But you thought he might be something else. At least, you hinted it. +He's a divinity student, isn't he?" + +"Divinity!" Mary summoned all her scorn in that word. "Oh, very likely. +But what sort of a divinity is he studying? Perhaps you're a candidate +for the place." + +"Mary Wayne, you're mean! I think that's a nasty remark." + +"Oh, well; I didn't mean it. But you'd better take my advice, just the +same. I've seen much more of him than you have." + +Nell sighed again. + +"Now, my dear, I must be going back. They'll be sending out a general +alarm for me, I suppose. I didn't ask anybody's permission to come, you +see." + +"There isn't much doubt Mr. Marshall will be alarmed," remarked Nell, +who was not above seeking a legitimate revenge. + +"You're in a rather silly mood this evening," said Mary. "Well, good-by. +I'll send you some more money as soon as I'm paid again." + +Nell looked gratefully at a small roll of bills that lay in her hand. + +"You're awfully good to me," she murmured. "Good-by. And if you see----" + +But Mary ran down the steps, popped into the taxi and was driven off. + +Pete Stearns aroused himself, crossed the street, and walked briskly in +the direction of the boarding-house. He arrived in time to intercept +Nell, who had risen to go in. She sat down again in sheer surprise, and +Pete seated himself without invitation on the step below. + +"It's a fine night, isn't it?" he said. "Now what's your real name?" + +Nell gasped and could only stare. + +"Is it Wayne?" he demanded. + +"Of--of course, it is!" + +"I just wanted to see if I'd forgotten. Sometimes my memory walks out on +me. Amnesia, you know. It's lucky I never suffered from aphasia. A +bishop with aphasia wouldn't be able to hold his job. Let's talk about +the bishops." + +And he did, for ten solid minutes, until Nell began seriously to wonder +if he was in his right mind. Suddenly he dropped the subject. + +"You said your name was Wayne, didn't you?" + +"Why in the world do you keep asking that?" she parried. + +"It's the amnesia. Excuse it, please. Now let's talk about ourselves." + +Eventually he said good night; he would be delaying the yacht, he +explained. But he promised to write, which was something that had not +even been hinted at during the conversation. He also shook hands with +her, begged her to have faith in him, urged her to believe nothing she +might hear, reaffirmed his purpose to become a bishop and perhaps even +an archbishop, told her that she inspired him to great things, as +witness--a kiss that landed on the end of her nose. Then he ran. + +Nell Norcross was still sitting on the top step half an hour later, +trying to muster sufficient confidence for the climb up-stairs. + +At about the same time Bill Marshall was taking leave of a friend in the +back room of a hostelry that had descended to the evil fortunes of +selling near-beer. + +"I'm sorry I won't be able to be there, Kid," he said, "but go to it and +don't worry about any cops butting in to bust up the game." + +"I'll run it strictly Q. T., Bill. Doncha worry about nothin'." + +"I won't. But I owe you that much for the way they chucked you out of +the house the other night." + +"'Sall right, 'sall right," said Kid Whaley with a generous wave of his +hand. "They didn't hurt me none." + +Bill handed him something, and the Kid pocketed it with a wink. + +"I'd like to take you with me, Kid; but you understand." + +"Aw, sure. Sure--I'm wise. I ain't strong for yachtin', anyhow. That's +why I blew me roll in a buzz-wagon. Well, s'long, Bill. This here little +scrap's goin' t' be a bird. I'll tell y' all about it." + +When Mary Wayne arrived at the wharf there was no sign of the launch. +She remembered that she had said nothing about the time of her return. +Out in the river she could see the riding lights of the _Sunshine_ and +the glow from the saloon windows. But she had not the least idea of how +to make a signal, nor any notion that they would understand a signal. +The wharf was lonely. It seemed to her, as she seated herself on the +string-piece, that she was as remote from civilization as though she +were sitting at the north pole, although she knew there were seven or +eight million people within a radius of a few miles. There was nothing +to do but wait, even if it was a creepy place for waiting. + +She had been sitting there for what seemed like half the night when a +sound of footsteps startled her. Out of the murk a figure was +approaching. An instant later, to her relief, she perceived it to be the +valet. + +He bowed in his mock deferential way and seated himself beside her. + +"No launch?" he inquired. + +"I forgot to speak to them." + +"So did I. Well, the yacht's there, anyhow, miss. They won't leave +without us. Is Miss Wayne better?" + +Mary experienced a shock. She leaned closer toward him and stared +through the gloom. + +"You followed me!" she exclaimed. + +"I'd hardly say that, miss. You see, I was quite certain where you were +going." + +She had an impulse to sweep him off into the water. + +"I shall speak to Mr. Marshall about this," she said hotly. "I do not +propose to be spied upon by a servant." + +Pete made a gesture of deprecation. + +"Why be nasty, miss? Let's talk about something pleasanter. You know, if +we both started telling all we knew there might be a great deal of +embarrassment." + +"Just what do you mean by that?" she demanded. + +"I leave it to your imagination," he said cryptically. + +"I can tell things myself," she said savagely. + +"Exactly, miss. So why shouldn't we be friends? Why can't we establish a +real democracy? I won't always be a valet; some day I'll be a bishop." + +"I believe you're nothing but a fraud!" + +"Well, now," observed Pete in a mild tone, "I might remark, on the other +hand--but I think the master is coming." + +Mary jumped to her feet with a sense of confusion. There was no doubt +that the large figure emerging out of the darkness was that of Bill +Marshall. How was she to explain the valet? + +"Oh, hello!" said Bill as he identified her. "Waiting here all alone, +eh? Well, that's a darn shame. Hasn't the launch--oh!" He discovered the +presence of Pete Stearns. "Didn't know you had company," he added, his +tone altering. "Beg your pardon." + +"I--I haven't," said Mary, defiantly. + +"I'll see if there's any sign of the launch." Bill walked to the end of +the wharf, where he stood staring at the river, raging with and almost +bursting with questions that he scorned to ask. + +"Why didn't you explain to him?" snapped Mary, whirling upon Pete. + +"I pass the question back to you, miss." And Pete lighted a cigarette, +the glow of the match illuminating for an instant a pair of eyes that +were regarding her with unveiled amusement. + +When the launch came, after an uncomfortably long interval, Bill helped +her into it, with cold courtesy. The valet scrambled aboard and took +himself off to the bow. All the way to the _Sunshine_ the three sat in +silence--Bill smoldering with anger and curiosity, Mary humiliated and +resentful, Pete content because they were as they were. + +The social secretary hastened to her stateroom as soon as she stepped +aboard; she did not pause to speak to Aunt Caroline, who was dozing in +her chair. Pete disappeared with like alacrity. It remained for Bill to +arouse his aunt and suggest that it was time for her to retire. + +"But Mrs. Rokeby-Jones?" asked Aunt Caroline. + +"Had her on the wire; she can't come," said Bill. "Says she wrote a +note, but it must have gone astray. Very sorry and all that sort of +thing." + +Aunt Caroline sighed. + +"At any rate, I have done my duty, William. When do we sail?" + +"Soon." + +Bill went forward to give an order to the sailing-master. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE WAY OF A MAID + + +Larchmont Harbor! + +It was fair even to the eyes of Bill Marshall, as he stood under the +after awning of the _Sunshine_, staring out over the shining water, as +yet untouched by so much as a breath of breeze. He was in no pleasant +mood this morning, but he could not deny the serene, luxurious charm of +the harbor. At another time it might have awakened the spirit of the +muse within him; Pete always insisted that far under the surface Bill +was a poet. But now its influence was not quite so potent as that; it +merely laid a restraining spell upon him, soothing him, mollifying him, +yet not lifting him to the heights. + +There were many yachts at anchor, with club ensigns and owners' flags +drooping limp in the sluggish air. Bill watched them for signs of life, +but it was still an early hour for Larchmont. Occasionally he saw a hand +scrubbing a deck or polishing a brass, but he discovered no person who +resembled an owner or a guest. A warm mist had thinned sufficiently to +show the rocky shore, and beyond it, partly sequestered among the trees, +the summer homes and cottages of persons who still slept in innocence of +the designs of Aunt Caroline. The harbor was not even half awake; it was +yet heavy with the unspent drowsiness of a summer night. + +Bill was on deck early because he had slept badly. The affair of Mary +Wayne and Pete Stearns, as he interpreted it, rankled. The yacht had +been clear of Hell Gate before he went to his stateroom, and even then +it was a long time before he closed his eyes. The fact that Bill was +jealous he did not himself attempt to blink; he admitted it. + +"He's not a valet, of course," Bill was muttering, as he continued to +watch the harbor. "But she doesn't know that. Why does she have to pick +a valet? And if she wanted to go ashore with him, why didn't she say so, +instead of sneaking off? I wish I'd stayed home. Damned if I'll go into +society, either by way of the steamboat route or any other way." + +A steward brought breakfast and served it under the awning. Bill greeted +it with his usual sound appetite; nothing ever seriously interfered with +his breakfast. + +"Good morning!" + +He looked up from the omelette at Mary Wayne, who stood there all in +white, fresh, clear-eyed, a part of the morning itself. + +Bill arose and drew another chair to the table; he could do no less. + +"Good morning," he said. + +"Doesn't it make you just want to shout?" she exclaimed. "I was watching +it from my stateroom window while I dressed. It's Larchmont, isn't it? I +love it already." + +Bill pushed the coffee pot toward her and rang for the steward. + +"Yes; it's Larchmont," he said. + +"Aren't you just glad all over that we came?" + +"Not particularly." + +Mary studied him more carefully. + +"Oh," she said. + +Bill continued to eat in silence. The steward brought another omelette +and she helped herself sparingly. + +"How long shall we stay here, do you think?" she ventured. + +"What have I got to say about it?" + +"I should think you'd have quite a lot to say. I would if I was in +command of a yacht." + +"Suppose you weren't sure who was in command?" + +"I'd make sure," she answered promptly. + +Bill glowered sullenly. The spell of the morning was loosening its grip. + +"Well, aboard this yacht it appears that everybody does as he pleases," +said Bill, helping himself to more coffee and ignoring her proffered +assistance. + +His mood pleased her. She would not, of course, show him that it did; +but her innermost self accepted it as a tribute, no matter how +ungraciously the tribute might be disguised. + +"That's something new, isn't it?" she inquired. "At sea I always thought +the captain was a czar. Have we a soviet, or something like that?" + +"I'm not sure we have even that much. More coffee?" + +"No, thank you." + +He appeared determined to relapse into a silence, but Mary would not +have it so. She had not been wholly tranquil when she came on deck; she +was somewhat uncertain about the night before. But now everything suited +her very well. + +"Do you go ashore here?" she asked. + +"Don't know." + +"Will any of us be permitted to go ashore?" + +"Why ask me?" + +"Because you don't seem to want us to use the launch." + +Bill gave her a measuring glance. + +"Did I say so?" + +"Not exactly; that is, not in so many words. But last night----" + +"We won't talk about last night, if you don't mind." + +She was becoming better pleased every minute. When she had retired the +night before she made up her mind that it would be necessary to make a +clear explanation concerning Peter, the valet. Now she knew that she +would never explain. + +"Well, if we're not permitted to go ashore here, do you think we can get +permission at Newport?" she asked. + +"Confound it! I didn't say you couldn't go ashore. You can go ashore any +time you want. You can----" + +Bill excused himself abruptly and walked forward. Mary beamed at his +retreating back and poured another cup of coffee. + +"He was going to say I could go to hell," she murmured. "Oh, lovely!" + +Aunt Caroline had breakfast served in her stateroom and then sent for +Mary. After a satisfactory conference, she dismissed Mary and sent for +Bill. + +"How soon are you going ashore, William?" she asked. + +"I didn't know I was going." + +"Why, of course. You have friends here. You can't leave Larchmont +without calling. That's what we came for." + +"Who are the friends, I'd like to know." + +"Well, in the first place, I believe Bishop Wrangell is staying +here--with the Williamsons. It will give you an opportunity to meet +them; they're very desirable. And then the Kingsleys have a cottage +here, or did, at any rate. You remember the little Kingsley girl at the +party--the one in blue?" + +Bill remembered. Only she was not the Kingsley girl; she was Arnold +Gibbs's little girl. + +"You must look them up, too. They'll probably have some people visiting +them, too; the Kingsleys always did entertain, and they have a very good +position. And Miss Norcross thinks it just possible that the Humes have +opened their house. You've never met Mrs. Hume, but if you just +mentioned that you're a Marshall, she'll be delighted to see you. She +knew your mother." + +Bill groaned. + +"Talk to Miss Norcross about it," added Aunt Caroline. "She'll know +exactly what you should do." + +"Good Lord, Aunt Caroline! Don't you think I know how to behave without +getting tips from Miss Norcross? You'll be wanting me to consult Peter +next." + +"And a very good idea it would be, William. I suggest it. And now see if +you can find last night's _Evening Post_; I haven't seen it yet. After +that I think you'd better start." + +Bill walked out like a surly child. He could not find the _Evening +Post_, but he picked up a copy of _Devilish Stories_, gave it to a maid +and told her Aunt Caroline wanted it. Then he went on deck and ordered +the launch. + +He had no intention of calling on anybody. He might ring up Kid Whaley +on the 'phone and see if everything was all set for that little affair. +But what he wanted principally was a change of environment. + +Mary saw him sulking at the rail as he waited for the launch to be +brought around to the gangway. She smiled, bit her lip and approached. + +"You're going ashore?" + +"Uhuh." + +"You have cards with you, I suppose? Your aunt's also?" + +Bill faced her savagely. + +"Stacks of cards," he barked. "Mine and my aunt's and my valet's and my +secretary's and the steward's and everybody else's. And my shoes are +clean and I've washed behind my ears and brushed my hair in the back. +Anything else?" + +"I don't think of a thing, unless you've forgotten a handkerchief," she +said, sweetly. + +The launch arrived and Bill boarded it. At the final moment it occurred +to him that he had, perhaps, been ungracious. + +"Want to come along?" he asked, looking up at the rail where Mary stood. +He really hoped she would say yes. + +Mary shook her head and smiled like the morning. + +"I'm afraid I've too many things to do," she answered. "But thank you, +just the same. You won't forget to call on Mrs. Hume, if she's here." + +"I won't forget to take you by the neck and pitch you overboard," was +what Bill had in his mind, but he did not give utterance to it. He +merely scowled and turned his back. + +Mary watched the launch as it headed for the yacht club landing and, +when it had moved beyond any possibility of hearing, laughed outright. + +"The poor man!" she said. "I'd better watch myself. Back in New York I +felt as if I were living in a reign of hidden terror. Now the pendulum +is at the other extreme and I feel as if I could do anything that +pleased me. It's a time for caution, probably. But he is so funny!" + +Bill was gone for several hours. He was late for lunch when the launch +drew alongside the _Sunshine_; in fact, everybody else had had lunch +long ago. His visit ashore had not been satisfactory and was only +prolonged because he felt that the shore, however strange and lonesome, +was more congenial than the deck of his yacht. + +He spied Aunt Caroline in an easy chair. + +"Nobody home, Aunt Caroline!" he said. + +"Oh, I'm sorry, William. Well, there's no hurry, of course; we can stay +over indefinitely. Probably you'd better go back this afternoon." + +Bill had no intention of going back. He had not visited a single house; +he had done nothing beyond making several futile attempts to get a +telephone connection with Kid Whaley. + +He glanced about the deck and saw nobody but a couple of hands. + +"Where's Miss Norcross?" he asked. + +"She went swimming," said Aunt Caroline. + +"Swimming!" + +"Right off the yacht, William. Do you know that she's a very remarkable +swimmer. I was completely astonished." + +William went to the rail and surveyed the harbor. He saw no sign of a +swimmer. + +"Where is she?" he demanded. + +"Oh, somewhere out there," said Aunt Caroline, with an easy gesture. +"She's perfectly safe. Peter is with her." + +"What!" + +"They went swimming together. I wish you could have seen them, William. +They were just like two children. They've been swimming all around among +the yachts. Where they are now I haven't the least idea; but they'll be +back." + +Bill struck the rail savagely and once again glared out at the harbor. +So this was the reason his secretary did not want to go ashore; she had +an engagement to go swimming with his valet. But if Bill was disturbed, +not so Aunt Caroline; she was once more absorbed in her magazine. + +The boss of the yacht _Sunshine_ walked forward, where he found the +second officer superintending the cleaning of brasswork. + +"Where's that swimming party of ours?" asked Bill, carelessly. + +"Now, there's a question you might well ask, sir," said the second +officer. "Where aren't they? Seems to me they've been all over the +harbor, sir, as far as I can make out. Never saw anything like it." + +"Is there any boat following them?" + +"Boat, sir?" The second officer laughed. "I don't know what they'd be +doing with a boat. The last time I saw them they looked as if they were +fit to swim to Europe. And the young lady, sir!" + +He made what was intended to be an eloquent gesture. + +"What about the young lady?" + +"A fish, sir; a fish, if ever one lived. First off they did a lot of +playing around the yacht, sir. Climbing aboard and diving off again. I +give you my word, sir, the whole crew was on deck watching. The young +lady--well, she's a little thing, but she's nicely set up, sir. She'd +think nothing of making a back dive off the end of the bridge. And the +young gentleman was no ways behind her, sir. You'd think there was a +couple of porpoises in the harbor." + +Bill's soul was growing blacker and blacker. + +"I've seen swimmers in my time, but never the beat of that pair, unless +it was professionals," added the second officer, in a musing tone. + +He glanced out at the water, then gestured quickly. + +"Look, now! There they go." + +Bill looked. There was a commotion in the water a hundred yards distant. +Two heads were moving rapidly in parallel courses; one was conspicuous +in a scarlet bathing cap. He could see a flashing of wet arms; the sound +of a familiar laugh came to him. A race seemed to be in progress. + +He ran up on the bridge for a better view and evidently the red cap +sighted him, for there was an instant of slackened pace and the joyous +wave of a white arm. And then she was again leaving a wake behind her as +she sped in pursuit of the second swimmer. Bill gritted his teeth and +watched. They were not returning to the yacht; rather, they were +increasing their distance from it with every stroke. He stared until +they passed from sight behind a big sloop that lay at anchor, and then +the harbor seemed to swallow them. Evidently they were again exploring +the yacht anchorage, which was crowded with craft. + +Bill slowly returned to the deck. + +"They've been at it over an hour," volunteered the second officer. "Get +the lady to dive for you when they come back, sir. She'll surprise you, +if I don't mistake." + +Bill made no answer, but walked aft, where he plunged himself heavily +into a wicker chair. Aunt Caroline had retired to her stateroom for a +nap and he had the deck to himself. + +"I'll not stand for it!" he muttered fiercely. "Last night they were +sneaking off to town together and now they're making a holy show of +themselves here. What does she think she can put over on me, anyhow? As +for Pete Stearns, I'll drown him." + +In fact, Bill for a time had been minded to get into his own bathing +suit and pursue them, but his dignity intervened. No; if his secretary +chose to run away with his valet, let her do so. What made it worse, she +knew he was aboard; she had seen him; she had waved her arm at him. And +then, deliberately, she had turned her back upon him. + +After half an hour of glooming he went to the rail again and once more +searched the harbor with his glance. He saw no flashing arms; no red +cap. + +"I won't stand much more of this," he said, grimly. "I'll show them +where they get off." + +He went to his stateroom and mixed a drink, and after that he mixed +another. Presently he returned to the deck, this time with a pair of +binoculars. The glasses showed him no more than he had been able to see +without them. He fell to pacing, his hands clasped behind him, his +glance directed at the canvas-covered deck beneath his feet. Napoleon +could have done it no better; Lord Nelson would have been hard put to +outdo him. + +The afternoon was as fair as the morning, but Bill took no account of +its glory. He was wholly absorbed in plumbing the gloomy depths of his +mind. + +"They think they're putting it over on me," he sneered. "All right. Let +'em see what happens." + +Once again he swept the glasses in a circle of the harbor. No scarlet +cap. He glanced at his watch. + +"Well, I'm through. Time's up." + +Slipping the glasses into their case, he strode forward and banged on +the door of the sailing master's cabin. A sleepy-eyed officer answered +the summons. + +"We're going to pull out of here at once," said Bill. + +"Everybody aboard, sir?" + +"Everybody that's going." + +"Very good, sir. Which way are we heading?" + +"I'll tell you when we get outside the harbor. I'm in a hurry." + +The sailing master ducked back into his cabin, shouted an order through +a speaking tube that communicated with the engine-room and then ran +forward along the deck. A minute later the winch was wheezing and the +yacht _Sunshine_ was bringing her mud-hook aboard. + +Bill retired to his stateroom and poured another drink. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CASTAWAYS + + +Two swimmers rested for breath at an anchorage buoy and smiled at each +other. + +"Where did you learn to swim, anyhow?" demanded Pete Stearns. "You never +said a word about it until this afternoon." + +"I don't tell all I know," said Mary, tucking a wet lock under the +scarlet cap. + +"I believe you. But there's only one thing I'd criticise; you'd get more +out of that trudgeon of yours if you watched your breathing." + +"I know it," she answered, with a nod. "But I don't take it so seriously +as all that. I've always managed to get along, anyhow." + +Pete blinked the salt water out of his eyes and studied the social +secretary with new respect. + +"You haven't ever been a diving beauty or a movie bathing girl or +anything like that, have you?" + +Mary laughed. "Not yet, thank you. I never made any money out of +swimming." + +"Oh, they don't swim," said Pete. "They just dress for it." + +"Well, I never did that, either." + +"But you could if you wanted to." + +"That will do," said Mary. + +Even in the democratic embrace of Larchmont Harbor she did not think it +advisable for her employer's valet to venture into the realm of +personal compliment. Besides, she was not wholly convinced of the +validity of his status as a valet. For one thing, she had never heard of +a valet who could swim, and by swimming she meant more than the ordinary +paddling about of the average human. For Mary could swim herself and she +had discovered that Pete was something more than her equal. + +"Well, anyhow," he said, "you're a first-class seagoing secretary. Did +you notice Mr. Marshall standing on the bridge? I think he saw us." + +"I'm quite sure he did. And I believe we'd better be starting back." + +"Is it a race?" + +"You never can tell," said Mary, as she slid off the buoy like a seal +and shot along under the surface for a dozen feet. + +Pete fell in beside her and let her set the pace. It was a smart one and +he did not try to take the lead; he was saving himself for the sprint. +For several minutes Mary attended strictly to her work. They were +reaching mid-harbor when she eased up and raised her head to take a +bearing for the _Sunshine_. Then she ceased swimming altogether and +began to tread. + +"Why, where's the yacht?" she said. + +Pete also paused for a survey. + +"They've moved it, haven't they? Well, I'll----" + +He made a slow and deliberate inspection of the horizon. + +"Is that it?" and Mary pointed. + +Pete studied a stern view of a somewhat distant craft, shading his eyes +from the sun. + +"That's it," he announced. "And it's still moving." + +"They must be going to anchor in another place. I think they might have +waited until we reached them. Shall we follow?" + +She did not wait for an answer, but fell once more into a steady +trudgeon stroke that served her extremely well. Then she paused for +another reconnaissance. + +"The darn thing is still moving," declared Pete. "It's further off than +when we first saw it. Now, what do you make out of that?" + +Mary wrinkled her forehead into a moist frown as the water dripped from +the tip of her nose. + +"It's perfectly silly to try to catch it by swimming," she said. "They +must have forgotten all about us. Why didn't they blow a whistle, or +something?" + +There was no question that the silhouette of the _Sunshine_ had receded +since their first observation. Pete tried to judge the distance; it was +more than half a mile, he was certain. + +"Well, what'll we do? Paddle around here and wait for it to come back?" + +"I don't mind admitting that I'm a little bit tired," said Mary. "I'm +not going to wait out here in the middle of the bay for Mr. Marshall to +turn his yacht around. How far is it over to that shore?" + +"It's only a few hundred yards. Shall we go?" + +"We'll go there and wait until we see what they're going to do." + +Several minutes afterward Pete stood waist deep on a sandy bottom. There +was a tiny beach in front of them, where a cove nestled between two +rocky horns. He gazed out into the harbor. + +"It's still going--the other way," he reported. + +Mary was also standing and staring. The _Sunshine_ looked discouragingly +small. + +"Oh, well, we'll sit on the beach and get some sun. If Bill--if Mr. +Marshall thinks he's having fun with us he's greatly mistaken. I'm +having the time of my ecclesiastical life." + +He waded ashore and sat down on the sand. But Mary did not follow. She +stood immersed to her waist, biting her lip. There was a look of +annoyance and a hint of confusion in her eyes. + +"You'd better come ashore and rest," called Pete. "You'll get chilled +standing half in and half out of the water." + +"I--I can't come ashore very well," said Mary. + +"What's the matter?" + +She was flushing under her freckles. + +"When we decided to swim around the harbor," she said, slowly, +"I--er--slipped off the skirt of my bathing suit and tossed it up to one +of the deck-hands to keep for me until I got back. And it's aboard the +yacht now." + +Pete stifled a grin. + +"It--it wasn't a very big skirt," she added. "But it was a skirt." + +"Oh, forget it," he advised. "Don't mind me. Come on out of the water." + +But Mary was again studying the retreating yacht. At that instant she +would have liked to have laid hands on Bill Marshall. Not only the skirt +of her bathing suit, but every stitch she owned was aboard that yacht. + +"I'm only a valet," Pete reminded her. + +Mary was not at all certain about that, but she decided not to be +foolish any longer. She waded ashore. There was something boyish about +her as she emerged full length into the picture, yet not too boyish. Not +only was she lacking a skirt, but also stockings, for when Mary went +swimming she put aside frills. The scarlet bathing cap gave her a +charming jauntiness; although she was anything but jaunty in mood. + +"My, but the sun is comfortable," she said, as she sat down and dug her +toes into the sand. + +"It'll warm you up," said Pete, affecting to take no notice of her +costume. "Say, what do you make out of that yacht, anyhow?" + +"It seems to be still going. It looks awfully small to me." + +They watched it for another minute. + +"There's another landing down that way, where they're headed," said +Pete. "Maybe they want to send somebody up to town for something." + +"You've been here before, haven't you?" + +"Oh, I've valeted 'round a bit in the summers, miss." + +She gave him a swift, sidelong glance. Out in the harbor he had dropped +the "miss"; the water seemed to have washed away his surface servility. +Now he was falling back into the manner of his calling. + +"They can't go much farther in that direction," he added. "They've +either got to anchor, turn around or stand out for the mouth of the +harbor. We'll know in a minute or two, miss." + +"Please stop calling me 'miss,'" she said, sharply. + +"Why?" He turned innocent eyes toward her. + +"It annoys me." + +"Oh, very well. But I didn't want you to feel that I was forgetting my +place. Once you reminded me----" + +"Never mind, if you please. I think one of your troubles is that you are +too conscious of your 'place,' as you call it. You make other people +conscious of it." + +"I'm unconscious from now on, Miss Way--Miss Norcross." + +She whirled around upon him in fair earnest. + +"Excuse me," said Pete. "I get the names mixed. I'm apt to do the same +thing when I'm with your friend Miss Wayne." + +She studied him with uneasy eyes. How much did he know? Or was he just +blundering clumsily around on the brink of a discovery? Last night he +had flung a pointed hint at her; it came to her mind now. Well, if there +was to be a battle, Mary felt that she was not without her weapons. She +knew of a divinity student who followed the prize ring and who kissed +the house guests of the master to whom he played valet. + +"She's swinging around," said Pete, abruptly, pointing out into the +harbor. + +The _Sunshine_ was turning to port and now showed her profile. But she +was not turning far enough to cruise back in her own wake. Her new +course was almost at a right angle to that she had been following, and +she seemed bent upon pursuing it briskly. + +Pete gasped and leaped to his feet. + +"Come on!" he cried. + +The rocky promontory that sheltered one end of their little beach was +cutting off a view of the yacht. He raced along the strip of sand, with +Mary at his heels, quite unconscious of her missing skirt and certainly +a gainer in freedom of movement through the lack of it. + +Pete climbed the rocks at reckless speed and she followed him, heedless +of the rough places. He was poised rigidly on an eminence as she +scrambled up beside him. + +"Damnation!" + +He said it so fervently that it seemed to Mary the most sincere word he +had ever spoken. + +"Do you see what they're doing?" he cried, seizing her arm. "Look! +They're heading out of the harbor!" + +"You mean they're leaving us?" + +He shook her arm almost savagely. + +"Can't you see? There they go. They're headed out, I tell you. They're +going out into the Sound!" + +The yacht seemed to be gaining in speed. + +"But I just can't believe it," she said, in a stifled voice. + +"You'd better, then. Look!" + +"But I'm sure that Mr. Marshall wouldn't----" + +"Oh, you are, are you? Well, I'll prove to you in about one holy minute +that he'll do whatever comes into his crazy head. Take your last look. +They're on their way." + +Nor had they long to wait in order to be convinced beyond argument. Even +at the distance that separated them from the _Sunshine_ they could see +the white bone in her teeth as she continued to pick up speed. And then +she was gone, beyond a jutting point that barred their vision. + +Pete looked at Mary. Mary looked at Pete. Both looked again toward the +spot where they caught their last glimpse of the Sunshine. Then, with +one accord and without speech, they slowly descended to the beach and +sat in the sand. A thin, blue cloud of rage seemed to have descended +upon them. + +Minutes afterward she flung a handful of sand at an innocent darning +needle that was treading air directly in front of her. + +"Oh, say something!" she cried. + +"You'd censor it, Mlle. Secretary." + +"I wouldn't!" + +Pete lifted his eyes to the heavens and swore horribly. + +"That's better," she said. "But you needn't do it any more. Now what are +we going to do?" + +"Wait for the commander-in-chief to get over his practical joke, I +suppose." + +"Then, this is your idea of a joke, is it?" + +"Not mine; his," said Pete. "And it's not so bad, at that." + +Mary tried to wither him with a look. + +"I believe you don't care," she said, stormily. + +"Oh, yes, I do. But I'm all over the rage part of it. What's the use?" + +"Well, think of something, then." + +"I don't think it even requires thinking. What is there to do but sit +here and wait?" + +Mary gritted her teeth. + +"That may be all right for you," she said, coldly. "But it seems +absolutely futile to me. We don't know whether they'll ever come back." + +"Oh, they're bound to." + +"They're not, anything of the kind! He's done it deliberately; I'm sure +of it. I wish I had him here for about two minutes." + +"I wish you had," said Pete, earnestly. "I'd pay for a grand stand +seat." + +"I'd tell him what I think of him." + +"You sure would." + +"I never felt so helpless in my life. All I'm doing is getting +sunburned. I'll be a fright." + +"If it's freckles you're worrying about, he likes 'em." + +"Oh, don't talk about them." She had a sudden craving for a mirror. But +beyond that boyish bathing suit and the scarlet rubber cap, Mary did not +even possess so much as a hairpin. She would have given a million +dollars for a kimono and a vanity bag. + +"At a rough guess," mused Pete, "I'd say we're the first persons who +were ever shipwrecked on a society coast. Didn't you ever feel a +yearning to be marooned?" + +"Never--and I never will, after this." + +"Well, we're better off than a lot of castaways. We're not on an island. +We can walk home, if it comes to that." + +"Walk! Dressed like this?" + +"Swim, then." + +Mary relapsed into a fit of exasperated silence. If Pete's rage had +cooled, her own was still at cherry heat. She felt ready to take the +whole world by the throat and shake revenge out of it, particularly out +of Bill Marshall. But she was helpless even to start upon the warpath. A +girl in a bathing suit, the skirt of which had been carried to sea by a +ruthless yacht, is not panoplied for a campaign. She felt shamed, +outraged, desperate to the point of violence--and futile. It seemed +quite possible, as she viewed it then, that she might be compelled to +sit on that beach for the remainder of her life. Certainly she did not +intend to walk around Larchmont in a costume designed only for the +Australian crawl. + +Pete was devoting time to a survey of their immediate environment. The +beach was not more than ten yards in breadth; it was bounded on either +side by the little capes of rock, and behind them by a low stone wall. A +well-rolled and clipped lawn came down to the edge of the wall; it was +studded with trees and shrubs. The gable of a dwelling was visible +through an opening. As Pete studied the landscape a figure appeared from +among the trees. + +It was that of a young man in white flannels. He approached to the top +of the stone wall and observed them carefully. + +"This is a private beach," said the young man, speaking in a peculiar +drawl that Pete immediately identified with the world of exclusive +society. + +Mary, until then unaware of the presence of a third person, turned +quickly, observed the speaker and huddled her knees under her chin. + +"Well, we're private citizens," said Pete. + +"We do not permit trespassing," said the young man. + +"Do you by any chance permit Divine Providence to deposit a pair of +shipwrecked castaways on your seacoast?" inquired the valet. + +The young man in flannels appeared to be puzzled. He was now studying +Mary with particular attention. Then he glanced quickly from side to +side, as though searching for something else. + +"We never permit motion pictures to be taken here," he said. "Oblige me +by going away." + +"My dear sir," said Pete, who had risen to his feet, "we are not in the +movies. We are not here for fame or for profit. We do not occupy your +beach either in the interests of art or health. We are merely here as +the result of a contingency, a hazard of fortune, a mischance of fate." + +"Well, go away." + +The young man stepped down on the beach and approached for a closer +view. + +Pete turned and whispered to Mary: + +"Shall we steal his beautiful clothes and divide 'em up?" + +"Hush!" she said. + +The owner of the white flannels, which Pete was coveting with envious +eyes, studied Mary until she began to blush. + +"We do not wish to have this kind of a display on our private +waterfront," he remarked. "You must leave at once." + +Mary sprang up, her gray eyes dangerous. + +"Can't you see that we're in distress?" she cried, hotly. + +He surveyed her deliberately--her legs, bare from the knees down, her +skirtless trunks, her white, rounded arms. + +"I can see very little of anything," was his comment. + +"Why, you----" + +But even though she choked on her words, there was no need for her to +finish them. Pete stepped to within a yard of the stranger. + +"I don't like the color of your hair," he said, "and that, of course, +leaves me no alternative." + +So he tapped the young man on the nose, so unexpectedly and with such +speed and virility that the owner of the nose lost his balance and sat +in the sand. + +Pete turned and seized Mary by the hand. + +"Run like hell," he counseled. + +"But where?" + +"Overboard." + +He dragged her across the sand and out into the water. Waist deep they +paused and looked back. + +The young man in flannels had followed to the edge of the water, where +he stood holding a handkerchief to his nose and shaking a fist. + +"You come ashore!" he yelled. + +"We can't, sir. It's private," said Pete, with a bland grin. + +"Come back here. I'm going to thrash you!" + +"We can't come back," said Pete, "but we invite you to join us, dear old +thing." + +The young man stood irresolute, glaring at them. Then he looked down at +his flannels and edged backward a step from the water. + +"I'm going to have you arrested!" he cried, as he turned and ran in the +direction of the house. + +Pete waved him a gay salute. + +"Well, come on," he said to Mary. + +"Where?" + +"To a more friendly coast. We can't use this one any more." + +He struck out into the harbor and Mary followed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE SPOILERS + + +They followed the shore for a while and presently a bend in its contour +hid their view of the unfriendly harbor. It was an aimless journey. They +were safe from the revenge of the young man in white flannels, but they +were as far as ever from any project of rescue. Mary swam in a listless, +automatic fashion; there was no longer any zest of sport. She was not +tired, but her enthusiasm had oozed away. As for Pete, he also felt that +there had been enough swimming for a day. + +"Shall we try that place in there?" she asked, lifting her arm above the +water and pointing. + +"I'm for it," he answered, with a nod. "I'm not going to be a poor fish +any longer. I don't care if they meet us with a shotgun committee." + +Their second landing place was devoid of a beach, but it had shelving, +sunwarmed rocks, upon which they climbed out and sat down. + +"I never suspected you were a fighter," observed Mary, the recent +picture still fresh in memory. + +"I'm not. I'm a baseball player, by rights. That was what they call the +hit-and-run play." + +"Well, I think you did excellently, Peter. I was just getting ready to +do something like that myself. Was his nose bleeding?" + +"Here's hoping. While I don't claim to be within a mile of Signor +Antonio Valentino's class, I have a fixed impression that by this time +the young gentleman has a beak like a pelican." + +Mary glanced appreciatively at her knight. "I'm glad Mr. Marshall wasn't +there," she said. + +"Why?" + +"If he had hit him the young man would probably be dead, and then we'd +have lots of trouble." + +"Now, that," said Pete, in an aggrieved tone, "is what I call +ungrateful. I hit the bird as hard as I could, didn't I? I don't see any +need of dragging the boss into this, by way of comparison. Of course, if +you can't get him out of your head----" + +"Nonsense! He's not in my head. I said I was glad he wasn't there, +didn't I? And I explained why. I didn't mean to take any credit away +from you at all. Don't be so sensitive. Are you hungry?" + +Pete groaned. + +"There! Now you've done it. I've been busy trying to forget it and +you've deliberately made me remember it. Of course I'm hungry. If I +don't eat I'm going to die." + +"So am I." + +Pete stood up and looked about him. + +"I don't see any cocoanut palms or breadfruit trees," he said. "That's +what we're supposed to live on, isn't it? I don't even see a drink of +water. It's an awful come-down for a pair of Robinson Crusoes, but it +looks as if I'd have to go to somebody's kitchen door and ask for a +handout." + +"Never," said Mary. "I'll starve first." + +"I don't think that's a very clever revenge. I'm still pusillanimous +enough to eat. I'll scout around." + +"No!" + +"But why not?" + +"Because I feel ridiculous enough as it is," she declared, frowning at +her costume. + +"But I might be able to locate some of our society friends. We're +supposed to have friends here, aren't we?" + +"I wouldn't dream of appealing to them." + +Pete shook his head helplessly. + +"Do you expect to sit here for the rest of your life?" + +"I don't care. I'm not going to humiliate myself any further. We might +meet another man and----" + +"But I'll soak him for you. Honest." + +"We might meet several." + +"It doesn't take you long to collect a crowd, does it?" he said. "You +can invent whole armies right out of your head. Be cheerful and take it +the other way around; we may not meet anybody at all." + +But Mary wiggled her toes in the sun and shook her head. + +"You stay here, then, and I'll reconnoiter." + +"No! I don't intend to be left alone." + +"Let's hoist a signal of distress, then. That's always been done and +it's considered perfectly good form." + +"No." + +"All right. Starve!" Pete made no effort to hide exasperation. + +"I don't believe you'd care if I did." + +His only answer to that was a gesture of despair. Who was it who claimed +to understand woman? Pete would have been glad to submit this one for +analysis and report. + +He sat with his knees drawn up under his chin, staring out at the +harbor. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted +to stretch his legs. He wanted to do anything except remain glued to a +rock, like a shellfish. Why did she have to be so fussy on the subject +of conventions? He knew that many a martyr had died cheerfully for a +cause. But did ever one die for a cause like this? + +After half an hour of silence he was about to renew the argument when he +discovered that she was asleep. She had curled herself up in a sunny +hollow of the rocks, made a pillow out of an arm and become quite +oblivious to Larchmont Harbor and all the world beyond and around it. + +Pete arose cautiously. He climbed further up on the rocks, then paused +to look back. She had not moved. He went still farther inshore, moving +noiselessly on all fours, then straightened up and walked as briskly as +a man may who is not innured to going barefoot in the rough places. + +"If she wakes up, let her holler," he muttered. "I'm going to take a +look around." + +Half an hour later he was back again, munching an apple. He had several +more that he placed on the rock beside Mary, who still slept as +dreamlessly as a baby and who had not stirred during his absence. Pete +regarded her with severe eyes. + +"Shall I wake her? No. Let her sleep the sleep of starvation within +arm's reach of food. Never was there any justice more poetic. If she +wants to be stubborn let her find out what it is costing her. Perhaps +I'd better eat all the apples. No; I won't do that. Then she'd never +know what she missed. I might leave a little row of cores for her to +look at. That's a good idea, but--oh, she'd murder me. I think she +could be dangerous if she tried." + +Mary did not look dangerous. She seemed more like a tired little child. +Once she stirred, but did not awaken, although she smiled faintly. + +"Dreaming of Bill," was Pete's comment. "Which reminds me: wonder where +Bill is?" + +Several yachts had entered the harbor; others had left. But although he +made systematic survey of the entire anchorage there was no trace of the +_Sunshine_. The sun disappeared, and there followed a perceptible +cooling of the air. Pete reached mechanically for his watch, then +remembered and laughed. The laugh awoke Mary. + +She sat up in a daze, staring at him. + +"We're in Larchmont, sitting on a rock and trying to be dignified in the +midst of preposterous adversity," he reminded her. "Have an apple?" + +She seized one and bit into it, then eyed him accusingly. + +"You did go away, didn't you?" + +"Oh, hear the woman! Certainly I did. I sneaked off as soon as you hit +the hay. I'm not cut out for a martyr. But I notice you're not above +accepting the fruits of my enterprise. Now, are you ready to be +reasonable?" + +"I'm always reasonable," she mumbled through a large mouthful. + +"So? Well, listen, then: I have made discoveries." + +Mary stopped chewing and stared expectantly. + +"Those apples come from a toy orchard. The orchard is part of the +backyard of a house. This place where we are sitting is part of the +waterfront adjoining that house. So much I have learned by being +cautious as well as intrepid. Do I bore you?" + +"Hurry!" she commanded. + +"In the other part of that backyard, nearest to the house, is something +even more important than food. Can you guess?" + +"Clothes?" + +"Not exactly the word," said Pete. "It is better to say the week's wash. +My dear seagoing secretary, there is wash enough in that backyard not +only for you and me, but for the whole crew of the _Sunshine_, if they +had happened to be cast away with us." + +"Well, if there are clothes there, for Heaven's sake, why didn't you +bring some? I'm getting chilly." + +"Wash, I said; not clothes. You'll understand when you see. The reason I +didn't bring any is simple: it was still broad daylight. Back in the +orchard I had partial concealment among the trees, but I took chances, +even there. To have invaded the raiment department would have been +foolhardiness, for which I have never been celebrated. So I merely +located the outfit and provided myself with food." + +He glanced out at the harbor. + +"In a very short time it will be twilight, and when twilight comes we +will see what can be done to remove a rival from the path of Annette +Kellerman." + +Mary was too deeply interested in these disclosures to pay any attention +to this reference to her present costume. He had brought a new hope into +her life. Clothes at last! After that--well, clothes came first. Except, +of course, the apples. She began to eat another. + +Never had a twilight gathered so slowly. Just as she had been immovable +before, now it was difficult to restrain her impatience. She was for +starting at once. + +"I'm getting chillier all the time," she complained. + +"Patience," he counseled. "Give us fifteen minutes more. If you're cold +you might spend the time doing setting-up exercises." + +He took his own advice and began a series of exercises that were highly +recommended to the pupils of Kid Whaley's gymnasium. Mary watched for +awhile and then emulated him, so that two figures were presently engaged +in an occupation that suggested nothing so much as a pair of railroad +semaphores gone mad. Eventually they paused breathless. + +"I think we'd better go," said Pete. "A man on that nearest yacht seems +to be trying to answer us with a pair of wigwag flags. You didn't happen +to be telegraphing him anything, did you?" + +Mary squealed and began scrambling up the rocks. + +"You'd better let me take the lead," he said. "I know the way. Follow +close behind me and do whatever I do. If I flop down on my stomach, you +flop. If I duck behind a tree, you duck. If I run, run." + +"And if we get caught?" she asked. + +"That's one thing we won't permit. Don't suggest it. Take to the water +again, if it comes to that." + +The ledge of rock along which they picked their way ended at a grassy +bluff, where there was a grove of small evergreens. In among the trees +Pete paused to look and listen. Then he beckoned her to follow. Dusk was +thicker in the grove, and Mary felt more comfortable in its added +security, although she hoped it would not be long before they came to +the land of promised raiment. Pete moved stealthily and she imitated +his caution. + +They skirted along close to the edge of the bluff, keeping within the +shelter of the evergreens. Through a vista she glimpsed a house, and +pointed, but Pete shook his head. Evidently it was not the right one. +Presently they arrived at a tall, thickly grown hedge. + +He got down on all fours in front of it, thrust his head into an opening +and, with a series of cautious wriggles, began to disappear from her +sight. When he had completely vanished, Mary undertook to follow him. +The hedge was rough and stiff, and the aperture through which he had +passed was uncomfortably small. With head and shoulders through, she +looked up and found him beckoning. + +"It scratches awfully," she whispered. + +"S-sh! Never mind the scratches." + +She wriggled a few inches farther. + +"Ouch! I'm afraid I'll tear----" + +"Let it tear." + +He seized her hand and dragged her completely through, mindless of her +protest that she was being flayed. + +"Don't talk so loudly," he warned. "You're in the orchard now. It's only +a little way to the raiment. Remember: this is no deserted house. The +folks are home. I'm banking on the fact that they're at dinner, and that +the servants are busy. Come on." + +He now began to advance by a series of short rushes, each rush taking +him from the shelter of one tree to the next. Mary followed, +establishing herself behind a tree as soon as he had vacated it. It +seemed to her that the trees were intolerably meager in girth; she felt +as if she were trying to hide behind a series of widely placed lead +pencils. But the dusk was continuing to thicken, which was welcome +consolation. + +They were within easy view of the house now. It was something more than +a house; it was a mansion, filled with innumerable windows, it seemed to +Mary, and out of each window a pair of accusing eyes probably staring. +Where the orchard left off there was an open space, and beyond that a +yard full of fluttering garments, suspended from a clothes line. Between +the yard and the house was another hedge, and Pete was counting upon +that hedge as a screen. + +They paused at the edge of the orchard. + +"For the next few minutes we are in the hands of Providence," he +whispered. "Want to come with me, or will you trust me to pick out a +costume?" + +"I--I'll trust you," said Mary. + +"Stay right here, then. Here goes." + +Out into the open, where there was still an ominous amount of daylight, +dashed Bill Marshall's valet, bent as low as he could manage without +sacrificing speed. Mary held her breath and watched. A few seconds and +he vanished behind a white curtain that represented a part of the family +wash. + +To Mary it seemed that there was an interminable interval. Then, with a +spooky flutter, the white curtain that hid him seemed to sink into the +ground. Another instant and the flying figure of Pete Stearns was +approaching. He seemed to be pursued by a long, white snake, writhing +close at his heels. And then he was back in the shelter of the trees. + +"Help pull on this!" he panted. + +And Mary identified the white snake as a clothes line to which was +attached garment after garment of ghostly hue. She seized the line and +together they raced back toward the rear of the orchard, the snake +following. + +"Found a sickle and cut the whole line!" he explained. "Quickest way. +Help yourself. I'll begin at the other end." + +Mary was pulling clothes-pins as rapidly as she could make her fingers +fly. + +"Don't stop to choose anything here," he warned. "Take everything. We've +got to beat it." + +So they took everything. Pete made two hasty bundles, thrust one into +her arms, picked up the other and started at a lope through the orchard, +in a direction opposite to that from which they had come. They came to +another hedge that was as forbidding as the one through which they had +passed. + +He dropped his bundle, dove half-way through the hedge, made a swift +inspection of what lay beyond, and then hauled himself back again. + +"It's all right," he said. + +Picking up his bundle, he tossed it over the hedge. He seized Mary's and +repeated. + +"Now for you!" + +Before she could protest, even had she been so minded, Pete was wedging +her into a dense, prickly obstruction and ordering her to scramble with +all her might. She landed head down on the other side of the hedge, and +was picking herself up when he joined her. + +He seized both bundles and started running again. + +They were still among evergreens, but the property was evidently that of +a neighbor. Pete had made an observation of it on his previous journey. +He knew exactly where he was going. Right on the edge of the bluff, +which still followed the line of the shore, stood a summer pavilion. +Into its shadowy shelter he dashed, with Mary Wayne close behind. + +"There!" he gasped, tossing the bundles to the floor. "Now doll yourself +up." + +Five minutes later she looked at him in dismay. + +"Why, it's nothing but lingerie!" she exclaimed. + +Pete was holding out a pair of silk pajamas at arm's length, for better +inspection. + +"What did you expect? A tailor-made suit?" he demanded. "I'm going to be +satisfied with these." + +"But lingerie! And it's----" + +"Put on plenty of it and it'll keep you warm." + +"You don't understand," she said. "Oh, we've done an awful thing!" + +She spread out a long, lacy garment and viewed it with awe in her eyes. + +"Do you know lingerie when you see it?" she demanded. "Why, this is so +beautiful that I'm afraid of it. I never dared buy anything like this +for myself." + +"Is that's what worrying you?" + +"But it's perishable--fragile! And I'm afraid I've torn some of it +already. You're not a woman and you can't understand--but what I'm doing +is almost a sacrilege. I feel like a vandal." + +"Here's some more," said Pete, tossing additional articles out of his +pile. "What do you care? Pile it on." + +He discovered a second suit of pajamas as he rummaged further, and added +them to his collection. + +"Give you five minutes to dress," he said, as he stepped outside the +summer-house, the pajamas tucked under his arm. + +Pete dressed on the edge of the bluff, putting on one suit of pajamas +over another, and keeping a wary eye for possible intruders. So +concerned was he lest they be discovered that he was unaware, until he +had finished dressing, that his outer covering consisted of the coat of +one suit and the trousers of another. The coat was striped in purple and +green, the trousers in a delicate shade of salmon pink. But the effect +did not dismay him; rather, it appealed to his sense of color. + +As he approached the summer-house he saw an apparition in the doorway. +Mary Wayne had taken his advice; she had piled it on. + +"Jehosaphat!" he exclaimed in a low voice. "You look like something out +of Rider Haggard, or grand opera, or---- Why, you're barbaric!" + +"Isn't it awful!" she whispered. + +"Awful? Why, it's magnificent! You're not dressed--you're arrayed! +You're a poem, a ballad--a romance! You're a queen of Egypt; you're +something from the next world! You're--oh, baby!" + +He spread his hands and salaamed. + +"Hush, for Heaven's sake! I just can't wear this. It's impossible!" + +"You're a hasheesh dream," he murmured. + +Mary shook her head angrily. + +"I've no shoes," she said. "And the stockings are not mates." + +"You're a vision from heaven," said Pete. + +"Shut up! Don't you see I'm no better off than I was before? Neither are +you." + +"We're warmer, anyhow." + +"Oh, be sensible." + +"And we're more beautiful," he added, stroking his silken coat. + +"But we can't go anywhere in these things!" she cried. "We'll be +arrested. We haven't any money. We'll be taken for lunatics. And then +they'll find out we're thieves. And then---- Oh, I wish I'd never come +on this awful trip!" + +Pete shook off the spell of his gorgeous imagination. + +"You're a hard lady to please," he said. "But I'll see what I can do. Go +back in the summer-house and wait for me. If anybody bothers you, jump +at them and do some kind of an incantation. They'll leave you alone, +fast enough." + +"Where are you going now?" she demanded. + +"Well, having stolen a classy outfit of society lingerie for you, I'm +now going to see if I can steal you a limousine." + +"Peter! Don't you leave me here. Come back! I----" + +But he was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE HIGH COST OF JEALOUSY + + +Bill Marshall, leaning on the after rail of his yacht and watching the +churning, white wake of her twin screws, was not sure but the best way +to mend things was to jump overboard and forget how to swim. Jealousy +and rage were no longer his chief troubles. Remorse had perched itself +on his already burdened shoulders. And then came shame, piling itself on +top of remorse. And soon afterward fear, to sit on the shoulders of +shame. Truly, his load was great. + +To steam his way out of Larchmont Harbor had been a magnificent revenge. +But with Bill, vengeance was never a protracted emotion; when its thrill +began to fade it left him chilled. Even jealousy did not suffice to warm +him. And then came crowding all the other emotions, to thrust him down +into a bottomless mire of despondency and irresolution. + +The sailing master of the _Sunshine_ had reached the opinion that his +owner, in which relation, as charterer, Bill stood for the time being, +was either extremely absent-minded or slightly mad. When the yacht +cleared the harbor he asked for further orders. Bill told him to stand +across the Sound for awhile. When it was no longer possible to hold that +course, because of the presence of Long Island, he again asked for a +course. Bill advised him to sail east awhile, then west awhile, but on +no account to bother him about the matter any further. So this was done, +while the sailing master and his two officers held whispered +consultations on the subject of their owner. + +While these somewhat peculiar maneuvers were being carried into +execution, Bill endeavored to reach a decision. Should he go back to +Larchmont and hunt for the missing ones? No; their punishment was not +yet great enough. Even if he went back, was there any chance of finding +them? Had they gone ashore? Had they been picked up by a craft? Had--he +shivered--anything worse happened to them? Of course nothing had +happened to them; of course. He assured himself of that over and over +again. And yet--well, things did happen, even to the best of swimmers. +And if anything had happened, what could he do now? Would he be +responsible? Would he be a murderer? Nonsense; certainly not. Yet he +would feel himself a murderer, even if the law demanded nothing of him. +Why, if anything happened to that little girl---- He gripped the rail +and tried to pull himself together. + +Well, even if the worst happened, it would put an end to his society +career. There might be consolation in that, he thought; but much as he +sought to draw upon this source of comfort, it yielded little. + +"Any further orders, sir?" asked the sailing master. + +"Not yet; keep on sailing." + +"But which way, sir?" + +Bill glared. + +"Forward, backward, sidewise--suit yourself." + +The sailing master went away with deep wrinkles in his forehead and, for +a change, the _Sunshine_ began to describe wide circles. She was still +circling, like a destroyer waiting to pounce upon a submarine, when +Aunt Caroline, fresh