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diff --git a/old/68334-h/68334-h.htm b/old/68334-h/68334-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 79b4eaf..0000000 --- a/old/68334-h/68334-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9438 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title> - Best laid schemes, by Meredith Nicholson—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.tiny {width: 10%; margin-left: 45%; margin-right: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.tdr {text-align: right;} - - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} - - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { - margin-left: 7.5%; - margin-right: 7.5%; -} - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - - -.xxlarge {font-size: 175%;} -.large {font-size: 125%;} - - -.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - - - -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .indent5 {text-indent: 4.5em;} -.poetry .verseright { text-align: right;} - - -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Best laid schemes, by Meredith Nicholson</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Best laid schemes</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Meredith Nicholson</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 17, 2022 [eBook #68334]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, the Research Assistants at UNC Chapel Hill, Wilson Collection for providing a high quality scan for the book's cover, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of public domain works put online by Harvard University Library's Open Collections Program.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST LAID SCHEMES ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1"><i>BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON</i></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">BEST LAID SCHEMES</div> -<div class="verse">THE MAN IN THE STREET</div> -<div class="verse">BLACKSHEEP! BLACKSHEEP!</div> -<div class="verse">LADY LARKSPUR</div> -<div class="verse">THE MADNESS OF MAY</div> -<div class="verse">THE VALLEY OF DEMOCRACY</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="ph1"><i>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</i></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>BEST LAID SCHEMES</h1> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p><span class="xxlarge">BEST LAID SCHEMES</span></p> - -<p>BY<br /> -<span class="large">MEREDITH NICHOLSON</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“<i>The best laid schemes o’ mice and men</i></div> -<div class="indent5"><i>Gang aft a-gley</i>”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verseright">—<span class="smcap">Robert Burns</span></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>NEW YORK<br /> -<span class="large">CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</span><br /> -1922</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1919, 1922, by</span><br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1912, 1913, 1914 by THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916 by P. F. COLLIER</span> & SON COMPANY<br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1921 by THE McCLURE PUBLICATIONS Inc.</span><br /> -<br /> -Printed in the United States of America<br /> -<br /> -Published April, 1922</p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_logo.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"> -TO<br /> -<br /> -<span class="large">WILL H. HAYS</span><br /> -<br /> -WHOSE FRIENDSHIP IS MORE TO BE PRIZED<br /> -THAN MUCH FINE GOLD</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table> - - -<tr><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Susiness of Susan</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3"> 3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Girl with the Red Feather</span>     </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34"> 34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Campbells are Coming</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74"> 74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Arabella’s House Party</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115"> 115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Third Man</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_167"> 167</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Wrong Number</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_197"> 197</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="ph2">BEST LAID SCHEMES</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak">THE SUSINESS OF SUSAN</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Susan Parker</span> was twenty-six and nothing had ever -happened. To speak more accurately, plenty of things -had happened, but Man had never happened. As a -college girl and afterward, Susie had, to be sure, known -many men; but they had all passed by on the other -side. A young man of literary ambitions had once -directed a sonnet at Susie, but she was not without -critical judgment and she knew it for a weak effort. -This young man afterward became the sporting editor -of a great newspaper, and but for Susie’s fastidiousness -in the matter of sonnets she might have shared his -prosperity and fame. A professor of theology had once -sent her a sermon on the strength of a chance meeting -at a tea; but this, though encouraging, was hardly -what might be called a thrilling incident. Still, the -young professor had later been called to an important -church, and a little more enthusiasm for sermons on -Susie’s part might have changed the current of her life.</p> - -<p>The brother of one of Susie’s Vassar classmates had -evinced a deep interest in Susie for a few months, -spending weekends at Poughkeepsie that might much -better have been devoted to working off his conditions -at New Haven; but the frail argosy of their young -affections had gone to smash with incredible ease and -swiftness over a careless assertion by Susie that, after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -all, Harvard was the greatest American university. -All universities looked alike to her, and she had really -been no more interested in Harvard than in the academic -centers of Wyoming or Oklahoma. Now this -young gentleman was launched successfully as a mining -engineer and had passed Susan by for another of -his sister’s classmates, who was not nearly so interesting -or amusing as Susie.</p> - -<p>Susie’s mother had died while she was in college, -and her father, in the year she was graduated. As he -had chosen a good name rather than great riches, -Susie had found it necessary to adjust herself to conditions, -which she did by taking the library course at -Witter Institute. In Syracuse, where Susan was born, -old friends of the family had said how fortunate it was -that her education made library work possible for her. -And, though this was true, Susie resented their tone -of condescension. In its various implications it dismissed -her from the world to which she had been -accustomed to another and very different sphere. It -meant that if she became an attendant in the Syracuse -Library she would assist at no more teas, and that -gradually she would be forgotten in the compilations -of lists of eligibles for such functions as illuminate the -social horizon of Syracuse.