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diff --git a/42754-8.txt b/42754-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 938b09e..0000000 --- a/42754-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10953 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Good References, by E. J. Rath - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Good References - -Author: E. J. Rath - -Illustrator: Paul Stahr - -Release Date: May 20, 2013 [EBook #42754] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD REFERENCES *** - - - - -Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from -scanned images of public domain material from the Google -Print archive. - - - - - - - - - -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 laudę 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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD REFERENCES *** - -***** This file should be named 42754-8.txt or 42754-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/7/5/42754/ - -Produced by Annie McGuire. 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