from her nap, came on deck. She found Bill still +standing at the stern. + +"Have you seen Miss Norcross, William?" + +"Not for some time." + +"I've been looking for her. I can't imagine where she is." + +"Neither can I." + +Aunt Caroline looked at him inquiringly. + +"You haven't quarreled with her about anything, have you, William?" + +"Quarreled? No, indeed; there's been no quarrel." + +"I'm glad of that," said Aunt Caroline. "She's too nice a girl to +quarrel with." + +Now, for the first time since her arrival on deck, she took note of the +fact that the _Sunshine_ was moving; also, that their environment had +completely changed. + +"Why, we're sailing again, William!" + +"We're just out in the Sound a ways; I got tired of staying in one +place." + +The answer seemed to satisfy her immediate curiosity. Bill wished that +she would go away, so that he might drown himself in peace, but Aunt +Caroline appeared to be taking an interest in things. + +"I don't think they keep the yacht quite as tidy as they might," she +remarked. "There's a chair lying on its back. The magazines are blowing +all over the deck, too. There ought to be paper-weights. Dear me, +William; they need a housekeeper." + +Suddenly she walked across the deck and bent over to study a dark object +that lay near the opposite rail. + +"More untidiness," said Aunt Caroline resentfully. "One of the sailors +has left a wash-rag here." + +She stooped and picked the thing up between thumb and forefinger. As she +shook it out drops of water flew from it. Aunt Caroline's eyes became +round with amazement. + +"Why, William! It's the skirt of her bathing-suit!" + +Bill stared at the thing, fascinated. + +"How on earth did it ever come to be lying here on the deck?" exclaimed +Aunt Caroline. + +"She must have taken it off," he mumbled. + +"And came on board without it? William, she is not that kind of a girl." + +What was the use of hiding things any longer? Bill looked Aunt Caroline +in the eye. + +"She didn't come on board," he said. + +It required several seconds for that to sink in. + +"Not on board?" she repeated. "Why, what do you mean? Where is she?" + +He waved his hand in the direction of Larchmont Harbor. + +"Having a swim, I guess," he said, with an effort at nonchalance. + +"William Marshall! You mean to say she didn't come back to the yacht?" + +"She hadn't at the time we left." + +"Or Peter?" + +"Nope. Peter didn't come back, either." + +"Then what in the world is this boat doing out here?" demanded Aunt +Caroline. + +"It got tired of waiting." + +"You don't mean to tell me that you left them back there in the water?" + +"That's about it." + +Aunt Caroline was puffing out. + +"Why, William! Are you insane? To leave that girl back there with +nothing----" She looked down at the little wet skirt and shuddered. "Oh, +I can't believe it!" + +"Well, it's true, all right," said Bill sullenly. "They didn't seem in +any hurry to come back, and I didn't think it was up to me to wait all +day." + +"It's unheard of. It's shocking! Why, she isn't dressed to go anywhere. +She isn't even properly dressed for--for bathing." Aunt Caroline for an +instant was trying to put herself in the place of any fish who might +chance to swim in the vicinity of Mary Wayne. "William Marshall, there +ought to be some terrible way to punish you!" + +Bill thought a way had been discovered; he had been punishing himself +for the last two hours. + +"You turn this yacht right around and go back to Larchmont and find +them," she commanded. + +In one respect, Bill found a slight measure of relief in his aunt's view +of the situation. Evidently it did not occur to her that Mary and Pete +might be drowned, and if such a possibility had not occurred to her very +likely it was extremely remote. + +"What's the sense of going back now?" he asked. "It'll be dark in half +an hour." + +"Nevertheless, you turn this boat around." + +"Oh, they're all right by this time," he said carelessly. + +"Well, if they are, it's not because of anything you've done, William +Marshall." Aunt Caroline's eyes were beginning to blaze. "You've done +your best to disgrace the girl. Oh, that poor child! I don't approve of +her taking off her skirt, understand me; I never could bring myself to +that. I never did it myself, when I was a young woman, and I wouldn't do +it now. But that doesn't excuse you. It simply makes it worse that you +should have gone away and left her. You did quarrel with her, of course; +I can understand, now. You let that childish temper of yours govern you. +Oh, that I should ever have had such a nephew. I'm ashamed of you!" + +Bill felt that he was on the verge of disinheritance, but Aunt Caroline +abruptly changed her line of thought. + +"Thank goodness she's in charge of a responsible person!" she exclaimed. + +"Who? My valet?" + +"Certainly. If it were not for that I should be dreadfully frightened. +But he'll take care of her, of course. He's just the kind of young man +she ought to be with in such an awful predicament. If she were my own +daughter I wouldn't ask anything better, under the circumstances." + +Bill sneered elaborately. + +"He's so absolutely safe," declared Aunt Caroline. "He has such fine, +high principles." + +"Oh, bunk, Aunt Caroline." + +"William, don't you try to disparage that young man. I only wish you had +his pure ideals. That's what makes me feel safe about Miss Norcross. +He's so sound, and religious, and upright. Why, his very character is +sufficient to save the girl's reputation." + +Bill was growing restive under the panegyric. + +"Her reputation doesn't need any saving," he declared. + +"Not with you or me; no. That's perfectly understood. But with the +world--that is different. The world will never understand. That is, it +would not understand if her companion were anybody but Peter. But when +it is known that it was he who guarded her and watched over her----" + +"Aunt Caroline, lay off." + +She stopped in sheer amazement and stared at her nephew. Bill was in a +mood to throw caution to the winds. + +"I'll agree with you she's safe enough," he said, "but for the love of +Mike cut out that bull about Pete. He hasn't got any more principles +than I have. I'm sick and tired of hearing you singing psalms about +him." + +Aunt Caroline gasped. + +"Why, confound him, he hasn't any more religion than a fish. He never +studied theology in his life." + +"William, I don't believe a word you say." + +"You might as well," said Bill scornfully. "Why, Aunt Caroline, he +doesn't know any more about theology than you do about dancing the +shimmy." + +"But he talked to Bishop Wrangell----" + +"Oh, he talked, all right. He's a bird at that. But it was just words, I +tell you, words. He got it all out of the encyclopedia home. He's been +stringing you--you and the bishop. That's just where he lives--stringing +people." + +"I--don't--believe--it!" But there was a trace of alarm in Aunt +Caroline's voice, despite her brave insistence. + +"Oh, all right; don't. But if you'd ever known that wild aborigine in +college you wouldn't swallow that theology stuff, hook, line and +sinker." + +"It simply cannot be true, William Marshall." + +Bill laughed recklessly. + +"Why, if you'd ever seen Pete Stearns----" + +"Peter who?" + +"Stearns." + +Aunt Caroline was sniffing, as though she scented danger. + +"What Stearns?" she demanded. + +"Oh, you know 'em, all right, Aunt Caroline." + +She seized Bill by the arm and backed him against the rail. + +"Of the Eliphalet Stearns family?" she demanded. + +"That's the bunch," affirmed Bill, wickedly. + +She put her hand to her throat and retreated a pace, staring at Bill +through horrified eyes. + +"You stand there and tell me he is a Stearns?" she whispered. "And you +say it without shame, William Marshall? You have brought a Stearns to my +house, when you knew---- Oh, William!" + +"As a matter of fact," said Bill with sudden generosity, "Pete's all +right in his own way, but he's no divinity student. As for his being a +Stearns----" + +Aunt Caroline stopped him with a gesture. + +"Answer my question," she said sharply. "Is he a grandson of Eliphalet +Stearns?" + +"Uh huh." + +"A son of Grosvenor Stearns?" + +"That's Pete." + +She seemed to grow suddenly in stature. + +"Then," she said, "you have disgraced the house of Marshall. You have +brought under my roof, in disguise, the son of an enemy. A Stearns! You +have done this thing with the deliberate purpose of deceiving me. Had I +known, had I even suspected, that you had ever associated with such a +person, I should have disowned you, William Marshall." + +"But his name is Pete, all right, Aunt Caroline. And you never asked me +for his last name." + +"You would have lied if I had," she said, in a voice that trembled +despite its sternness. "You did all this knowing full well my opinion of +the Stearns family. Eliphalet Stearns! He was your grandfather's worst +enemy. Grosvenor Stearns! Your father and Grosvenor Stearns never spoke +to each other from the days when they were boys. And now--now it remains +for you to bring into my house another generation of a people who are +beneath the notice or the contempt of a true Marshall. It is +unspeakable!" + +And yet she found herself able to speak with much freedom on the matter. + +"Oh, what's the use of all this medieval history?" demanded Bill. "Just +because my grandfather and old man Stearns had a blow-up, I don't see +why I've got to go on hating the family for the rest of my days. That +old row isn't any of my funeral, Aunt Caroline." + +"Have you no regard for your family honor and pride, William Marshall? +Have you no loyalty to the memory of your ancestors? Have you no thought +of me? Must you insult the living as well as the dead?" + +"I should think," grumbled Bill, "that if you believed in theology you'd +go in for that business of forgiving your enemies." + +"But not a Stearns," she said vehemently. "And as for believing in +theology--oh, how can I believe in anything after this?" + +"Well, if you hadn't gone so daffy over him I wouldn't have said +anything about it." + +"Daffy?" echoed Aunt Caroline. "Are you insinuating----" + +"You've been throwing him up to me as a model of holy innocence ever +since he came into the house," said Bill angrily. "Just now you've been +preaching about how safe she was with Pete, and all that sort of +poppycock. I tell you, I'm sick of it, Aunt Caroline." + +Aunt Caroline suddenly remembered. She groaned. + +"Oh, that poor girl! Heaven knows what will become of her now. Out +there----" She gestured wildly. "With a Stearns!" + +"Oh, he'll do as well by her as any sanctimonious guy." + +"The child's reputation is gone! Gone!" + +"That's nonsense," said Bill sharply. "If it comes to that, she can take +care of herself." + +"No girl can take care of herself, William Marshall. No proper girl +would think of attempting it." Aunt Caroline bridled afresh at the very +suggestion of feminine independence. "This is the end of the poor child. +And you are responsible." + +"Oh, piffle." + +"A Stearns!" murmured Aunt Caroline. + +"Bunk!" + +"A _Stearns_!" + +"But suppose he was really trying to live down the family name and lead +a better life?" suggested Bill. + +"Not a Stearns, William Marshall. There are some things in this world +that cannot be done. Oh, that unfortunate girl!" + +Bill sighed irritably. + +"All right; we'll go back and hunt her up," he said. He was, in fact, +rather pleased to have an excuse. + +"And see to it that she is properly married to him," added Aunt +Caroline. + +Bill looked like a man about to choke. + +"What!" he shouted. + +"Certainly," said his aunt. "He's a Stearns, I know; but what else is +there to do? Even a bad name is better than none." + +"Aunt Caroline, you're crazy!" + +"I was never more sane in my life. William. The poor child _must_ marry +him. I'm sorry, of course; but it is better than not marrying him at +all." + +"Marry Pete Stearns?" Bill resembled a large and ferocious animal, +perhaps a lion. "_Marry_ him? Not in a million years will she marry +him!" + +Aunt Caroline studied her nephew in astonishment. + +"Would you deny her the poor consolation of a name?" she demanded. "Of +course she will marry him. I shall personally attend to it." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Bill savagely. "You'll keep out of +it." + +"Order the boat back to Larchmont at once," was Aunt Caroline's answer. + +"Not for that purpose." + +"To Larchmont!" + +Had she been taller, Aunt Caroline at that moment would have been +imperious. She gestured with a sweep of the arm worthy of a queen. The +gesture, it happened, was not in the direction of Larchmont at all, but +she did not know that. + +Bill shook his head grimly. + +"William Marshall, I propose to be obeyed." + +Ordinarily, when Aunt Caroline reached that point, Bill yielded the +field to her. But this was no ordinary occasion. She proposed to marry +her social secretary to Pete Stearns--_his_ secretary! Where was ever +such an outrageous idea conceived? Again he shook his head. He could +find no words to voice his scornful defiance. + +Suddenly Aunt Caroline wilted into a deck chair. + +"I wish to go to my stateroom," she said, in a weak voice. "I feel +faint. Send for my maid." + +Bill departed on a run. The maid brought smelling salts, and after a +minute of sniffing Aunt Caroline arose and walked slowly toward the +saloon entrance, through which she disappeared. She ignored Bill's offer +of an arm. + +The boss of the yacht _Sunshine_, having satisfied his lust for +defiance, ran forward and mounted the bridge two steps at a time. + +"Back to Larchmont!" he commanded. + +He was still standing on the bridge as they entered the harbor. By the +time they were well inside, darkness had fallen. + +"Are we to anchor, sir?" inquired the sailing master. + +"I don't know," said Bill shortly. "Take a turn up where we were moored +a while ago." + +But before they had proceeded very far up the harbor he realized the +futility of it. No sane persons would be swimming about after dark +looking for a yacht whose return was purely conjectural. + +"Head her outside again," ordered Bill. + +The sailing master shrugged, gave a command, and the _Sunshine_ began +swinging in a circle. + +"After we get outside, sir, which way?" + +"I don't know. I haven't decided. I'll tell you later. Damn it, don't +ask so many questions." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE LAST BOTTLE IN LARCHMONT + + +When Pete Stearns went in quest of a limousine he had, of course, merely +employed a figure of speech that seemed to befit the raiment of his fair +charge. In his practical mind he knew that it did not matter whether it +was a limousine or a lizzie, so long as it was capable of locomotion and +was not locked. The grounds through which he now walked were less +familiar to him than those which contained the orchard on the other side +of the hedge, yet he sensed the general direction of the house that he +knew they must contain. + +Through the darkening shadows he wended his way confidently; he felt +sure that if there was danger ahead he would detect it before falling a +victim. At last he emerged from the grove and stepped upon a lawn, where +he paused for reconnaissance. Fifty yards from him stood a house. It was +large and dark and quiet. For two or three minutes he observed it +carefully, but detected no sign of life. There was no other building to +be seen; if there was a garage it was probably on the farther side of +the house. He was more interested in discovering a garage than anything +else. + +He walked rapidly across the lawn, intending to pass in what seemed to +be the rear of the dwelling. The path he chose carried him near to the +end of a broad porch, from which half a dozen steps descended to the +lawn. Close to the edge of the top step his watchful eyes observed an +object that caused him to slacken pace, then stop. It was a hat. + +"I need a hat," thought Pete. + +His bare feet were soundless on the steps as he ascended lightly and +captured the object of his desire. It was a straw hat with a striped +ribbon and by good chance it was an excellent fit. + +"I ought to get her a hat," he murmured. "She'll expect it." + +It seemed quite safe to explore the porch a bit further, so he moved +softly along, avoiding a hammock, a table and several chairs. He was +midway the length of the house when he became aware that there was a +light within. Its mellow glow reached him through a curtained window. +Pete held his breath as he came to a halt, and decided that his next +move would be a retreat. + +And then he found himself bathed in a flood of illumination that came +from directly overhead. Some one within the house had switched on the +porch-light! + +"Run!" he whispered to himself. + +Too late! In front of him a French window was slowly opening. Pete +stared at it hypnotically. Wider and wider it swung as he stood there +inert, as incapable of flight as though his bare feet were nailed to the +porch floor. + +And then from out the window stepped a stout gentleman of middle age +whose face wore an innocuous and cordial smile. He did not seem to be +smiling at anything in particular, but rather at the whole world. +Evidently it had been warm in the house, for he was coatless and +collarless and his shirt was unbuttoned at the throat. Hugged against +his bosom with one hand was a bottle in which there was no cork. +Swinging loosely in the other hand was a carbonated water siphon. + +The stout gentleman's glance rested upon Pete with the utmost +friendliness. His smile ceased to be a generalization and became a +greeting. He bowed. He winked slowly and ponderously. The winking +achievement pleased him so well that he repeated it, and afterward tried +it with the other eye, where he again succeeded to his still greater +satisfaction. + +"Prince," said the stout gentleman, "have a drink." + +Pete indulged in a deep sigh of relief. + +"Sir," he said, returning the bow, "your hospitality charms me. I don't +mind if I do." + +"Hold 'em," said the gentleman, proffering the bottle and the siphon. +"Have a chair, prince. Back in a minute." + +He turned and disappeared through the French window. There was a barely +perceptible unsteadiness in his gait, but it did not interfere with his +efficiency, for he returned within a few seconds, bearing two glasses. +Pete and the gentleman drank to each other punctiliously, the latter +waving his glass with a grandiose flourish before he put it to his lips. + +"Lil private stock, prince," and the gentleman winked again, this time +with the original eye. + +"Nectar, sir, if you will permit me to say so," affirmed Pete, with +another bow. "But I regret to say that you have made a slight mistake. I +am not a prince." + +The gentleman smiled knowingly and made a gesture of deprecation. + +"'Sall right, old man. My mistake. Liable to run into princes any time +round here. Had prince callin' on my daughter 'safternoon. Just as soon +have prince round as anybody. I'm liberal. Have li'l drink?" + +Pete declined regretfully. His host placed bottle and siphon on a table +with meticulous care. + +"Listen, prince." + +Pete checked him with an upraised hand. + +"Merely a viscount, sir." + +"Listen, viscount. Play a li'l cowboy pool?" + +Pete considered. Clearly it would be inconsiderate to treat so +benevolent a host in a churlish manner; yet there was a lady all in +lace, sitting in a gloomy summer-house among the trees, who doubtless +awaited his return with impatience and perhaps alarm. + +"I fear, sir," he said, "it would be an intrusion upon your family." + +The stout gentleman shook his head earnestly. + +"Nobody home, viscount. No family; no servants. Everybody gone away +somewhere. Everybody on a party. I'm on party; you're on party. You and +me play li'l cowboy pool." + +So saying, he linked his arm affectionately into one of Pete's and led +him firmly into the house. He led him through several rooms, pausing in +each to press buttons, so that the apartments through which they +strolled became ablaze with lights. No ordinary summer cottage was this, +Pete learned, as his eyes appraised each successive revelation; it was a +mansion. + +"Family all in society, viscount," confided the stout gentleman, as he +clung to Pete's arm. "All hittin' high spots. Wife, society; daughter, +society; son, society. Old man, cowboy pool. C'mon." + +While Pete Stearns was conscious of his own informalities of costume, it +seemed that his host had not given the matter a thought. The purple and +green coat of silk did not appear to have attracted his attention, nor +the other garment, that was striped in salmon pink. If the stout +gentleman owned the straw hat that Pete had discovered on the porch, he +displayed no sign of recognition. He was, in fact, surprised at nothing +whatever. + +In the billiard room the shaded lights that were suspended over the +table did not satisfy him, for he made a complete circuit of the +apartment, turning on all the lights in the wall sockets. + +"'Smore cheerful," he explained. "Find a cue, prince." + +"Viscount, sir." + +"My mistake, viscount. Find a cue." + +Pete found a cue that suited as to weight. His host bowed until he +rocked on his heels and assigned him the honor of opening the game. + +For some fifteen minutes they played in silence, the stout gentleman +revealing a measure of skill and technique that quite astonished his +antagonist. His difficulties seemed to be wholly in measuring angles +with the eye; otherwise his game was well nigh faultless and his control +of the cue masterly. It was the eye difficulty that eventually compassed +his defeat, although Pete was hard put, even with the employment of all +his own skill, to nose out a winner. + +With the shot that settled the game the stout gentleman flung his cue on +the table and embraced his conqueror. + +"Viscount," he said, "you're a prince. Firs' man beat me cowboy pool all +summer." + +"It was but an accident, sir," said Pete modestly. + +"Nope. No accident. Strictly on merits. 