</p> - -<p>Whereupon, being a duly accredited librarian, entitled -to consideration as such wherever book warehouses -exist, Susan decided to try her luck in a strange -land, where hours from nine to six would be less heart-breaking -than in a town where every one would say -how brave Susie was, or how shameful it was that her -father had not at least kept up his life insurance.</p> - -<p>The archives of Denver, Omaha and Indianapolis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -beckoned. She chose Indianapolis as being nearer the -ocean.</p> - -<p>In her changes of status and habitat the thing that -hurt Susan most was the fact that the transition fixed -her, apparently for all time, among the Susans. She -had been named Susan for an aunt with money, but -the money had gone to foreign missions when Susie -was six. In college she had always been Susie to -those who did not call her Miss Parker. Her introduction -to the library in the Hoosier capital was, of -course, as Miss Parker; but she saw Miss Susan looming -darkly ahead of her. She visualized herself down -the gray vistas, preyed upon daily by harassed women -in search of easy catercorners to club papers, who -would ask at the counter for Miss Susan. And she -resented, with all the strength of her healthy young -soul, the thought of being Miss Susan.</p> - -<p>Just why Sue and Susie express various shades of -character and personal atmosphere not hinted in the -least by Susan pertains to the psychology of names, -and is not for this writing. Susie was a small human -package with a great deal of yellow hair, big blue eyes, -an absurdly small mouth and a determined little -nose. As a child and throughout her college years -she had been frolicsome and prankish. Her intimates -had rejected Sue as an inappropriate diminutive for -her. Sue and Susie are not interchangeable. Sue -may be applied to tall, dark girls; but no one can -imagine a Susie as tall or dark. In college the girls -had by unanimous consent called her Susie, with an -affectionate lingering upon the second syllable and a -prolongation of the “e.”</p> - -<p>To get exactly the right effect, one should first bite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -into a tart gooseberry. In her corridor at Vassar it -had been no uncommon thing to speak of her affectionately -as Susie the Goosie. Another term of endearment -she evoked was Susie the Syracuse Goosie, usually -when she was in disgrace with the powers.</p> - -<p>And Susie was the least bit spoiled. She had liked -these plays upon her name. Her sayings and doings -were much quoted and described in those good old -days before she became Miss Susan Parker on a public -library payroll. An admiring classmate had suggested -the writing of a book to be called the Susiness of Susie. -And Susie was funny—every one admitted that she -was. She left behind her at college a reputation as a -past mistress of the unexpected, and a graceful skater -over the thin ice of academic delinquency. She had -liked the admiration of her classmates and had more -or less consciously played for it. She did not mind -so much being small when it was so clear that her -compact figure contributed so considerably to her general -Susiness.</p> - -<p>And the manner of the way in which Susan became -Susie again fell in this wise:</p> - -<p>Last summer the newest certain rich man in Indianapolis, -having builded himself a house so large that -his wife took the children and went abroad to be comfortable, -fell under the fascinations of a book agent, -who equipped his library with four thousand of the -books that are books. The capitalist really meant to -read them when he got time—if he ever did; and, in -order that he might the more readily avail himself of -his library when leisure offered, he acted upon the -agent’s hint that it should be scientifically catalogued. -The public librarian had suggested Miss Parker as a -competent person for the task; and Logan, the owner<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -of the unread books, having been pleased with the -candidate’s appearance, had suggested that she live in -the house while doing the work, to be company for -his wife’s aunt, who was marooned there during Mrs. -Logan’s absence. Logan thereupon went to Alaska to -look at an investment. The aunt proved agreeable -and the big Logan house was, of course, a much pleasanter -place than Susan’s boarding house, where she -had been annoyed by the efforts of one or two young -gentlemen to flirt with her. Though her isolation -emphasized the passing of her Susiness, she was reasonably -happy, and set up her typewriter among the -new books to do the cataloguing. In the long, eventless -evenings she read to the aunt or cut leaves, and -felt the years of her Susihood receding.</p> - -<p>And it was not until the very last week of her stay -in the Logan house that Miss Susan Parker experienced -a recrudescence of her Susiness.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Late one afternoon, midway of September, Susie, -who had just returned from a stroll, stood on the Logan -portico watching the motors flit past, and thinking a -little mournfully that in a few days she must go back -to her boarding house and her place behind the library -counter. It was then that she observed Mr. Webster -G. Burgess on his doorstep adjoining, viewing the -urban landscape reflectively. He was hatless and in -his hand he held a bit of yellow paper that resembled -a telegram. Noting Susie’s presence on the Logan -veranda, he crossed the lawn in her direction. She -knew from a personal item in the afternoon paper that -Mr. Burgess had returned from his vacation, and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -Mrs. Burgess was to follow at once, accompanied by -her younger sister, Miss Wilkinson; and that she was -to entertain immediately Mr. Brown Pendleton, a -wealthy young American explorer and archæologist, -who was coming to Indiana to deliver the dedicatory -address at the opening of the new Historical Museum -at the state university. Mrs. Burgess always entertained -all the distinguished people who visited Indianapolis, -and it had occurred to Susan that by the -exercise of ordinary vigilance she might catch a glimpse -of Brown Pendleton during his stay at the house next -door. Webster Burgess was a banker who had inherited -his bank, and he had always found life rather -pleasant going. His wife diverted him a good deal, -and the fact that she played at being a highbrow -amused him almost more than anything else. He had -kept his figure, and at forty-two was still able to dance -without fear of apoplexy. He chose his haberdashery -with taste, and sometimes he sent flowers to ladies -without inclosing his wife’s card; but his wife said this -was temperamental, which was a very good name for it.</p> - -<p>Susie, holding her ground as Burgess advanced, composedly -patted the head of one of the bronze lions that -guarded the entrance to the Logan doors.</p> - -<p>“Good evening! It’s mighty nice to see you back -again,” said Burgess, smiling.</p> - -<p>It was at this instant that Susan, hearing the god -of adventure sounding the call to arms, became Susie -again.</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad to see you, Mr. Burgess,” she replied; -and ceasing to fondle the bronze lion’s left ear -she gave the banker her hand. “Summer is hanging -on,” observed Susie; “it’s quite warm this evening.”</p> - -<p>“It is, indeed, and most of our neighbors seem to -be staying away late; but I’m glad you’re back.