'Sall right; pleasure all mine. +Firs' time ever stacked up against gentleman from Arabian Nights." + +From which remark Pete perceived that his host had not been wholly +insensible of his costume, although it was evident that he was in no +whit surprised by it, nor did he regard it as in any way incongruous. + +"I think, sir, if you will pardon me, that I should be taking my leave," +observed Pete, as his eye chanced upon a tall clock that stood in a +corner. + +"What's hurry, prince? Have li'l drink." + +But Pete, even under the warm pressure of hospitality, had not forgotten +the lady in the summer-house. He felt certain that she was becoming +alarmed; he feared that she might even attempt an exploration on her own +account. + +"Viscount," observed the lord of the manor, once more linking arms, +"you're greates' cowboy pool player in world. Extraord'nary! I'm next +greates'. Any gentleman beats me welcome anything I got." + +They had progressed as far as the library, where his host halted. + +"Anything I got," he repeated, with a wave of his arm. "'Sall yours. +Anything you see--'s yours. What'll it be?" + +It occurred to Pete that so generous an invitation to trespass further +upon hospitality should not be ignored. + +"If you could loan me a pair of shoes," he suggested, "I would be +greatly indebted to you." + +"Dozen pair shoes!" said the stout gentleman earnestly. + +"And a hat--a lady's hat." + +"Lady's hat? Lady's----" + +His host looked him in the eye, placed a finger alongside his nose and +winked roguishly. + +"Lady's hat--for princess?" + +"For the viscountess, sir." + +"Dozen hats!" exclaimed his host warmly. "Dozen hats for viscountess. +Back in a minute." + +He rushed up-stairs at an alarming speed and Pete heard him charging +around on the floor above. The gentleman had an unaccountable way of +keeping his word almost to the letter. It was little more than a minute +before he was back again, his arms full of hats and shoes. He dumped +them all on the floor and bowed. + +"All yours, prince." + +Pete was not long in finding a pair of shoes that would stay on his +feet, but the selection of a hat from among the fragile heap was a task +that perplexed him. His difficulty was not ignored by his host, for the +stout gentleman suddenly reached into the pile, yanked forth something +that was broad brimmed and lacy and thrust it into his hands. + +"There's hat for princess!" he exclaimed. "My compliments. Have a li'l +drink?" + +He hugged Pete's arm delightedly as he led the way back to the porch. +The bottle and the siphon inspired him to confidences. + +"Viscount, observe bottle, please. Listen. Last bottle Scotch in +Larchmont." + +He lifted the bottle and stroked it gently. + +"Last bottle anything in Larchmont," he added. + +Pete viewed the bottle with a new and reverent light in his eyes. + +"Sir," he said, "knowledge of that fact overwhelms me with the true +measure of your hospitality." + +"'Sall right, prince, old man. 'Sall yours. Take bottle." + +But there were some things that even Pete Stearns could not bring +himself to do. He sighed and shook his head. To what unknown heights of +generosity might this genial gentleman arise--this gentleman who would +even renounce the last bottle in Larchmont? + +"Have li'l drink, anyhow." + +And it was a very small drink that Pete poured for himself, for he had +discovered that within him lay a conscience. + +"Where's princess?" demanded his host abruptly. + +Pete answered with an indefinite wave of the hand. + +"She awaits me," he said. + +The stout gentleman winked again, knowingly, and thrust an elbow into +the ribs of his guest. He was clinging to Pete's arm. Pete hesitated. He +wanted something more; in fact, he had not yet obtained that for which +he had gone in search. Yet why hesitate? Surely a gentleman who offered +his last bottle would not quibble over an automobile. + +"Do you happen, sir, to have a car that I could borrow for a short +time?" + +"Car? Le's see." His host thought for several seconds. "Nope, all cars +out with family. All cars out in society. All cars----" + +He paused, then smiled broadly yet mysteriously. + +"Sh! This way, prince." + +Although there was nobody in the house, the owner thereof tiptoed his +way carefully along the porch toward the rear, with a constant beckoning +and a warning for caution. He created in Pete the impression that they +were now upon an errand of distinctly clandestine character and must +manage the affair accordingly. + +Down the steps to the lawn and around the corner of the house they went, +in single file. The stout gentleman paused near a small porch that +evidently constituted an entrance to the kitchen. He looked around +cautiously in the semidarkness. Bidding Pete to remain exactly where he +stood, he stole across to the side of the porch with catlike steps, +fumbled there for a moment, and returned, trundling a vehicle. + +It was a motor-cycle, and attached to it was one of those peregrinating +bath-tubs known as a side car. + +"Sh! Last car in Larchmont, viscount. Belongs to gardener. 'Sall yours." + +In the dim light Pete examined it hastily. He mounted the saddle and +threw the switch. He pumped the starting pedal. At the third thrust +there was a sharp explosion, and then a rapid fire that cut the night. +He let the engine race for half a minute, then throttled down and leaned +over toward his benefactor. + +"Sir," he said, "you are the noblest of men. You do not know just what +you have done, but it is a service far beyond price." + +"Viscount," answered his host, with a deep bow, "pleasure's all mine. +Any gentleman beats me cowboy pool--any gentleman honors me cowboy +pool--any gentleman from Arabian Nights----" A thought occurred to him. +"Want you to meet family. Stay and meet family. Stay and meet society. +Stay----" + +Pete interrupted him hastily. + +"At any other time, sir, I should be charmed. But, as I told you, there +is a lady awaiting me." + +"Forgot lady. My apologies. Forgot all about lady. My apologies to +lady." + +"And so I bid you good night, sir. And may Heaven reward you," said Pete +fervently. + +The stout gentleman clung to his hand. + +"Want to see princess," he observed. "Want to salute princess. Want to +extend hospitality----" + +"If you will go up on your porch," said Pete, "I will drive the princess +by. She will be charmed to see you, sir, and in her behalf I now thank +you for all your goodness." + +He threw in the clutch and the motor-cycle started forward with a leap. +Straight across the lawn Pete headed it, bringing it to a halt at the +edge of the grove. Leaving the engine running, he leaped from the saddle +and ran in among the trees, in the direction of the summer-house. + +Mary Wayne was standing in the doorway as he approached. + +"Where--where have you been?" she demanded. + +"I'll explain later," he answered briefly. "Hurry. I've got a car." + +"You stole----" + +"It was presented to me. Come on." + +He seized her hand and urged her forward at a run. + +As they reached the panting machine, Mary uttered an exclamation of +dismay. + +"That thing!" + +"What do you want for nothing. Get in. It's all right." + +"But it's so conspic----" + +He lifted her and dumped her into the bathtub. + +"That thing down at your feet is a hat," he said. "Put it on. Now, +there's a gentleman waiting to wave good-by at us. He's the most +important man in the world. He thinks you're a princess. As we go past, +I want you to kiss your hand to him. It's highly necessary. He expects +it." + +The motor-cycle was under way again. Pete guided it in a wide curve +until he was headed toward the house. Then he dashed with full speed, +straight for the illuminated veranda. + +Standing at the edge of the porch was the stout gentleman, his body +gently swaying. His arms seemed to be engaged in an incantation, for +they waved rhythmically. In one hand was the bottle. + +Pete swerved the machine within a few feet of the porch and waved +elaborately. The gentleman was saying something, but they could not hear +him. Mary waved her hand as they swept by. + +"Throw him a kiss!" ordered Pete sharply. "Confound it, you're a +princess! Wait, now; I'll make a circle and go by again." + +The machine curved out across the lawn and Pete laid a course that would +once more enable them to pass in review. The gentleman on the porch +continued his incantation. He was chanting, too. + +As they slowed down opposite him, Mary half rose from her seat and threw +him a kiss. The waving arms halted abruptly. The stout gentleman's eyes +became round with pleasure. He gripped the rail and leaned forward. + +"Princess----" + +He made a courtly gesture and a treasured object flew from the gesturing +hand. There was a crash of glass on the gravel walk below. The gentleman +blinked, lurched forward, swung back and sat heavily on the floor of the +porch. He leaned his forehead against the rail and burst into manly +tears. + +Pete gave his chariot a full charge of gas. + +"The last bottle in Larchmont!" he gasped chokingly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE ROAD TO HOME + + +The motor-cycle was behaving excellently. As Pete began to get the feel +of his steed he experimented a bit with the throttle, twisting the hand +grip that controlled it farther and farther, until the machine responded +with a burst of speed that alarmed the lady in the bathtub. She clung to +the edges of the car and shut her eyes against the wind, bracing her +feet with the instinctive effort of trying to apply brakes. + +Pete knew only in a general way the direction of the main road, which he +was seeking. When they emerged from the private grounds of the gentleman +who owned the last bottle, he turned the car in what seemed to be the +proper course and raced along a road that was bordered with villas. It +ended at a cross-road, where he was forced to make a change of +direction. Then, for the next five minutes, he was alternately covering +short stretches of straightaway and turning corners. The residential +section devoted to summer dwellers seemed to Pete to have been provided +with streets that were designed on the plan of a labyrinth. It baffled +escape. + +They passed people on walks and cars in the roadways, passed them at a +nervous speed. Mary Wayne was huddled as low in the bathtub as she could +squeeze herself, but Pete was astride a saddle in the open, and he had +an annoying sense of conspicuity. He doubted if the ordinary citizen of +Larchmont would accept his pink-striped pajamas with the complete +equanimity that had characterized his late host. The silk garments +wrapped themselves tightly around his shins, but streamed out in the +rear like pennants in a gale. The rush of air sculptured his high-priced +haberdashery until he resembled the Winged Victory of Samothrace. + +Mary reached both hands to her head with a little cry, but too late. The +picture hat had been snatched by a gust and went sailing into a hedge. + +"Can't stop!" he yelled. "Mine went long ago." + +She shook her head to signify that she did not want him to stop. + +Still the labyrinth held them. One of its trick passages brought them +into a cul de sac, where he was forced to slow down and turn in his +tracks. A man on the sidewalk shouted at him, but Pete did not answer. +Mary huddled closer in her refuge. + +They turned another corner and came to a dead stop, with a screeching of +brakes, in order to avoid collision with a touring-car approaching in +the opposite direction. The touring-car also stopped. Its driver uttered +an exclamation, and an instant afterward switched on a spotlight. Mary +shrieked as the merciless beam fell upon her. Somebody in the car +tittered. + +"When did they turn the club dance into a masquerade?" asked a voice. + +"Ages ago," answered Pete promptly. "Swing your car; you're on the wrong +side of the road." + +There was more laughter; the spotlight still held its victims. + +"He looks like the Sultan of Sulu," commented the voice behind the +spotlight. + +"Running away with Marie Antoinette," said a second voice. + +And then, in a sharp, feminine treble: + +"Jack, look at that thing on her shoulders! Why, it's just exactly like +my----" + +Mary hid her face and shuddered. Pete slipped in the clutch and made a +reckless detour that came within an ace of landing the side-car in a +ditch. They shot away again with an echo of excited voices in their +ears. + +"We've got to get out of here quick!" shouted Pete. "I think they've got +our number." + +Mary knew it to a certainty. No woman who owned the piece of lingerie +that graced her shoulders would ever fail to recognize it. + +"Try the road to the left," she urged, as she looked back. "I think +they're turning the car around." + +He acted on the suggestion, for want of anything better, and shot into a +new road that possessed the grateful advantage of poorer illumination. +Fear of pursuit caused him to forsake it after a few hundred yards, and +after that he spent several minutes dodging into one street after +another, until he felt that the touring car must have abandoned pursuit. +Every time they passed a street light he accelerated speed, regardless +of all considerations save a resolve not to linger in the illuminated +places. + +Mary was grim. She had abandoned hope of ever escaping from the hated +town; she felt that she was the helpless prisoner of a nightmare, unable +to loose the invisible shackles. They would either be dashed to pieces +or fall afoul of the law, and between these alternatives she attempted +to make no choice; one was as unhappy as the other. Yet during all this +maddening and futile whirl she found a corner of her mind sufficiently +detached from imminent perils to give its entire attention to the hating +of Bill Marshall. He, and he alone, had done this thing, she told +herself over and over again. Oh, how she hated him! + +And then came sudden liberation from the labyrinth. They shot out of a +narrow lane upon what was unmistakably the main road, missed a +juggernaut limousine by inches, careened sickeningly as their machine +straightened out in the direction of the city, and then gathered speed +to put behind them forever the place of their undoing. + +"We're all clear, now," he called, bending his head toward her. "Making +out all right?" + +"Go on," was her only answer. + +There was but one goal in the mind of Pete Stearns--the Marshall mansion +in lower Fifth Avenue. It was of no avail to stop short of that; they +had no money, no friends, no spare wardrobe elsewhere. A return to +Larchmont was not for an instant to be considered. Probably the +_Sunshine_ was back in the harbor, looking for them. Well, let Bill +Marshall look--and then worry when he did not find them. The same +thought was in the mind of Mary Wayne; she prayed that Bill might now be +in a frenzy of fright and anxiety. + +In a general way, Pete knew the main road; if he had not, the volume of +traffic easily served as a guide. They passed anywhere from a dozen to +twenty cars every mile, and inasmuch as speed was their one available +refuge from curious eyes, Pete employed it. It would have been better +for peace of mind to make their way to the city by sequestered roads, +but he did not know all the byways and turnings of the Westchester +highway system, and there was the risk of getting lost in unfamiliar +paths. The labyrinth of Larchmont had been a sufficient lesson in that. + +The evening was warm, yet Pete found that two sets of silken pajamas +were none too much for comfort, for the motor-cycle created its own +little gale. Mary sat crouched in her lingerie, trying desperately to +keep everything in place, yet discovering every little while that a +homeward-bound pennant of filmy stuff was whipping the air half a dozen +feet behind her. + +New Rochelle flew past them in a blur of light. Pelham Manor came and +went in a flash. Mount Vernon was little more than a brief burst of +illumination. + +"Safety first," whispered Pete to himself. "That means speed." + +They were crossing the Harlem, still at a pace that was barred by +all law save the primitive one to which alone they held +allegiance--self-preservation. Riverside Drive! Should they risk it or +seek less traveled paths? + +"Stick to the Drive," urged the guiding spirit. + +Pete stuck to it. Better to come to grief boldly on the highway of +pleasure and fashion than to meet disaster ignominiously along some +furtive route. But even the desperate urge of speed could not be +completely satisfied now. There was the summer evening's traffic to be +considered, and often it slowed them to a maddeningly moderate pace. + +Mary was aware of the fact that they were not without observers. With +another driver she felt that her own costume would have escaped notice; +she was making herself as small as possible, wrapped tightly in her +raiment. But Pete Stearns, astride the saddle, flaunted himself. He +could not help it. The coat of purple and green shone in the city's +glare like the plumage of a peacock. As for the trousers striped in +salmon pink, they shrieked like a siren. + +People in cars stared and turned to stare again. People atop the buses +gesticulated and waved. People on the sidewalks halted in their tracks +and blinked. A million eyes, it seemed to Mary, were boring into her +from all sides. Oh, wait till she laid hands on Bill Marshall! + +Fifth Avenue! The traffic increased; the pace slackened perforce. Mary +gripped the edges of the car and closed her eyes. Why had they risked +it? Why hadn't she urged him to seek a hiding place until long past +midnight? Too late now. The machine came to a stop. She opened her eyes +long enough to photograph the awful picture on her mind. + +Fifth Avenue and Forty-Second Street--with the east and west traffic +holding the right of way! A bus towered above them on the curb side. A +millionaire touring-car flanked them on the left. Ahead were most of the +automobiles in the world; of that she was certain. She did not dare to +look behind. Her eyes were shut again, but her ears were open. She could +hear voices, laughter, a screeching of horns. Somebody flung a question; +a dozen followed. And Pete Stearns was flinging answers! Oh, why didn't +he keep still? + +The traffic moved again, and with it the little chariot that had become +their ark of preservation. Mary felt it bumping across the tracks on +Forty-Second Street. Somebody shouted; she knew without looking that it +was a policeman. There was a shrill whistle. The motor-cycle plunged +forward. + +"Hold fast!" yelled Pete, bending over. "That guy wants us, but he'll +have to step some. No more traffic stops for mine!" + +Just what they did after that Mary never knew. Nor was Pete himself +particularly clear. They lurched, swayed, dodged; they scraped mudguards +right and left; they shot behind, in front of, and around automobiles +that were stupidly content to keep within the law; they scattered +pedestrians; they ran past traffic semaphores that were set against +them; they mocked cross-town trolleys by dashing across their paths; and +all this to a constant din of shouting people and piercing police +whistles. + +The home of Miss Caroline Marshall stood on a corner, and the entrance +to the garden and stable yard in the rear was on the side street. As +Pete swerved from the avenue, Mary opened her eyes again and gasped +incredulously. They were home! + +He had leaped from the saddle, crossed the sidewalk, tried the tall, +iron gate that barred the driveway and was back again before she could +move her cramped body from the position into which she had twisted it. + +"Gate's locked!" he cried. "We haven't any keys. Got to climb the wall. +Hurry!" + +Saying which, he seized her by an arm and dragged her out of the little +bathtub. The brick wall that flanked the Marshall garden on the street +side stood about seven feet in height. Pete reached for the top, chinned +himself, and squirmed astride it. + +"Gimme your hands!" + +Mary lifted them, felt them seized, and found herself slowly rising +from the sidewalk. For Bill Marshall she would have been a feather; for +Pete Stearns she was a burden. He gritted his teeth and lifted until his +muscles cracked. Inch by inch he raised her. Mary tried to dig her toes +into the bricks, but they offered no foothold; all she accomplished was +to tangle her feet in the lingerie. Two people across the street stopped +to stare. Pete sighted them and gave another grim hoist. + +Then victory. She was sitting on top of the wall, swinging her feet on +the garden side, as he leaped down into a flower-bed and reached for +her. + +"Oh! The rose-bushes!" she cried, as he caught her and deposited her in +the flower-bed. + +"Damn the roses!" + +"But it's me! The thorns!" + +"Forget it." + +Some of her raiment was clinging to Aunt Caroline's treasured plants as +she stepped painfully out on the grass. + +"Now to get into the house," he said briskly. "We'll have to break in. +There isn't a soul home." + +"Thank goodness," murmured Mary. + +The house was dark, but never had Mary seen it when it looked so +friendly and sheltering. The nightmare was over. They were really home! + +Pete ran to the kitchen entrance. Locked, and undoubtedly the stout bar +on the inside was also in place. It was not worth while to try the +window-catches, for even if he were able to raise a sash there were +stout steel bars through which they could not pass. He went to the +cellar entrance, turned the knob in the door, and threw his weight +against it. Nothing budged. + +He stepped back on the lawn and made a survey of the rear elevation of +the house. All of the windows that lacked bars were beyond his reach or +that of any ordinary climber. If he could find a ladder---- He ran back +to the stable, but discovered it to be as stoutly resistant to intrusion +as the house itself. + +Mary beckoned to him. + +"I should think you could climb up on the wall," she said, pointing, +"right where it joins the house, and then make a jump for that nearest +window." + +Pete looked at her severely. + +"Do you think I'm a trapeze performer? Do you want me to break a leg?" + +Mary measured the jump with her eye. + +"Mr. Marshall could do it," she said. + +"Rot!" + +"But he could. And he'd be willing to try, too." + +Pete's glance had turned into a glare. + +"There's gratitude for you! That's a fine thing to throw up in my face. +Just because I'm not an overgrown brute you think it's a lot of fun to +stand there making dares." + +"If you think I'm having any fun," she said sharply, "you're +tremendously wrong. I'm all stiff and scratched up from those +rose-thorns--and I'm hungry. And thirsty! And Mr. Marshall may be +large--but he is not an overgrown brute." + +"Oh, that's it, is it? You're singing another tune. The last time you +mentioned him it was in connection with murder, I think." + +"Never mind. He could get in that window, just the same." + +Pete eyed her for an instant, then walked toward the garden wall. + +"Wait till I'm lying crushed at your feet," he said bitterly. "You're +driving me to suicide." + +"Pooh!" said Mary. + +He climbed the wall and tested his reach in the direction of the window. +The sill was at least a foot beyond the tips of his fingers. + +"Jump for it," she said from below. "It looks easy." + +"Does it?" he said scornfully. "You ought to see it from here." + +"I can see it perfectly well. I could do it myself." + +Pete Stearns marveled. Why had she turned on him thus? Had he not been +playing the hero since mid-afternoon? Had he not brought her out of the +jaws of Larchmont and into the sanctuary of Aunt Caroline's back yard? +And now she taunted him, mocked him, dared him to take a senseless +hazard. + +"Are you going to stand on that wall all night?" she demanded. +"Everybody in the street can see you." + +He turned and faced the window desperately. He stepped back a pace and +viewed it again. He considered the relative advantages of a standing or +a running jump and decided upon the former. He crouched. He straightened +and again measured the distance with his eye. + +"Well?" asked the pitiless voice from below. + +"Oh, give me a chance to figure it out," he retorted. "Stop staring at +me. You make me nervous." + +So Mary looked away. She even walked away. Her steps carried her to an +asphalt driveway, where she paused, staring down at a metal disk that +lay directly in front of her. It was about two feet in diameter, and +fitted closely into an iron rim that was embedded in the pavement. She +recognized the thing instantly. It was the cover of the coal hole. Aunt +Caroline had objected to coal wagons unloading at her curb; and being +the possessor of a back yard, into which wagons could be driven, she had +built a chute from that point directly into the bins. Mary remembered +that she had seen ton after ton of coal poured down that very hole. + +She turned and glanced toward the adventurer on the wall. He was still +staring up at the window, now crouching, now standing erect, now +advancing, now retreating, but never leaping. With an exclamation of +disdain, she stooped and laid hold of the cover of the coal chute. + +As she tugged at the handle it moved. She applied both hands to the +task. The disk came out of its rim and she dragged it clear of the +aperture. She glanced downward into the depths. She might as well have +closed her eyes, for the darkness within that coal chute was total. It +was spooky. Yet her common sense told her that there was nothing spooky +about it; it was merely a coal chute that sloped at an easy angle into a +cellar bin. + +She looked again to see what progress Pete had made; she could not +observe that he had made any. He was still standing on top of the wall, +making calculations and having visions of a little white cot in an +emergency ward. + +"He's afraid," she said. "I'm not!" + +But she was, despite the brave boast--she was dreadfully afraid. Yet +fear did not prevent her from sitting down and letting her feet dangle +into the hole. Of course, she could summon Pete Stearns and bid him +plunge into the Stygian shaft. But she scorned that; she was minded to +show him what a little woman could do. + +He was still fiddling on top of the wall when she glanced up. + +"Oh, don't bother," she called. "If you're so afraid----" + +"I'm not. I'm just taking precautions. If you'll leave me alone a +minute----" + +"I'm tired of waiting. You don't seem to be able to make up what you +call your mind." + +"If you'd stop talking to me----" + +He turned to glare down at her. + +Zip! + +She was gone. He blinked rapidly and stared again. What---- How---- He +rubbed his eyes. Only an instant before she was there; she was sitting +in the middle of the driveway. Her white figure had been perfectly +distinct; there could not be a possible doubt about it. And then the +earth swallowed her! + +Hastily he scrambled down from the top of the wall and ran across the +yard. The open coal chute yawned at his feet. He stooped and listened. +There was no sound. He called into the depths. There was no answer. + +"The son of a gun!" he muttered in an awed whisper. + +He was still standing there, dully contemplating the hole in the earth, +when a flicker of light caused him to lift his head. She was in the +kitchen. He heard the lifting of the bar and the turning of the key in +the lock, followed by a rattle of bolts. As he approached the door it +opened. + +Mary Wayne looked as weird as the witch of Endor. Her white robes were +streaked with black. Her face was smeared with coal dust; her hands, her +hair. Out of a sooty countenance gleamed two dangerous gray eyes. + +"You coward!" she said. "See what you've done!" + +"But if you'd waited----" + +"You've just made me ruin the loveliest things I ever wore in all my +life. Look at this peignoir. It's ripped, it's torn, it's---- Oh, don't +stand there! I'll slam the door in a second, and then you can stay out +or else come in by way of the coal bin." + +Pete entered meekly and closed the door behind him. Single file they +mounted the back stairs that led to the servants' quarters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +HOME + + +Pete Stearns, dressed once more like a citizen of the United States, +descended again to the lower floor by the back stairs and began a search +of the pantry. He foraged some crackers, a jar of cheese, and some +potted tongue, and with these he returned to the second floor, where he +found the social secretary awaiting him in the sun parlor. Mary Wayne +was a normal person again. The soot of the coal chute had disappeared, +as well as the fragile vestments; she had not taken her entire wardrobe +aboard the yacht. + +Pete was still grumbling over her treatment of him. It was ungenerous, +unfair, he contended; she was coldly ignoring all his prowess of the +afternoon and evening and dwelling only upon a single incident in which +he felt entirely justified in exercising reasonable precaution. + +"I'd have gone down the coal chute myself if you'd only waited a +minute," he said. "You didn't give me a fair chance." + +"I notice you didn't follow me," she answered contemptuously. "You +waited for me to find my way out of the cellar and open the kitchen +door." + +"Well, what was the use----" + +"Please open that can of tongue. Do you want me to die of hunger?" + +He shrugged gloomily and attacked the can. Mary picked up the telephone +instrument and called for a number. Presently she was talking. + +"Send Miss Norcross to the telephone." + +Pete repressed a start and worked steadily with the can-opener. But his +ears were alert. As for Mary, she appeared to have forgotten his +presence. + +"Oh, Nell; is that you? This is Mary talking. No; I'm not in Larchmont. +I'm _home_. Oh, yes; we were there. But something awful happened. I want +you to come around here right away. I've just got to talk to you; I need +your advice. What? No; I can't tell you about it over the 'phone; it +would take too long. Please hurry; it's important. I--I want your moral +support. I'm afraid the beginning of the end is here, and you just can't +desert me now. You've _got_ to come. All right. Take a taxi, if you can +find one. But hurry, anyhow." + +As she replaced the receiver Pete Stearns was facing her. And then she +remembered. A slow flush came into her cheeks. + +"I've been guessing for a long time that there was something queer about +you," he observed, with a cynical smile. "So it's 'Miss Norcross' at the +other end of the wire, is it? And who are you?" + +"You had no business to listen to a conversation," she said angrily. + +"Strikes me it was stupid of you to forget I was here, Miss +Norcross--Wayne--or whoever you are." + +He eyed her maliciously. + +"So it's the beginning of the end, is it? Well, let me in on it." + +Mary returned her glance defiantly. + +"I have nothing to say to _you_," she said. "It isn't any of your +business." + +"But, of course, you don't deny you're an impostor?" + +"Well, if it comes to being an impostor, Mr. Valet, I don't believe +you'll stand very much investigating." + +Pete regarded her calmly. + +"Let's form an alliance," he suggested. + +"An alliance of what? Fraud?" + +"Something like that. I see you confess it." + +"I confess nothing," she retorted hotly. "And I don't care for an +alliance." + +"It might pay," he said, thoughtfully. "If we keep up the teamwork I +believe we can get by yet. Between my ingenuity and your references----" + +"Stop!" + +Mary was shuddering at the allusion to references. Not only the thing +itself, but the very word, had become hateful. + +"Don't talk to me," she ordered. "I won't discuss anything with you." + +Pete shrugged and pushed a plate of crackers and cheese toward her. + +"Let's talk about your friend, anyhow," he suggested. + +Mary rose to her feet abruptly and ran toward the door that opened into +the hall. She opened it half-way and stood there, listening. Then she +turned and beckoned mysteriously. When he had joined her she whispered: + +"I thought I heard something--down-stairs. Listen." + +For half a minute neither spoke. + +"Sounds like somebody talking," he said, in a low voice. "But it seems +far away. Maybe it's out in the street." + +She shook her head. + +"I'm positive it's in this house. It's down-stairs. There! Hear it?" + +He nodded. + +"Maybe Aunt Caroline and the rest of 'em have come home again," he +suggested. + +"No; it's a man's voice, but it's a strange one. It's--burglars!" + +"It might be, of course," he assented. + +"Let's telephone for the police. Hurry!" + +"No. Let's investigate first. We can telephone afterward." + +He stepped softly out into the hall and started toward the front of the +house. Mary seized his arm. + +"Isn't there a pistol--or something--that we could take?" she whispered, +nervously. + +"Don't believe there's a gun in the house. Bill doesn't own one--except +a shotgun." + +"Get it." + +He tiptoed toward Bill's room and reappeared with a double-barreled +weapon, the mere sight of which gave Mary a thrill of reassurance. It +was unloaded, but Pete did not disclose that fact. + +In single file, with Pete leading, they moved cautiously along the hall +in the direction of the main staircase. At the top of the flight they +paused. There was a light burning in the lower hall. Mary pinched him +and pointed at it. + +"I'm going back to telephone the police," she said. + +"Not yet. Wait!" + +He started gingerly down the staircase, the shotgun thrust boldly +forward in order not to betray its utter unpreparedness. Mary +hesitated, but when he had descended half a dozen steps she followed, +curiosity overwhelming her. + +They heard the voice again, more clearly now: + +"Understand, now; no noise. If we make a racket we'll have the bulls +here. The first man makes a noise gets what's comin' to him." + +Pete and the girl exchanged glances. + +"A whole gang of them!" she said, in a frightened whisper. + +Pete placed his finger against his lips and descended half a dozen steps +more. She crept along behind him, clinging to the banisters. + +The Marshall mansion was of old-fashioned construction. Over many of the +doors there were transoms. This was true of the door that separated the +library from the lower hall. As the pair of adventurers halted again and +leaned stealthily over the railing they could see that there was a light +in the library. The door was closed, but the transom stood open nearly +to its full width. + +Through the transom they could view a rectangular section of the library +floor. Ordinarily, from where they stood, a table would have been +visible, a chair or two, and a rug. But now table, chairs and rug had +vanished and there was nothing but smooth parquetry. + +"They're packing up the things!" gasped Mary. + +Pete answered with a gesture imposing caution. + +As they watched the open space in the library a man stepped into view. +He came to a halt and, from where he stood, was visible to them from the +waist up. He did not look exactly like a burglar; he was too well +dressed to fit Mary's notion of the fraternity. He was too stout, also, +for Mary's idea of a burglar called for a lean and hungry Cassius. As he +paused in the center of the library, he made a commanding motion with +his arms. It was a sign for silence on the part of persons who were +invisible to the watchers on the staircase. + +Then he began to speak again. + +"Now, what I said about keepin' your lips buttoned goes. Get me? I'm +runnin' this and I don't want to have any trouble. There ain't goin' to +be any yellin' or stampin' or any other kind of noise, except what can't +be helped. Everybody understand that, now?" + +There was a murmur from an unseen throng, and evidently an assent, for +the speaker nodded. + +"And I want everybody to be careful not to break nothin'," he continued. +"You don't want to break no chairs or tables or nothin' like that. And +be careful of them pictures on the walls." + +"Why, they're going to take every single thing!" murmured Mary, in a +shocked voice. + +"S-sh. Wait!" answered Pete, staring wide-eyed at the man whose body was +framed in the transom. + +"All right, then," the man was saying. "Only don't forget. The gentleman +who give us the use of this house is a friend of ours and we don't want +to get him into no trouble." + +"Aw, we're wise; we're wise," remarked a voice whose owner they could +not see. "Start somethin'." + +Mary was clutching Pete's arm and staring at him with widely questioning +eyes. The gentleman who gave the use of the house! Why---- + +"Now, the winner of this bout, gents----" The beefy man was talking +again. "The winner of this bout is goin' to be matched against the +champion. Everything here is strictly on its merits. The men will wear +six-ounce gloves, accordin' to regulations. Both of 'em was weighed in +this afternoon at three o'clock, with the scale set at one hundred and +thirty-five, and neither of 'em tipped the beam. And the bout goes to a +finish." + +There was a rumbling chorus of satisfaction from the invisible audience, +and the speaker checked it sharply. + +"Lay off the noise, now. That's just what we ain't goin' to have. You +guys paid your good money to get in here and I guess you don't want +trouble any more'n I do. Now, in this corner is Charley Collins, the +Trenton Bearcat, lightweight champion of New Jersey." + +As he spoke another person stepped into the field of vision. It was +unquestionably the Bearcat. He was a blond-haired youth of sturdy +proportions, clad in a breech clout, a pair of shoes and two six-ounce +gloves. He nodded carelessly in response to the introduction and began +testing the floor with his feet. + +"In this corner," continued the stout man, "is Kid Whaley, pride of the +East Side." + +Whereat came briskly into view Signor Antonio Valentino. He was grinning +cheerfully and bowing right and left. There was a suppressed murmur of +admiration. Whatever his omissions as a sculptor of Carrara marble, the +Kid had neglected nothing that would make his own body a living statue +of grace and brawn. Save for the twisted nose and the tin ear, he was an +undeniably fine specimen. His attire matched that of the Bearcat. + +"Now, when I say 'Break,'" remarked the master of ceremonies, addressing +himself to the Kid and the Bearcat, "I want you to break. Understand! +Hittin' with one arm free goes, but no rough stuff in the clinches. And +when you break, break clean and step back. No hittin' in the breakaways. +All set?" + +The two young gentlemen in breech clouts nodded nonchalantly. + +"Go to your corners." + +The Kid and the Bearcat stepped out of sight, and likewise the beefy +man. + +"It's--it's awful!" stammered Mary Wayne to her companion on the +staircase. "Make them stop it!" + +Pete viewed her with a look of amazement. + +"Stop it?" he echoed, incredulously. "What for? Why, this is a bout +they've been trying to pull off for the last two months. Stop it? Why, +we're lucky to be in on it!" + +There was nothing but horror in Mary's eyes. + +"Then I'll get the police to stop it!" she hissed. "I'm going to +telephone now." + +"And get Bill Marshall into all kinds of trouble?" + +She hesitated. Doubtless it would make a great deal of trouble for Bill +Marshall, not only with the authorities of the law, but with Aunt +Caroline. He deserved the worst, of course, and yet---- Ever since the +middle of that afternoon she had felt that the administering of justice +to Bill was something that lay properly in her own hands. If she had +cared to analyze the matter closely she would have found that it was not +justice she sought so much as vengeance. + +And while she still hesitated at Pete's reminder, a bell sounded in the +library. + +She looked again toward the open transom. The Kid and the Bearcat were +in view again, no longer nonchalantly inert, but in animated action. +Their bodies were tense and swaying, their arms moving in a bewildering +series of feints, their feet weaving in and out in a strange series of +steps that seemed to have an important relation to their task. The +Bearcat was grim, the Kid smiling contentedly. + +Suddenly the blond one shot an arm forward and behind it lunged his +body. Mary clutched the banister. But Signor Antonio Valentino, still +smiling, merely flirted his head a few inches and the gloved fist went +into space across his shoulder. At the same time, he seemed to be doing +something himself. Mary could not, with all her inexperience, discern +exactly what it was, but she saw the Bearcat's head snap backward and +she heard him grunt audibly as he clinched. + +"The Kid'll eat him," whispered Pete. "Gee, I wish I had a bet down!" + +Mary shuddered. She decided to go up-stairs, but somehow she could not +release her grip on the banisters. She felt that she ought to go away +and hide from this horror in Aunt Caroline's library. Even if she could +not move, at least, she thought, she could close her eyes. But when she +tried to close them, somehow they persisted in staying open. + +The two young sculptors on the other side of the transom were now +entering upon their artistic task with amazing speed and zest. Sometimes +it took them entirely beyond the vision of the watchers on the +staircase. Then they would come zigzagging back into view again; first +their legs, then their bodies, then their flying arms and low-bent +heads. There was a constant smacking and thudding of gloves, a heavy +padding of feet on the parquet floor. Now and then Mary heard the sharp +voice of the beefy man: "Break! Break clean!" Once she saw him stride +roughly between the panting pair reckless of his own safety, fling them +apart with a sweep of his arms and say something in a savage tone to the +Bearcat. But no sooner had he passed between them than they met again +behind his back; the Bearcat swinging a glove that landed flush on the +celebrated tin ear. + +The bell rang again. Kid Whaley stopped an arm that was moving in mid +air, dropped it to his side and walked quickly away. The Bearcat also +walked out of sight. + +Mary felt as if she could breathe again. + +"Thank Heaven, it's over!" she said. + +Pete looked at her pityingly. + +"It's just begun," he explained patiently. "That was only the first +round. There may be a dozen or fifteen, or twenty, or Lord knows how +many yet before they finish it. It won't end till one of 'em goes to +sleep." + +"To sleep? How can any man fall asleep when somebody is pounding him all +over the head and body?" + +"Wait and see," answered Pete with a grin. + +But Mary was not minded to wait and see. All that filled her mind was +resentment and horror that Aunt Caroline's library should have been +loaned by her unredeemed nephew for such an awful purpose. She had a new +account to square with William Marshall. She did not intend to tell Aunt +Caroline; she would spare that shock to her benefactress. She phrased a +little silent prayer of thanks because Aunt Caroline was safely removed +from the scene of blood and violence. But there would be no softening +of the blow when she came to deal with Bill. + +"I'm going down to stop it," she said suddenly. + +Pete seized her arm and held it. + +"You can't think of it!" he said, in a shocked whisper. "You'd only be +insulted and laughed at. And besides----" + +He was about to remark that it was too excellent to stop when the bell +rang for the second round. + +To Mary it seemed no different from the first round. The two young men +in breech clouts alternately flailed and hugged each other, the referee +constantly danced between them crying, "Break!" and the stamping of +swiftly shifting feet echoed again through the darkened recesses of the +big house. Then another bell and another period of waiting. + +"This Bearcat is good," explained Pete, carefully. "He's better than I +figured him. The Kid'll get him, but it may take him some time. Do you +notice the way the Kid handles that left? Isn't it beautiful?" + +"It's--it's horrible." + +"Oh, not at all; it's clever. This other boy has a pretty neat left +himself. But it's his right that the Kid's watching, and he'd better, +for it's wicked. Only trouble with the Bearcat is he telegraphs every +punch. Now, when they come up again I want you to notice---- S-sh! +There's the bell." + +Mary, still gripping the banister, gazed with horrid fascination at the +further desecration of Aunt Caroline's black walnut library. And yet, +while the spectacle outraged her eyes and violated all the standards by +which she measured domestic life in the American home, a subconscious +partisanship was breeding within her. She hated this Whaley, almost as +much as she hated Bill Marshall. Why didn't the blond bruiser +annihilate him forthwith? Why didn't he make an end of the thing at +once? Why wasn't Kid Whaley beaten ruthlessly to the floor and stamped +under foot, as became his deserts? + +She lifted her hand from the banister and clenched her fists. She was +not aware that the cave woman was awakening within her, but it was. She +thought she was still horrified; and so she was--in the civilized part +of her. But Mary Wayne did not possess a hundred per cent of +civilization, nor do any of her sisters, although she and they may be +ignorant of the lesser fraction of savagery that hides within. + +The third round was followed by a fourth, a fifth and a sixth, and still +she stood on the stairway, with a conscience that cried aloud in behalf +of Aunt Caroline and a surge of primitive rage that demanded victory for +the Trenton Bearcat. Pete Stearns was wholly given over to the spell of +the battle. + +Came the seventh round, more furious than any that went before. The +invisible crowd in the library was becoming vocal. Throaty voices were +demanding blood. And blood there was, for the Bearcat's crimson nose +paid tribute to the efficiency of the Kid, while over one of the Kid's +eyes was a cut that witnessed the counter prowess of the Bearcat. Some +of the blood was dripping on Aunt Caroline's parquet floor, but not +enough for the crowd. + +Round eight. The Kid sent two lefts to the face without return. They +clinched. The Kid uppercut to the jaw in the breakaway. The Bearcat +swung right and left to the head. The Kid landed a right to the body, +and followed it with a hook to the jaw. The Bearcat came back with a +volley of short-arm jabs, rocking the Kid's head. The Kid rushed, +sending right and left to the face. They clinched. The Kid swung a left +to the jaw. It shook the Bearcat. The Kid---- + +Mary Wayne, following all this with blazing eyes and panting bosom, +wholly free to sense the combat in its larger aspects because she knew +nothing of its superb technique, was leaning half-way across the +banisters, a battle-cry hovering on her lips, when her quick ear caught +the sound of a key turning in a lock. It had the effect of a cold shock. +She was the civilized woman again. + +Fear and apprehension turned her eyes in the direction of the front +door. Yes, it was opening. Police? _No!_ + +Aunt Caroline Marshall, Bill Marshall, the butler, and a file of the +Marshall servants! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +AUNT CAROLINE--REFEREE + + +As Bill stepped into the hall he glanced in dull surprise at the single +light that was burning there. And soon he became aware of a din in the +library. For an instant his bewilderment increased. Then came sickening +comprehension. The Kid was pulling it off to-night. He had changed the +date. Why? And why, again, had fate summoned Aunt Caroline to the feast? +Bill put a hand against the wall to steady himself. He turned fearful +eyes toward his aunt. + +She was already in action. On occasion she was a brisk lady, despite her +years; she was not timorous. Something she did not understand was taking +place in her house. She proposed to look into the matter herself. Before +Bill could clutch her arm she darted along the hall and flung open the +door of the library. + +She never really appreciated the beauty of what she saw. Like Mary +Wayne, she was untutored in its scientific nicety and its poetic +movement. She merely sensed that it was red carnage, titanic, horrific. +Just what happened is most easily described by referring to the official +version of the eighth round, which was uncompleted in the last chapter. + +The Kid rushed again, landing left and right to the head. The Bearcat +wobbled. The Kid stepped back, measured his man, and sent a right to the +body. The Bearcat's hands dropped to his side. The Kid drove a terrific +blow to the jaw, and the Bearcat crashed over on his back, completely +out. + +The official version does not say that when the Bearcat prostrated +himself in dreamless slumber he did so with his head lying at the feet +of Aunt Caroline, who drew aside her skirts with housewifely instinct +and stared down at his battered, yet peaceful countenance. The Bearcat +never slept more soundly in his life; so profound was his oblivion that +Aunt Caroline, in her inexperience, thought he was dead. + +She looked up and saw a stout man waving an arm up and down and +counting. She saw Signor Antonio Valentino, poised and panting, waiting +in vain for the Bearcat to rise again. Beyond she saw, through a haze of +smoke, the faces of strange men. None of these persons whom she saw as +yet appeared to be aware of her own presence, or that of Bill Marshall, +who was now staring over her shoulder. They were all too utterly +absorbed in the slumberous bliss of this young man from Trenton. + +"Ten!" said the stout man triumphantly, as though it were an achievement +to count as high as ten. + +Then he seized Kid Whaley's right arm and held it high in air. There was +a hoarse roar of joy from the crowd. Two young men whose bodies from the +waist up were clad in sleeveless jerseys rushed forward and hugged the +Kid deliriously. They upset a bucket of water in their agitation, and it +flowed across the parquetry, to mingle with the powdered rosin. Two +other young men, similarly attired, sprang into the picture, seized the +Trenton Bearcat by the heels and dragged him into an open space, where +they could more readily lay hands upon him. + +And then everybody at once--except, of course, the Bearcat--seemed to +observe Aunt Caroline Marshall, standing in the doorway. They froze and +watched. Slowly she raised a finger until it pointed at the breast of +the Kid. + +"Murderer!" she cried. + +The Kid blinked in amazement. + +"Murderer!" + +The stout man who had counted so excellently shook himself and spoke. + +"There ain't nobody been murdered, ma'am. Everythin's all right. He +won't be asleep more'n a coupla minutes." + +Aunt Caroline turned upon him in a blaze. + +"Who are you? Who are all these men? What have you been doing? How do +you come to be in my house?" + +She surveyed her library--the wet and rosined floor, the rugs heaped in +a corner, the chairs piled against the wall, the tables with men +standing on their polished tops. Was it really her house? Yes; it must +be. There was no mistaking that portrait of her grandfather, still +looking down from its accustomed place on the wall. + +She centered her gaze once more upon Signor Valentino, advancing as she +did so. The signor backed away, plainly nervous. + +"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "How dare you break into my +house?" + +The Bearcat had been propped up in a chair, and his seconds were +squirting water over him, employing a large sponge for the purpose. He +had not yet responded to the reveille. There was an uneasy stir among +the crowd. The men were trying to unfasten a window. + +Aunt Caroline was still advancing when Mary Wayne pushed Bill Marshall +aside and darted into the room. + +"Come away! Please!" she cried, seizing Aunt Caroline's arm. + +The mistress of the Marshall mansion turned a dazed glance upon the +social secretary, uttered a little shriek of recognition and embraced +her. + +"Oh, my dear child! You're safe!" + +"Of course. Please come up-stairs." + +Suddenly Aunt Caroline stiffened and thrust her away. + +"What do _you_ know about this?" she demanded. + +"Nothing--absolutely nothing. Oh, _please_ come away. You mustn't stay +here." + +"I am entitled to remain in my own library," said Aunt Caroline, in +stern tones. "And I propose to stay here until I discover exactly what +this means." + +And as she stood in the middle of the cleared space, she looked far more +like a conqueror than Kid Whaley. + +Bill Marshall, who had been standing in an awed trance at the doorway, +abruptly came to life. He leaped forward with a yell. Aunt Caroline, the +Kid, the Bearcat, the seconds, the crowd--all had vanished from his +vision. He saw nobody but the social secretary. Her he gathered into his +arms, lifted clear of the floor and hugged violently to his breast. + +"Oh, girl," he muttered. "Oh, girl, but I'm glad to see you." + +Mary gasped. She struggled. She tried to push herself free. But Bill +was oblivious to all but his honest joy. + +"Oh, girl!" he murmured, over and over again. + +The crowd, which had been moving restlessly, became immobile again. It +forgot even Aunt Caroline. + +Mary Wayne writhed frantically in the grip that held her. Her feet, +inches clear of the floor, beat the air impotently. She worked an arm +free and tried to strike, inspired, perhaps, by a memory of the battle; +but a series of futile slaps was all that resulted. She stormed at him; +she tried to slay him with her eyes. But Bill Marshall only smiled +happily, bent his head and kissed her on the freckles. + +"Oh, girl!" + +At last he set her free, placing her gently on her feet and gazing at +her with an intensity of admiration that ought to have made any woman +proud. But Mary was in a cyclonic state of rage and consternation. She +swung an open hand against his ear with a crack that resembled a +pistol-shot, and fled ignominiously from the room. Bill looked after +her, nodding his head proudly and grinning wide. + +"Oh, girl!" he whispered. + +Aunt Caroline tapped him sharply on the arm. + +"William, do _you_ know what this means?" + +Bill rallied from his ecstasy and began to scratch his chin. He neither +knew how to approach nor to evade explanation. Kid Whaley went +generously to the rescue. He had draped a bath-robe over his shoulders, +and now accosted Aunt Caroline with the assurance of a gentleman who +regards himself fittingly garbed for an occasion. + +"It's like this," said the Kid. "We got t' have a place t' pull off this +mill, see? So Bill says th' fam'ly's goin' off yachtin', an' we c'n +come over here, where it's all quiet an' no bulls t' horn in, an' go as +far as we like. He gives me th' keys an'----" + +Aunt Caroline halted him with a peremptory hand, and turned to Bill. + +"William Marshall, is this true?" + +Bill drew a deep breath and managed to look her in the eye. + +"Yes, Aunt Caroline." + +"You gave this creature permission to conduct a prize-fight in _my_ +house?" + +"I'm afraid I did." + +"And then you brought me home to be a witness----" + +Kid Whaley interrupted her. + +"Nothin' like that," he said. "Bill didn't know we was pullin' it off +t'-night. It wasn't comin' till next week. Only I got trained down kinda +fine, see? I was li'ble to go stale. So th' Bearcat, he don't mind, an' +we touches it off t'-night. Y' wouldn't expect a guy t' wait till he +gets stale, would y'? I ain't makin' myself a set-up f'r nobody." + +Aunt Caroline eyed Kid Whaley from head to foot. + +"You have never been a sculptor, of course," she said in a bitter tone. +"I might have known better. Of course, I placed confidence in my nephew. +I shall take care never to do so again. You are nothing but a low +prize-fighter, it appears." + +The Kid was beginning to glower. There is a dignity that attaches to +every profession, and those who rise high should always endeavor to +maintain it. + +"I'm a pr'fessional athalete," said the Kid, wrapping his robe about +him. "There ain't nothin' low about me. I'm goin' t' fight th' +champeen." + +Aunt Caroline studied him with narrowing eyes. + +"Bill, y' oughta been here," continued the Kid, turning to his patron. +"Y' oughta seen th' mill. Take it from me, this Bearcat is good. He +gimme a run. I got nothin' against him f'r it. Knocked him stiff in +eight rounds, Bill. Say, if I'd had th' champ in here t'-night I'd 'a' +done th' same thing. Bill, I'm gettin' better every time I put on th' +gloves. Six months from now I'm gonna be champeen, Bill. Get me! +_Champeen!_" + +The Kid expanded his chest under his frowsy toga and glanced +condescendingly at Aunt Caroline. It was time she acquired a proper +perspective concerning his exact status, he thought. + +"Out of my house!" she said sharply. "Out of my house--everybody!" + +There was a sudden movement of the crowd, a slacking of tension. Men +started crowding through the door into the hall. The Trenton Bearcat, +groggy as to head and legs, went with them, supported on either side by +his seconds. The stout man who had been general manager, announcer and +referee, seized his coat and elbowed his way toward freedom as though +seized with panic. A window had been opened and part of the crowd began +flowing out through that. + +Kid Whaley turned nonchalantly, sought a chair and began unlacing his +fighting-shoes. + +"Leave my house--at once!" commanded Aunt Caroline. + +He glanced up with a confident grin. + +"Y' don't think I'm goin' out th' way I am?" he inquired. "I got +chucked outa this house once; I'm goin' when I get ready now." + +Aunt Caroline turned to her nephew. + +"William, I want this person out of the house--immediately." + +"Beat it, Kid," said Bill tersely. + +Kid Whaley regarded his patron with faint surprise. + +"What's th' idea?" he asked. "Y' gimme th' run o' th' place. Y' gimme +th' keys. Now y' want t' gimme th' bum's rush." + +Bill Marshall was suddenly sick of the whole affair. He had no pride in +his exploit. He was even acquiring a dislike for Antonio Valentino. And +all this revulsion was quite apart from his fear of consequences at the +hands of Aunt Caroline. He wanted to be rid of the whole business; he +wanted a chance to go up-stairs and explain things to Mary Wayne. + +"Beat it--the way you are," he ordered. "Go on, Kid." + +Kid Whaley twisted his lip into a sneer. + +"Gettin' cold feet, eh? That's th' way with all you rich guys. Puttin' +on th' heavy stuff. Oh, well; I guess I got nothin' t' worry about. I'll +be champeen in six months." + +"Move quick!" said Bill sharply. + +"What f'r? Just because th' old dame----" + +Bill reached forth, seized the Kid by an arm and brought him to his feet +with a single heave. He was beginning to get angry. + +"Get out of this house," he said, shaking him. "Do you understand me?" + +The Kid wrenched himself free and swung an upward blow that landed on +Bill's ear. + +"William!" cried Aunt Caroline. + +"Don't worry about me, Aunt Caroline," said Bill grimly. "Just leave the +room, please." + +"I shall not leave the room. I want you to----" + +"I'm going to." + +And he made a rush for Kid Whaley. + +Bill Marshall was a large young man. So far as the Kid was concerned, he +had every advantage that goes with weight. He was also something better +than a mere novice in the use of his hands. But he did not have the +skill of Antonio Valentino, nothing like it; nor his experience, nor his +generalship. He simply had a vast amount of determination, and he was +angry. + +He missed a good many blows, whereas the Kid seldom missed. But the more +often Bill missed the more resolved was he that Kid Whaley should leave +the house a chastened artist. One thing that encouraged him was the fact +that the Kid was not really hurting him. For several minutes they +utilized all the available floor space. + +Aunt Caroline had retreated to a corner, where she was standing on a +chair, her skirts gathered about her. Frightened? No. She was giving +Bill Marshall plenty of room. There was a battle-light in her eyes. And +Bill, busy as he was, began to hear her voice, coming to him as though +in a strange dream: + +"Will Marshall, don't you let that creature beat you! Do you hear that? +William! Look out! Don't you way. I expect you to thrash him, William +Marshall. I want him thrown out of this