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>Susie was glad he was back. Her superficial knowledge -of Mr. Webster Burgess bore wholly upon his -standing as a banker. In the year she had spent in -his ancestral city she had never heard anything to -justify a suspicion that he was a gentleman given to -flirtations with strange young women. There was -something quite cozy and neighborly in his fashion of -addressing her. His attitude seemed paternal rather -than otherwise. He undoubtedly mistook her for a -member of the Logan household. It crossed her mind -that he probably knew little of the Logan family, who -had occupied the new house only to leave it; but she -knew there were several Logan girls, for she was occupying -the room designed for one of them.</p> - -<p>“This is what I call downright good luck!” Burgess -continued, glancing at his watch. “Mrs. Burgess -reaches town at six, with her sister—and Brown Pendleton, -the explorer, and so on. We met him at Little -Boar’s Head, and you know how Mrs. Burgess is—she -wanted to be sure he saw this town right. A mighty -interesting chap—his father left him a small mint, -and he spends his income digging. He’s dug up about -all the Egyptians, Babylonians and Ninevites. He’s -coming out to make a speech—thinks of prying into -the mound-builders; though I don’t see why any one -should. Do you?”</p> - -<p>“On the whole I think the idea rather tickles me,” -said Susie. “I always thought it would be fun to try -a lid-lifter on the dead past.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Burgess took note of her anew and chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Open up kings like sardines! I like your way of -putting it.”</p> - -<p>“A few canned kings for domestic consumption,” -added Susie, thinking that he was very easy to talk to. -The fact that he did not know her from a daughter of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -the royal house of Rameses made not the slightest difference -now that the adventurous spirit of the old -Susie days possessed her.</p> - -<p>Mr. Burgess was scrutinizing the telegram again.</p> - -<p>“I want you to dine with us this evening—as a -special favor, you know. It’s rather sudden, but Mrs. -Burgess has a sudden way of doing things. Just as I -left my office I got this wire ordering me to produce -the most presentable girl I could find for dinner. Pendleton -hates big functions, but I nailed Billy Merrill -at the club on my way up, according to instructions—you -can always get Billy; but I went through the telephone -book without finding any unattached woman of -suitable age I would dare take a shot at, knowing my -wife’s prejudices. And then I looked over here and -saw you.”</p> - -<p>His manner conveyed, with the utmost circumspection, -the idea that seeing her had brightened the world -considerably.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Mr. Burgess,” replied Susie, without the -slightest hesitation or qualm. “At seven, did you -say?”</p> - -<p>“Seven-thirty we’d better say. There’s my machine -and I’ve got to go to the station to meet them.”</p> - -<p>As Susan, the thing would have been impossible; as -Susie, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. -Burgess was backing down the steps. Every instant -reduced the possibility of retreat; but the fact was, that -she exulted in her sin. She was an impostor and she rejoiced -shamelessly in being an impostor. And yet it -did not seem altogether square to accept Mr. Burgess’s -invitation to dinner when it would undoubtedly involve -him in difficulties with his wife, whom she had -never seen in her life.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>Burgess paused and wheeled round abruptly.</p> - -<p>Her Susiness experienced a shock—the incident, in -her hasty conjecture, was already closed—for he said:</p> - -<p>“By-the-way, what is your name anyhow?”</p> - -<p>“Susie,” she said, lifting her chin Susily.</p> - -<p>Mr. Burgess laughed, as though it were perfectly -obvious that she was a Susie—as though any one at a -glance ought to know that this young person in the -white flannel skirt and blue shirt-waist was a Susie, -ordained to be so called from the very first hour of -creation.</p> - -<p>“Just for fun, what’s the rest of it?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Parker, please. I’m not even a poor relation of -the Logans.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t suppose you were; quite and distinctly -not!” he declared as though the Logans were wholly -obnoxious. “I never saw you before in my life—did -I?”</p> - -<p>“Never,” said Susie, giving him the benefit of her -blue eyes.</p> - -<p>Burgess rubbed his ear reflectively.</p> - -<p>“I think I’m in for a row,” he remarked in an agreeable -tone, as though rows of the sort he had in mind -were not distasteful to him.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Susie with an air of making concessions, -“if you really didn’t mean to ask me to dinner, -or have changed your mind now that you find I’m -a stranger and a person your wife would never invite -to her house, we’ll call the party off.”</p> - -<p>“Heavens, no! You can’t send regrets to a dinner -at the last minute. And if you don’t show up I’m -going to be in mighty bad. You see——” He gazed -at Susie with the keen scrutiny he reserved for customers -when they asked to have their lines of credit extended,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -and he carefully weighed the moral risk. “We seem to -be on amazingly intimate terms, considering our short -acquaintance. There’s something about you that inspires -confidence.”</p> - -<p>“I’m much uplifted by this tribute,” said Susie with -a Susesque touch that escaped her so naturally, so -easily, that she marveled at herself.</p> - -<p>Burgess smiled broadly.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid,” he remarked, “that you don’t quite -fill the bill; but you’ll do—you’ve got to do!”</p> - -<p>He handed her the telegram he had retained in his -hand and watched her face as she read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>P. is greatly taken with Floy, and we must -give her every chance. Pick up an uninteresting -young man and one of the least attractive -of the older girls for dinner tonight. -This is important Make no mistake.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Those are my instructions. Can you ever forgive -me?”</p> - -<p>“With my hair brushed straight back, they say I’m -quite homely,” observed Susie sighing.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t do my worst,” said the banker, “where -Nature has been so generous.”</p> - -<p>“It seems,” observed Susie meditatively, “that I’m -your deliberate choice as a foil for your sister-in-law, -by sheer force of my unattractiveness.”</p> - -<p>“I’m slightly nearsighted,” replied the banker. “It’s -a frightful handicap.”</p> - -<p>“I can see that glasses would be unbecoming to you.”</p> - -<p>“The matter of eyes,” said the banker, stroking a -lion, “is not one I should trust myself to discuss with -you. Do you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”</p> - -<p>“Cutting the leaves in the books and making a card -catalogue. I use the typewriter with a dexterity that -has been admired.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>“A person of education, clearly.”</p> - -<p>“French and German were required by my college; -and I speak English with only a slight Onondaga -accent, as you observe.”</p> - -<p>Her essential Susiness seemed to be communicating -itself to the banker. His chauffeur loosened a raucous -blast of the horn warningly.</p> - -<p>“I fear your time is wasted. The Logans will never -read those books. It’s possible that the hand of Fate -guided me across the lawn to deliver you from the -lions. The thought pleases me. To continue our confidences, -I will say that, noble woman though my wife -is, her sister has at times annoyed me. And when I -left Little Boar’s Head I saw that Pendleton suspected -that we were trying to kidnap him.”</p> - -<p>“And I take it that the natural fellow-feeling of man -for man would mitigate your sorrow if the gentleman -whom your wife is carrying home in a birdcage should -not, in fact, become your brother-in-law.”</p> - -<p>“It would be indelicate for me to go so far as that; -but Floy has always had a snippy way with me. I -should like to see her have to work for the prize.”</p> - -<p>“My dinner frock is three years old, but I’ll see -what I can do to become a natural hazard. You’d -better move upon the station—the blasts of that horn -are not soothing to the nerves.”</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Brown Pendleton, Ph.D., L.H.D., F.R.G.S., frowned -as he adjusted his white tie before the mirror of the -Burgesses’ best guest-room. He was a vigorous, -healthy American of thirty, quite capable of taking -care of himself; and yet he had been dragged submissively -across the continent by a lady who was animated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -by an ambition to marry him to her sister, -toward whom his feelings, in the most minute self-analysis, -were only those of polite indifference. And -the mound-builders, now that he thought of it, were -rather tame after Egypt and Babylon. As he surveyed -his tanned face above his snowy shirt bosom he -wished that he had never consented to deliver the -address at the opening of the new Historical Museum -at Indiana University, which was the ostensible -reason for this Western flight. As for Miss Floy Wilkinson, -she was a perfectly conventional person, who -had—not to be more explicit—arrived at a time of -life when people say of a girl that she is holding her -own well. And she was. She was indubitably handsome, -but not exciting. She was the sort of girl who -makes an ideal house guest, and she had walked down -church aisles ahead of one after the other of her old -school friends all the way from Duluth to Bangor. -Mrs. Burgess had become anxious as to Floy’s future, -and in convoying Pendleton to Indianapolis and planting -him in her best guest-chamber she was playing her -cards with desperation.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess ran upstairs to dress after a hasty -cross-examination of the cook, to make sure her telegraphic -order for dinner had been understood, and -found her husband shaking himself into his dress coat.</p> - -<p>She presented her back to be unhooked and talked -on in a way she had.</p> - -<p>“Well, I suppose you got Grace Whiting or Minnie -Rideout? And, of course, you couldn’t have failed on -Billy Merrill. I think Grace and Billy are showing -signs, at last, of being interested in each other. You -can’t tell what may have happened during the summer. -But if Pendleton should fail—well, Billy isn’t so dull<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -as people think; and Floy doesn’t mind his clumsiness -so much as she did. Did you say you got Minnie?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Burgess, absorbed in a particularly stubborn -hook, was silent. Mrs. Burgess was afraid to urge -conversation upon him lest he should throw up the -job, and Floy was monopolizing the only available -maid. When a sigh advertised his triumph over the -last hook she caught him as he was moving toward -the door.</p> - -<p>“Did you say Minnie was coming, Web?”</p> - -<p>“No, Gertie—no. You didn’t say anything about -Minnie in your telegram; you said to get a girl.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Web, you know that meant Grace Whiting -or Minnie Rideout; they are my old standbys.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Grace has gone somewhere to bury her uncle, -and Minnie is motoring through the Blue Grass. It -was pretty thin picking, but I did the best I could.”</p> - -<p>His tone and manner left much to be desired. His -wife’s trunk was being unstrapped in the hall outside -and there was no time for parleying.</p> - -<p>“Whom did you get, then? Not——”</p> - -<p>“I got Susie,” said Burgess, shooting his cuffs.</p> - -<p>“Susie?”</p> - -<p>“Susie!” he repeated with falling inflection.</p> - -<p>“What Susie?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Gertie, to be quite frank, I’ll be hanged if I -know. I haven’t the slightest, not the remotest, idea.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, Web?—if you know!”</p> - -<p>The clock on the stairs below was chiming half past -six. Burgess grinned; it was not often he had a chance -like this. In social affairs it was she who did the -befuddling.</p> - -<p>“I mean to say that, though her name is Susie, it’s -rather more than a proper name; it’s also a common<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -noun, and chock-full of suggestions—pleasant ones, on -the whole.” She was trying to free herself of her -gown, and one of the hooks caught so that he had to -extricate her. Half angry, half alarmed, she seized him -by his lapels, for fear he might escape before she had -put an end to his foolishness. “She said her name -was Parker; but I rather question it. She looks like a -Susie, but the Parker is something of a misfit. For -myself, I prefer to cut out the Parker.”</p> - -<p>“Web Burgess, tell me just what you have been up -to! Don’t I know this person?”</p> - -<p>“I doubt it. And I don’t hesitate to say that it’s -a loss on both sides.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to tell me that at this serious crisis -in all our lives, when there’s so much at stake, you’ve -asked a girl to dinner in this house that we don’t know? -After all my work—after——”</p> - -<p>“After your telegram, which I interpreted literally -to mean that I was to land a girl for dinner who would -serve merely to emphasize Floy’s haughty grandeur, -I did the best I could. Grace and Minnie were not -available; Susie was. So Susie is coming.”</p> - -<p>“Web, we’ve been married ten years and I have -never had any reason to suspect you or even complain -of you; but if you think you can pick up some strange -girl among your admirations and bring her to my table -I shall resent it; I shall not pass it lightly by!” she -ended tragically.</p> - -<p>Burgess walked to the window, drew back the curtain -and peered across at the Logan house.</p> - -<p>“I suspect that Susie’s getting into her fighting -clothes. You needn’t be afraid of Susie. Susie’s entirely -respectable. And, as for my relations with Susie, -she hadn’t gladdened my sight an hour ago. You’d<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -better let me send Nora to help you. It would be -awkward for you not to be down when Susie comes.”</p> - -<p>He hummed inanely, “When Susie comes! When -Susie comes!” and closed the door upon her indignation.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>At seven-twenty-nine Susie eluded the vigilance of -the wondering lions and ran up the Burgess steps.</p> - -<p>Burgess met her in the hall, where she stepped out -of her wrap and stood forth rather taller than he -remembered her, by reason of her high-heeled slippers.