house. _Thrown_ out! Do you hear +that? William! Look out! Don't you see what he's trying to do? There! +Strike him again, William. Harder! Again, William; again!" + +Aunt Caroline was stepping around on the chair-seat in her agitation. +Her fists were clenched; her eyes blazing; her nostrils dilated. The +butler and the servants and Pete Stearns, who had crowded to the +doorway, looked at her in amazement. + +"Keep on, William; keep on! I want him punished. Do you understand? I +want him beaten! Harder, William! There! Like that--and that! Oh, dear; +I can't think---- Oh, what is it I want to say?" + +What dear old Aunt Caroline wanted to say was "Atta boy!" but she had +never learned how. She wanted to say it because matters were suddenly +going well with Bill. + +Kid Whaley, shifty as he was, had been unable to stem the tide of Bill's +rushing assault. A right caught him on the tin ear, and he went down. He +was on his feet in a flash. Another right caught him, and he went down +again. This time he lingered for a second or two. When he got up Bill +managed to land a left on the jaw. Down went the Kid. But he was game. +Once more he got to his feet. + +There was a shrill call from Aunt Caroline, who was now dancing on the +chair. + +"William, remember that you are a Marshall!" + +Bill remembered. + +The Kid went down. He got up. He went down. He got up. He went down--and +stayed. + +Bill Marshall stepped back and surveyed his work grimly. Two young men +in jerseys came slinking forth from a corner and moved toward the +prostrate warrior. Bill greeted the nearest with a critical inspection. + +"Are you one of his seconds?" he asked. + +"Uhuh." + +Bill calmly let fly a punch that knocked him over two chairs. + +He turned to the other youth. + +"Are you a second, too?" + +"No, sir," said the youth, hastily. + +"You're a liar," said Bill, and knocked him over three chairs. + +He stooped, lifted the quiet form of the Kid and tucked it under his +arm. As he made for the door the servants gave way to him. Through the +hall he marched solemnly, bearing the burden of his own making as though +it were merely a feather pillow. Through the front door, down the stone +steps and across the sidewalk he carried it. Pausing at the curb, he +dropped Signor Antonio Valentino into the gutter. + +As he reentered the house, his mood gravely thoughtful, two young men +who had waved towels for the conqueror of the Trenton Bearcat slid out a +side window and hurried around the corner to see what had become of +their hero. + +Bill encountered his aunt in the front hall. He regarded her doubtfully. + +"I am very sorry, Aunt Caroline," he said quietly, "that you had to see +this thing. I asked you to leave the library, if you remember." + +Aunt Caroline clasped her hands and looked up at him. + +"Why, William Marshall! It was perfectly splendid!" + +Bill scratched his ear and shook his head helplessly. + +"I give it up," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +WILLIAM DEVELOPS A WILL + + +Then he remembered something that had been on his mind all afternoon and +evening. He wanted to see Pete Stearns. Although he had not encountered +him, he took it for granted that Pete must be in the house, inasmuch as +his secretary was there. + +"Where's Pete Stearns?" he demanded of the butler. + +"You mean your valet, sir?" + +"Yes." + +"He was here a moment ago, sir. Shall I look for him?" + +"Tell him I'm going to lick him. No; wait. I'll look for him myself." + +With stern deliberation Bill made a search of the first floor, then went +up-stairs and began on the second. In his rooms he discovered the man he +wanted. + +"Put up your hands," said Bill quietly. "I'm going to lick you." + +"Why, Bill!" + +Pete was never more profoundly astonished. + +"Hurry up," said Bill. + +"Haven't you licked three men already? What in blazes do you want to +lick me for?" demanded Pete. + +"For running away with my girl." + +"But I didn't do anything of the kind. Instead of running away with her +I brought her home, Bill. You don't understand." + +"You bet I don't. Ready?" + +"No, I'm not ready." And Pete sat on the couch, crossed his legs and +clasped his hands around one knee. He knew that Bill Marshall would not +open hostilities against a defenseless opponent. But he knew also that +in order to avert ultimate castigation he must make an excellent +explanation. He decided to tell the exact truth. + +"Stand up and be a man," ordered Bill. "We're going to settle things +right now." + +Pete shook his head firmly. + +"Not on your life, Bill. I'm going to tell you a story first. After +that----" He shrugged. "Well, after that, if you decide to lick me, you +can do it. But if you ever do lick me, Bill Marshall, remember this: +I'll poison your coffee some day, if it takes me the rest of my natural +life. I'm not going to be a worm. Now, listen." + +While Pete was making his explanations up-stairs, Mary Wayne and Aunt +Caroline were below, viewing the wreck of the library. + +"Part of it was done by my nephew," remarked Aunt Caroline, as she +pointed toward several overturned chairs. + +Mary blushed at the mention of Aunt Caroline's nephew. Her humiliation +in the presence of a crowd of strange men still rankled deep. + +"It was awful of him," she said indignantly. + +"Not at all," said Aunt Caroline. "Not at all, my dear. But you were not +here when it happened, so you cannot be expected to understand. Do you +see those chairs? My nephew knocked two men clear across them." She +viewed the wreckage almost affectionately. "And before he did that he +thrashed a prize-fighter. Yes, my dear; thrashed him and carried him out +of the house. Right in my presence he thrashed three men." + +Mary Wayne opened her eyes wide. Was it possible she had never +discovered the real Aunt Caroline before? + +"He thrashed them completely," added Aunt Caroline, with a slight lift +of her head. "It was most thoroughly done. I do not believe anybody in +the world could have done it better than my nephew. He is very like his +father." + +Mary gasped. + +"My nephew is a true Marshall. I am very much pleased." + +"I--I'm so glad to hear it," said Mary faintly. + +"Yes, indeed, my dear. Why, do you know----" Aunt Caroline paused to +indicate the spot on the floor. "Right where you see me pointing he +struck this vulgar prize-fighter senseless. Oh, it is absolutely true. I +saw it all. I was standing on that chair over there. My nephew was +here." She indicated. "The other man was standing here. It happened +exactly as I am going to show you." + +And Aunt Caroline proceeded to enact in pantomime the events that led to +the downfall of Kid Whaley, reproducing as nearly as she could the exact +methods employed by her conquering nephew. Her cheeks were flushed and +her eyes bright when she had finished. Mary Wayne was overcome with +astonishment. + +"But--but the prize-fight that took place before?" faltered Mary. + +"That is another matter," said Aunt Caroline, with a wave of her hand. +"A minor matter, I think. Now, are you sure you understand exactly what +my nephew William did?" + +She was preparing to reenact the scene, when they were interrupted by a +ringing of the door-bell and a few seconds later by the arrival of Nell +Norcross in the library. Nell viewed the wreckage in one swift glance +and ran forward with a cry. + +"Mary Wayne, whatever in the world has happened?" + +Aunt Caroline glanced quickly from one girl to the other, then smiled. + +"You two young people are so excited over this thing that you are +getting your names mixed," she said. + +Nell clapped a hand to her mouth, consternation in her eyes. Mary +sighed, looked at Aunt Caroline and shook her head. + +"No; we haven't mixed our names," she said. "You may as well understand +all about it now, Miss Marshall. I'm--I'm an awful impostor." + +Aunt Caroline showed more evidence of perplexity than alarm. + +"This is Nell Norcross," said Mary, in a miserable voice. "I am Mary +Wayne." + +"Dear me!" said Aunt Caroline. "More things to be explained. Well, come +back into the sitting-room, both of you. I suppose somebody has been +making a fool of me again. But whoever you are, my dear, don't let me +forget to tell your friend about my nephew William." + +She led the way to the sitting-room. Mary and Nell exchanged glances as +they followed. Aunt Caroline was bewildering. + +When they returned to the library half an hour later Bill and Pete +Stearns were standing there, the latter rendering a vivid narrative of +the great battle between Kid Whaley and the Trenton Bearcat. Aunt +Caroline walked directly over to the valet. + +"I understand you are a Stearns," she said. + +Pete made an acknowledgment. + +"A grandson of Eliphalet Stearns?" + +"Yes, madam." + +"Don't 'madam' me. You have done quite enough of that. A son of +Grosvenor Stearns?" + +"Yes, Aunt Caroline." + +She glowered at him for an instant, then her lips began to twitch. But +she rallied herself. + +"Your grandfather and your father were enemies of my house," she said. +"They were both very bad men. I still think so." + +Pete wore a pained look, but made no answer. + +"But I believe there is some hope for you. Not, however, in the field of +theology. In that connection, I will say that I expect you to make a +personal explanation to the bishop. I never can. My nephew's secretary +has been telling me something of what happened at Larchmont and also on +the way home from Larchmont. For a Stearns, I think you have done fairly +well." + +"Thank you--Aunt Caroline." + +Miss Marshall bit her lip. + +"I think you may omit that," she said, but not with the severity that +she intended to convey. "As I said, you did fully as well as could be +expected of a Stearns. For your deception of me I shall never forgive +you. That is understood. But I shall not let that stand in the way of +safeguarding the reputation of my nephew's secretary. It will be +necessary, of course, for you to marry her." + +Aunt Caroline was serious again. She meant what she said. She had +certain rooted ideas concerning proprieties and they had not been +dislodged by the events of a day given over to the shattering of ideals. + +Bill Marshall choked. Pete gaped. Nell Norcross went white at the lips +and turned away. + +"But," began Pete, "it seems to me----" + +Aunt Caroline raised her hand. + +"It is unfortunate, of course, that she must marry a Stearns. It is not +what I would have chosen for the girl. But there shall be no such thing +as gossip connected with any person in my household; I will not endure +it. You owe her the name of Stearns, poor as it is. I have not discussed +the matter with her, but I feel that she will see it as I do." + +Bill was watching Mary Wayne with horrified eyes. His knees grew +suddenly weak when he saw her nod. + +"I have no doubt it is the best thing to do," said Mary. + +As she said that she cast a swift glance at Bill Marshall, then bent her +head. Nell had crossed the room and was staring out of a window. She was +holding a handkerchief to her lips. Pete Stearns was plainly frightened. +He looked in the direction of Nell, then at Mary, then at Aunt Caroline, +and last of all at Bill. + +"There need be no immediate hurry about the wedding," observed Aunt +Caroline, "so long as the engagement is announced. I have no doubt the +bishop will be glad to perform the ceremony." Turning to Mary: "You can +attend to the announcement yourself, my dear." + +Mary slowly raised her eyes. Her glance met that of Pete Stearns. It +wandered to the figure of Nell, then back to Pete. And then--could he be +mistaken?--one of Mary's eyes slowly closed itself and opened again. + +"I'll make the announcement whenever you wish, Miss Marshall," said +Mary. + +"To-morrow," said Aunt Caroline. + +Bill Marshall emerged from his coma. + +"Not in a million years," he cried. + +Aunt Caroline lifted her eyebrows. + +"Not while I'm on earth." + +Nell Norcross, still standing by the window, half turned and glanced +toward the group. She was very pale. Pete Stearns was trying to catch +her eye, but she was looking only at Mary. + +"Why, William!" said Aunt Caroline. "I do not see how the matter +concerns you at all." + +"Nor I," said Bill's secretary, throwing him a defiant glance. + +"Well _I_ know how it concerns me," shouted Bill. "Before she marries +Pete Stearns there's going to be red, red murder! Understand?" + +"But, William, she has already said she is willing," said Aunt Caroline. + +"I don't care what she says. She doesn't know what she is talking about. +She's crazy. There isn't a chance in the world of her marrying Pete +Stearns. I'll not stand for it." + +Pete again intercepted Mary's glance. + +"If she is willing to marry me," remarked Pete, "I don't see where you +have any ground for objection." + +Bill swept him aside with an arm-thrust that sent him a dozen feet +across the room. + +"From now on I'm going to manage my own affairs," he announced grimly, +"and this is one of them. I'm tired of taking doses that somebody else +prescribes for me. I'm through running for society on the opposition +ticket. I'm going to do as I please." + +"William!" + +He glanced at Aunt Caroline, then shook a finger directly under her +nose. + +"See here, Aunt Caroline--I'm not going to let you marry her off to Pete +Stearns, and that settles it. There isn't going to be any argument about +it. She's going to marry _me_!" + +"Mercy!" exclaimed Aunt Caroline. "Why, my dear, is this true?" + +She turned to Mary Wayne, who met her with innocent eyes. + +"Of course it is not true," answered Mary. "I never thought of such a +thing." + +"Then you'd better begin thinking of it," warned Bill, "because that's +exactly what's going to happen. This is my affair and I'm managing it." + +Mary did not deem that it was a politic time to discuss compromises. She +had too long a score against Bill Marshall. Inwardly, she was having a +glorious time, but it would never do to let Bill know it. + +"Do you think that marrying me is _entirely_ your affair?" she demanded. + +"Absolutely." + +"That I have nothing to say about it?" + +"Nothing whatever," said Bill sternly. "Not a word." + +"Why, you----" + +For an instant Mary feared that she was really going to be angry. This +was more than she expected, even from Bill Marshall. + +"I won't be talked to in that manner!" she exclaimed, stamping a foot +"I--I'll marry Mr. Stearns." + +Bill sent a dangerous look in the direction of his valet. + +"If you want to see him killed, just you try it," he said. "We've had +enough nonsense about this thing. There's going to be no more argument." + +Even Mary could not but marvel at the change in Bill Marshall. He seemed +suddenly to have grown up. He was not talking with the braggadocio of +boyhood. Rather, he had become a man who was desperately resolved to +have his own way and would not scruple to get it. But her time had not +come yet. + +"I'll marry Mr. Stearns," she repeated perversely. + +"Aunt Caroline," said Bill quietly, "it's all settled. Miss Norcross and +I are to be married." + +There was an exchange of glances between Pete, Mary, Nell, and Aunt +Caroline. The latter smiled at her nephew. + +"Of course," she said, "if Miss _Norcross_ wishes to marry you, William, +that's different entirely. But this isn't Miss Norcross, you know; this +is Miss Wayne." + +And she laid a hand on Mary's arm. + +Bill devoted seconds to an effort at comprehension, but without avail. +He found four persons smiling at him. It was disconcerting. + +"Your name is not Norcross?" he demanded. + +Mary shook her head. + +"It's Wayne?" he faltered. + +"Mary Wayne." + +"But, how the----" + +He paused again to consider the astounding news. Somebody had been +playing tricks on him. They were laughing even now. Suddenly his jaw +set again. He transfixed Mary with steady eyes. + +"Well, leaving the name part of it aside for a minute, let me ask you +this: whose secretary are you?" + +"Yours," answered Mary. + +"No argument about that, is there?" + +"None at all. I always made it perfectly clear that I was your +secretary." + +"Good," said Bill. "I have a matter of business to be attended to in the +office. Come along, Miss Secretary." + +He picked her up, tucked her under one arm and walked out of the +library. Mary was too amazed even to struggle. + +Aunt Caroline stared after them and shook her head. + +"Do you know," she said, turning to Pete, "I have a notion that William +will have his way about this matter." + +"You're damned right he will, Aunt Caroline," said the theological +student. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +WITHOUT REFERENCES + + +The transaction of Bill Marshall's business required upward of half an +hour. When it came to driving a bargain, Mary Wayne admitted that he was +ruthless and inexorable. He rode rough-shod over opposition; he crushed +it. + +"You're worse than a trust," she said, wrinkling her nose at him. + +"I'm a monopoly," he admitted. "I've got the whole world." + +Mary sighed and began straightening his tie. + +"But you treated me so badly," she complained. + +"Because I loved you," he said, kissing her some more. "Do I have to +explain that all over again?" + +"Oh, well, Bill Marshall; if you object to explaining----" + +"Confound it! Did I say I objected? I _don't_ object." + +"Then let me see if you can explain it twice in the same way." + +So Bill explained all over again. The explanation may not have been in +identical words, but it amounted to the same thing. It rumpled Mary's +hair all over again and left her freckles swimming in a sea of pink. + +"Oh, Bill!" she whispered, hiding her face. + +When they came down from the skies and recognized the familiar details +of the office, Mary asked a question. + +"Bill, do you think Peter is really serious about Nell?" + +"Why?" + +"Because she is--terribly." + +"Well, then, if he isn't I'll break his neck." + +"That's dear of you, Bill; I want her to be happy." + +A moment afterward: + +"Bill?" + +"Yes?" + +"What do you think your aunt will say about--us?" + +"Let's find out." + +They discovered Aunt Caroline in her sitting-room. She glanced over the +top of her gold rims and marked her book with her finger. + +"Well, what now?" she demanded, but her tone was patient. "Have you +attended to your business affairs?" + +"Yes, Aunt Caroline," assented Bill. "I've decided to give up society." + +"William, I think possibly society has given up you. But I have no +complaint to make. I have been thinking it over, and it seems to me that +if you care to go into business----" + +Bill interrupted her. + +"Aunt Caroline, you're stealing our stuff. We've already decided that. I +am going into business. I don't know just what--but I'm going." + +"That can be decided later," said his aunt. "I'm very glad, William. I +think perhaps I made a mistake in attempting---- But we won't discuss +that any more." + +Mary Wayne was fidgeting. + +"I have also decided to abandon my interest in art," observed Bill. + +Aunt Caroline regarded him suspiciously. + +"William, be careful. Are you sure you are quite well?" + +Bill laughed. + +"Never better. Now, as to Pete Stearns----" + +Mary, who had been growing more and more restless, placed a hand over +his lips. Then she ran forward, dropped to her knees and buried her head +in Aunt Caroline's lap. + +"He's teasing us--both of us," she said in a muffled voice. "That isn't +what we came to say at all." + +Aunt Caroline stroked the small head. + +"And what is it you want to say?" she inquired. + +Mary looked up suddenly. + +"Will--will you let me marry Bill Marshall--Aunt Caroline?" + +The eyes behind the spectacles were smiling. + +"Just for calling me 'Aunt Caroline,'" she said, "I believe I will, my +dear." + +Mary hugged her. + +Presently she and Bill went to hunt for Pete Stearns and Nell, who were +reported to be in the conservatory. As they departed, Aunt Caroline +called: + +"If William requires you to give references, my dear, just come to me." + +Mary uttered a small shriek. + +"References! Oh, please! If anybody ever says 'references' to me again +I'll just die. Bill, you'll have to take me without any at all." + +Bill took her. + +Aunt Caroline readjusted her spectacles and opened her book. + +"There is only one thing that really upsets me," she said, half aloud. +"I shall never find out what they say about Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's elder +daughter." + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good References, by E. J. Rath + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42754 *** |