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess, proud of her reputation for meeting -emergencies, did not wait for her guest to be presented. -Her quick scrutiny discovered nothing alarming in this -young person. With a quick eye she appraised the -three-year-old gown, correctly placed its vintage and -said:</p> - -<p>“So nice that you could come.”</p> - -<p>Pendleton, who knew a great many girls in different -parts of the world, saw nothing disquieting in this -Miss Parker. She was merely another girl. Billy -Merrill, who was forty, wondered whether there would -be champagne or only sauterne besides the cocktail. -He had never heard of Pendleton, any more than he -had heard of Miss Parker, and he was speculating as -to whether he had ever really been in love with Floy -Wilkinson, and whether he should venture to propose -to her again just after Christmas. Proposing to Floy -was a habit with Billy.</p> - -<p>At the round table the forks for the caviar had been -overlooked, and this gave the dinner a bad start. -Mrs. Burgess was annoyed, and to cover her annoyance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -she related an anecdote, at which the guest of -honor only smiled wanly. He did not seem happy. -He barely tasted his soup, and when Burgess addressed -a question to him directly Pendleton did not hear it -until it had been repeated. Things were not going -well. Then Billy Merrill asked Pendleton if he was -related to some Pendletons he knew in St Louis. -Almost every one knew that Brown Pendleton belonged -to an old Rhode Island family—and Merrill -should have known it. Mrs. Burgess was enraged by -the fleeting grin she detected on her husband’s face. -Web was always so unsympathetic. Burgess was conversing -tranquilly with Susie; he never grasped the -idea that his wife gave small dinners to encourage general -conversation. And this strange girl would not -contribute to the conversation; she seemed to be making -curious remarks to Webster in a kind of baby talk -that made him choke with mirth. “An underbred, -uncultivated person!” thought Mrs. Burgess.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess decided that it would not be amiss to -take soundings in the unknown’s past and immediate -present.</p> - -<p>“You don’t usually come back to town so early, do -you, Miss Parker?” she asked sweetly.</p> - -<p>“No; but Newport was rather slow this year—so -many of the houses weren’t open.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess and her sister exchanged a glance of -startled surprise. Brown Pendleton’s thoughts came -back from Babylon. Merrill looked at Miss Parker -with open-eyed admiration.</p> - -<p>“Dear old Newport!” Pendleton remarked with feeling. -“It has rather lost tone. I’m not surprised that -you didn’t care for it.”</p> - -<p>He examined Susie with deliberation.</p> - -<p>“The Niedlingers and the Parquetries didn’t show<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -up at all; and the Ossingtons are said to have cut it -out for good,” observed Susie.</p> - -<p>“Yes; I saw Fred Ossington in London in the spring, -and he said he had enough. Nice chap, Fred.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad he had to give up polo,” said Susie, advancing -her pickets daringly; “but I fancy his arm will -never be fit again.”</p> - -<p>“He’s going in for balloons. Can you believe it? -Amusing fellow! Said he preferred falling on the earth -to having it fall on him. And, besides, a balloon -couldn’t kick when it had him down.”</p> - -<p>The conversation was picking up, and quite clearly -it was the unknown who was giving it momentum. -Fish had been disposed of satisfactorily and Mrs. Burgess -began to regain confidence. The unknown must -be checked. It would not do for the girl to go further -with this light, casual discussion, conveying as she did -all sorts of implications of knowledge of the great in -lofty places. The vintage of the dinner gown testified -unimpeachably against her having any real knowledge -of Newport, a place where Mrs. Burgess had once -spent a day at a hotel. Mrs. Burgess resolved to -squelch the impostor. Such presumption should not -go unrebuked even at one’s own table. Pendleton -was now discussing aviation with this impertinent -Susie, who brought to the subject the same light -touch of apparent sophistication she had employed -in speaking of Newport and polo. She asked him if -he had read an account of a new steering device for -dirigibles; she thought she had seen it in <i>L’Illustration</i>. -Pendleton was interested, and scribbled the approximate -date of the journal on the back of his namecard.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you came back ahead of your family, -Miss Parker? I really don’t know who’s in town.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I’m quite alone, Mrs. Burgess. You see,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -and Susie tilted her head Susily and spoke directly to -Mrs. Burgess, “one never really knows anything about -one’s neighbors.”</p> - -<p>“Ah—you live close by?” asked Pendleton.</p> - -<p>Susie answered with an imperceptible movement of -the head:</p> - -<p>“Oh, just next door, you know.”</p> - -<p>“How charming! At the sign of the lions? I noticed -them as we came up. I must have another look -at them. Rather good, as near as I could make out.”</p> - -<p>“They are rather nice, I think,” said Susie as one -who would not boast of her possessions. “Ernestenoff -did them—one of Barye’s pupils.”</p> - -<p>Burgess wondered how far she would go. Merrill’s -face wore the look of a man who is dying of worry. He -had lived in town all his life, and it was inconceivable -that this was one of Logan’s daughters. He had forgotten -the girl’s name, and he resolved to pay attention -in future when people were introduced.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess was too far at sea herself to bother -with his perplexities. Thoroughly alarmed, she threw -the conversation back three thousand years and shifted -its playground from the Wabash Valley to the left -bank of the Euphrates, confident that the temerarious -person with the yellow hair and blue eyes would be -dislodged.</p> - -<p>“When you first began your excavations in Assyria, -Mr. Pendleton, I suppose you didn’t realize how important -your work would be to the world.”</p> - -<p>The table listened. Merrill groped for light. This -Pendleton was, then, a digger among ancient ruins! -Miss Wilkinson’s eyes were ready to meet Pendleton’s -responsively and sympathetically: her interest in archæology -was recent and superficial, but this was only the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -more reason for yielding ungrudging admiration to the -eminent digger. Pendleton did not reply at once -to Mrs. Burgess’s question, and instead of appearing -pleased by its ingratiating flattery he frowned and -played with his wine-glass nervously. When he broke -the silence it was to say in a hard tone that was wholly -unlike his usual manner of speech:</p> - -<p>“I’m not at all sure that it has been of importance; -I’m inclined to think I wasted five years on those jobs.”</p> - -<p>His depression was undeniable and he made no effort -to conceal it. And Mrs. Burgess was angry to find -that she had clumsily touched the wrong chord, and -one that seemed to be vibrating endlessly. She had -always flattered herself that she had mastered the delicate -art of drawing out highbrows. Scores of distinguished -visitors to the Hoosier capital had gone -forth to publish her charm and wit; and this was the -first cloud that had ever rested above a dinner table -where a Chinese prince had been made to feel at home, -and whence poets, bishops, novelists, scientists and -statesmen had departed radiant. She had not only -struck the wrong note but one that boomed monotonously -down the long corridors of time.</p> - -<p>Burgess mildly sought to inject a needleful of bromide -into the situation.</p> - -<p>“You’re probably not a good judge of that, Mr. -Pendleton. The world has already set its seal of -approval upon your investigations.”</p> - -<p>“It’s not the world’s praise we want,” said Pendleton; -“it’s the praise of the men who know.”</p> - -<p>This was not tactful; it apparently brushed aside his -host’s approval as negligible. Miss Wilkinson flashed -Pendleton one of her brilliant smiles, remarking:</p> - -<p>“You are altogether too modest, Mr. Pendleton.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -Every one says that your ‘Brickyards of Nebuchadnezzar’ -is the last word on that subject.”</p> - -<p>And then a chill seized Mrs. Burgess. The yellow-haired, -blue-eyed unknown moved her head slightly to -one side, bit an almond in two with neatness, and said:</p> - -<p>“If I were you, Mr. Pendleton, I shouldn’t let a -faker like Geisendanner annoy me.”</p> - -<p>Susie regarded the remaining half of the almond -indifferently and then ate it musingly. At the mention -of Geisendanner Pendleton flushed, and his head -lifted as though he heard trumpets calling to action. -Then he bent toward Susie. The salad had just been -removed. Mrs. Burgess beat the table with her fingers -and awaited the earthquake. Her only relief at the -moment was in the consciousness that her husband, -from the look of his face, at last realized the heinousness -of his conduct in bringing just any little whipper-snapper -to her table. And Susie seemed to be the -only member of the company who was wholly tranquil. -Mrs. Burgess wondered whether she could be more -than twenty, so complete had been the reinvestiture of -the girl in the robes of her Susiness. She had spoken -of Geisendanner as though he lived round the corner -and were a person that every one with any sort of -decent bringing up knew or should know. The effect -of the name upon Pendleton was not pleasant to see, -and Mrs. Burgess shuddered. After the first shock of -surprise he seemed wonderfully subdued. Clearly this -Geisendanner was an enemy or a man he feared. The -eminent Babylonian met Susie’s eyes apprehensively. -He said in a low tone of dejection:</p> - -<p>“So you know then?” As though of course she did, -and that a dark understanding had thus been established -by their common knowledge.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>Susie nodded.</p> - -<p>“Rather absurd, on the whole, when you consider——”</p> - -<p>Her plate was being changed and she drew back -during the interruption. Pendleton shook his head -impatiently at the delay.</p> - -<p>“Absurd! How absurd? If it’s absurd to have the -results of years of hard work chucked into the rubbish -heap, then——”</p> - -<p>“But no!” Susie felt for her fork without breaking -the contact of their eyes. She was smiling as though -quite the mistress of the occasion and waiting merely -to prolong the agony of the sufferers about her. She -was not insensible to their sufferings; it was pleasant -rather than otherwise to inflict torture. Still her attitude -toward the distressed scientist was kindly—but -she would make him wait. Her bearing toward Pendleton -at the moment was slightly maternal. It was -only a matter of bricks anyhow; and trifles like the -chronological arrangement of bricks, where, one toppling, -all went down, were not only to the young person’s -liking but quite within the range of her powers of -manipulation. “As I remember,” she continued, “Geisendanner -first attacked the results of the Deutsche -Orientgesellschaft; but, of course, that was disposed of.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” assented Pendleton eagerly; “Auchengloss did -that.”</p> - -<p>It seemed preposterous that the small mouth of this -young person could utter such names at all, much less -with an air of familiarity, as though they were the -names of streets or of articles of commerce.</p> - -<p>“It was Glosbrenner, however, who paved the way -for you by disposing of Geisendanner—absolutely.”</p> - -<p>“The excavations they made in their absurd search<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -for treasure in the ruins confused everything; but Glosbrenner’s -exposé was lost—burnt up in a printing-office -fire in Berlin. There’s not an assertion in my ‘Brickyards -of Nebuchadnezzar’ that isn’t weakened by that -bronze-gate rubbish, for Geisendanner was a scholar of -some reputation. After the failure of his hidden-treasure -scheme he faked his book on the Bronze Gates -of Babylon as a pot boiler, and died leaving it behind -him—one of the most plausible frauds ever perpetrated. -They went in on top of my excavations of the -brickyard—thought because I was an American I -must have been looking for gold images. Glosbrenner -was an American student; and seeing that his fellow-adventurer’s -book was taken seriously he wrote his -exposé, swore to it before the American consul at -Berlin and then started for Tibet to sell an automobile -to the Grand Lama—and never came back.”</p> - -<p>Pendleton’s depression had increased; gloom settled -upon the company—or upon all but this demure young -skeleton at the feast, who had thus outrageously -brought to the table the one topic of all topics in the -world that was the most ungrateful to the man Mrs. -Burgess most particularly wished to please. She sought -without avail to break in upon a dialogue that excluded -the rest of the company as completely as though they -were in the kitchen.</p> - -<p>“I was just reading that thing in the Seven Seas’ -Review; but you can see that the reviewer swallowed -Geisendanner whole. He takes your brickyards away -from Nebuchadnezzar and gives them to Nabopolassar, -which seems v-e-r-y c-a-r-e-l-e-s-s!”</p> - -<p>This concluding phrase, drawled most Susesquely, -brought a laugh from Burgess, and Pendleton’s own -face relaxed.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>“They’re all flinging Geisendanner at me!” continued -Pendleton with renewed animation. “It’s humiliating -to find the English and Germans alike throwing -this impostor at my head. Those fellows began -their excavations secretly and without authority, in a -superstitious belief that they’d find gold images of -heathen gods and all manner of loot there. And it’s -hard luck that the confession of one of the conspirators -is lost forever and the man himself dead.”</p> - -<p>“It certainly is most unfortunate!” mourned Mrs. -Burgess, anxious to pour balm upon his wounds.</p> - -<p>“It’s curious, however, Mr. Pendleton,” said Susie -casually, “that I happen to know of the existence of -a copy of that Glosbrenner pamphlet.”</p> - -<p>“A copy—— You mustn’t chaff me about that!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Susie; “it’s really quite the funniest -thing that ever happened.”</p> - -<p>“This seems to be an important matter, Miss Parker. -You have no right to play upon Mr. Pendleton’s credulity, -his hopes!” said Mrs. Burgess icily.</p> - -<p>“Nothing like that, Mrs. Burgess!” chirruped Susie. -“I can tell Mr. Pendleton exactly where one copy of -that pamphlet, and probably the only one in the world, -may be found. And a small investment in a night -message to Poughkeepsie will verify what I say. There -is a copy of that pamphlet at Vassar College that was -picked up in Berlin by one of the professors, who gave -it to the library. It had a grayish cover and looked -like a thesis for a doctorate—that sort of thing. It was -a little burned on the edges, and that was one reason -why it caught my eye one day when I was poking -about looking for something among a lot of German -treatises with the most amusing long titles. And it -was a perfectly dee-li-cious story—how they dug and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -mixed up those dynasties there; and then one of them -wrote a book about it, just for the money he could -get out of it. It was all a fake, but they knew enough -to make it look like real goods. It was a kind of -Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer joke, muddying -the water that way.”</p> - -<p>The conjunction of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer -with Nebuchadnezzar caused even Merrill to laugh.</p> - -<p>“I must wire tonight for a confirmation of this—or, -perhaps, if you are an alumna of the college you would -do it for me.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Susie, “they still remember me at -college. I was the limit!”</p> - -<p>“If what you say is right,” Pendleton resumed, “I -can smash those Germans and make that Seven Seas’ -reviewer eat his words! I really believe it would be -better for you to wire for me to the librarian for confirmation; -I’d rather not publish my anxiety to the -world. If you will do this I shall look upon it as the -greatest possible favor.”</p> - -<p>“Delighted!” said Susie, crumpling her napkin.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess showed signs of rising, but delayed a -moment.</p> - -<p>“Miss Parker, you rather implied that there was -more than one reason why you happened to notice a -singed document in a strange language, bearing upon -a subject usually left to scientists and hardly within -the range of a young girl’s interests. Would you mind -enlightening us just a little further in the matter?”</p> - -<p>“I thought it was so funny,” said Susie, smiling -upon them all, “because of my papa.”</p> - -<p>“Your father?” gasped Mrs. Burgess.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mrs. Burgess. Anything about bricks always -seemed to me so amusing, because papa used to own -a brickyard.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>A packet of newspaper clippings forwarded with -other mail for Pendleton did not add to the joy of -the Burgess breakfast table the next morning. The -archæologist murmured an apology and scanned the -cuttings with knit brows.</p> - -<p>“How early,” he asked, “do you imagine Miss -Parker can have a confirmation of her impression -about that thing of Glosbrenner’s?”</p> - -<p>“By noon, I should think,” answered Burgess.</p> - -<p>The husband of Mrs. Burgess had passed a bad -night, and he was fully persuaded of the grievousness -of his most grievous sin. Never again, he had solemnly -sworn, would he attempt any such playfulness as had -wrought this catastrophe—never again would he expose -himself to the witchery of Susans prone to Susinesses!</p> - -<p>“Unless I have corroboration of Miss Parker’s impression -before three o’clock I shall break my engagement -at the state university. With this article in the -Seven Seas’ Review lying on every college library -table, citing Geisendanner against me and discrediting -me as the discoverer of the brickyards of Nebuchadnezzar, -I shall never stand upon a platform again—and -I must withdraw my book. My reputation, in -other words, hangs upon a telegram,” concluded the -archæologist gloomily.</p> - -<p>“It is inconceivable,” said Mrs. Burgess in a cheerful -tone that far from represented her true feelings, “that -Miss Parker would have spoken as she did if she hadn’t -been reasonably confident. Still it is always best to -be prepared for disappointments. I think you and -Floy had better take the motor for a run into the -country and forget the telegram until it arrives. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -dare say Miss Parker will send it over at once when -it comes.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, very much,” muttered Pendleton, not -highly elated at the thought of motoring with Miss -Wilkinson, whose efforts to enliven the breakfast table -by talking of things as far removed as possible from -the brickyards of oblivion had palled upon the wealthy -archæologist. He was an earnest chap, this Pendleton; -and the fact that his eligibility as a bachelor was -not, in certain eyes, greatly diminished by the failure -of his efforts to reëstablish the brick industries of -Babylon had not occurred to him. Floy and the Burgesses -bored him; but he was dazed by the threatened -collapse of his reputation. He declined his host’s invitation -to walk downtown; and in an equally absent-minded -fashion he refused an invitation to luncheon at -the University Club, to meet certain prominent -citizens. Whereupon, finding the air too tense for -his nerves, Burgess left for the bank.</p> - -<p>Pendleton moved restlessly about the house, moodily -smoking, while the two women pecked at him occasionally -with conversation and then withdrew for -consultation. His legs seemed to be drawn to those -windows of the Burgess drawing room that looked -toward the Logans’. In a few minutes Pendleton -picked up his hat and stick and left the house, merely -saying to the maid he saw clearing up the dining room -that he was going for a walk. It is wholly possible -he meant to go for a walk quite alone, but at the -precise moment at which he reached the Logans’ iron -gates the Logan door opened suddenly, as though his -foot had released a spring, and Susie, in hat and coat, -surveyed the world from between the lions. Mrs. -Burgess and Floy, established in an upper window,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -saw Susie wave a hand to Brown Pendleton. For a -woman to wave her hand to a man she hasn’t known -twenty-four hours, particularly when he is wealthy -and otherwise distinguished, is the least bit open to -criticism. Susie did not escape criticism, but Susie -was happily unmindful of it. And it seemed that as -she fluttered down between the lions Pendleton grasped -her hand anxiously, as though fearing she meditated -flight; whereas nothing was further from Susie’s mind.</p> - -<p>“Good news!” she cried. “They have just telephoned -me the answer from the telegraph office. I -think telephoned messages are so annoying; and, as -they take forever to send one out, I was just going to -the office to get it and send it up to you.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” cried Pendleton with fervor, “you must let -me go with you. It’s a fine morning for a walk.”</p> - -<p>At the telegraph office he read the message from -Susie’s friend, the librarian, which was official and -final. Whereupon Pendleton became a man of action. -To the professor of archæology at Vassar, whom he -knew, Pendleton wrote a long message referring to -the Seven Seas’ Review’s attack, and requesting that -the precious Glosbrenner confession be carefully guarded -until he could examine it personally at the college. -He wrote also a cable to the American consul at Berlin, -requesting that Geisendanner’s whole record be thoroughly -investigated.</p> - -<p>“Why,” asked Susie, an awed witness of this reckless -expenditure for telegrams, “why don’t you ask the -State Department to back up your cable? They -must know you in Washington.”</p> - -<p>“By Jove!” ejaculated Pendleton, staring at Susie -as though frightened by her precociousness; “that’s -a bully idea! Phillips, the second assistant secretary,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -is an old friend of mine, and he’ll tear up the earth for -me!”</p> - -<p>As they strolled back uptown through the long -street, with its arching maples, they seemed altogether -like the oldest of friends. Pendleton did not appear to -mind at all, if he were conscious of the fact, that -Susie’s hat was not one of the new fall models, or that -her coat was not in the least smart. The strain was -over and he submitted himself in high good humor to -the Susiness of Susie. It was when they were passing -the Public Library that a mood of remorse seized her. -There was, she reflected, such a thing as carrying a -joke too far. She salved her conscience with the -reflection that if she had not yielded to the temptations -of her own Susiness and accepted Mr. Burgess’s invitation -she would not have been able to point this big, -earnest student to the particular alcove and shelf -where reposed the one copy in all the world of the -only document that would rout the critics of the Brickyards -of Nebuchadnezzar.</p> - -<p>“That Geisendanner,” said Susie, rather more -soberly than he had yet heard her speak, “was, beyond -doubt, an awful liar and a great fraud; but I am a -much greater.”</p> - -<p>“You!” exclaimed Pendleton, leaning for a moment -on his stick and staring at her.</p> - -<p>“Even so! In the first place, I went to Mrs. Burgess’s -house for dinner last night through a mistake; -she had never seen or heard of me before, and Mr. -Burgess asked me merely because he had exhausted -the other possibilities and was desperate for some one -to fill a chink at his wife’s table. And the worst thing -I did was to make you think I knew all about Newport, -when I was never there in my life—and never saw any -of the people I mentioned. Everything I said I got<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -out of the newspapers. It was all just acting, and I -put it on a little more because I saw that Mrs. Burgess -and her sister didn’t like me; they didn’t think it was a -joke at all, my trying to be Susie again—just once more -in my life before I settled back to being called Miss -Susan forever. And the way I come to be living in -that fine house is simply that I’m borrowed from the -library for so much a week to catalogue the Logans’ -library and push a paperknife through the books. -Now you see that Geisendanner isn’t in it with me for -downright wickedness and most s-h-o-c-k-i-n-g   m-e-n-d-a-c-i-t-y!”</p> - -<p>“But if you hadn’t done all those terrible things where -should I be?” demanded Pendleton. “But, before -dismissing your confession, would you mind telling me -just how you came to know—well, anything about me?”</p> - -<p>“I’m almost afraid to go that far,” laughed Susie, -who, as a matter of fact, did not fear this big, good-natured -man at all.</p> - -<p>“Tell me that,” encouraged Pendleton, “and we will -consider the confession closed.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I think I’ll be happier to tell you, and then -the slate will be cleaned off a little bit anyhow. A -sample copy of the Seven Seas’ Review had strayed into -the house; and, in glancing over the list of book reviews -on the cover, I saw the Brickyards of Nebuchadnezzar -among the books noticed. I spent ten minutes reading -the review; and then I grabbed the Britannica—four -minutes more! And then in Who’s Who I saw that -you were a Newporter. It’s remarkable how educated -one can become in fifteen minutes! And, as I said -last night when Mrs. Burgess asked me how I came -to be interested in that sort of thing, my father ran a -brickyard!”</p> - -<p>She was looking straight ahead, but the Babylonian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -expert saw that there were tears in her eyes, as though -called forth by the recollection of other and happier -times.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he said gravely; “and now let us forget -all about this.”</p> - -<p>They walked in silence for several minutes, not looking -at each other, until she said as they neared the -Burgess gate:</p> - -<p>“After all, I’m the foolishest little Susie in the -world; and it’s a lot better for me to go back and be -Susan again, and not go to dinner parties where I’m -not expected.”</p> - -<p>And what Pendleton seemed to say, though she was -not sure of it, was:</p> - -<p>“Never!—not if I know myself!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Do you suppose,” Mrs. Burgess asked her sister -as they saw Susie tripping along beside Pendleton, -“that she has carried it through?”</p> - -<p>“From Brown Pendleton’s looks,” said Floy, “I -should judge she had. But—it can’t be possible that -she’s coming in here again!”</p> - -<p>Susie and Pendleton lingered at the gate for an instant, -in which he seemed to be talking earnestly. -Then together they entered; and in a moment Mrs. -Burgess and Floy faced them in the drawing room, -where Pendleton announced with undeniable relief -and satisfaction the good news from Poughkeepsie.</p> - -<p>“Then I suppose you will make the address at the -university after all?” said Mrs. Burgess. “I find that -so many matters are pressing here that I shall have to -forego the pleasure of joining you; and Floy, of course, -will have to be excused also.”</p> - -<p>“On the other hand,” said Pendleton with the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -engaging of smiles, “I must beg you not to abandon me. -Our party of last night was so perfect, and the results -of it so important to me, that I shall greatly regret -losing any member of it. I propose in my address -tonight to assert my claims to the discovery of the -brickyards of Nebuchadnezzar as against all the -assertions that contradict me in Geisendanner’s romantic -fiction about the bronze gates of Babylon. I should -like you all to be present, and I am going to beg you, -as a particular favor, Mrs. Burgess, to invite Miss -Parker to accompany us; for, without her helpful -hint as to the existence of that copy of Glosbrenner’s -confession, where, I should like to know, would I be?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess prided herself upon being able to meet -just such situations; and Susie was so demure—there -was about the child something so appealing and winning—that -Mrs. Burgess dipped her colors.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Mr. Pendleton. I’m sure that Mr. -Merrill will feel honored to be included. And I shall -be delighted to chaperon Miss Parker.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Parker has agreed to help me run down some -obscure authorities on the mound-builders a little -later, and the trip will give her a chance to see what -they have in the university library. I can’t afford to -take any more chances with so much doubtful scientific -lore floating about.”</p> - -<p>“I should think,” remarked Floy carelessly, “you -would find help of some kind almost essential in your -future work.”</p> - -<p>“I think, myself,” said Susie with an uncontrollable -resurgence of her Susiness, “that it would save an -a-w-f-u-l   l-o-t   o-f   t-r-o-u-b-l-e!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">THE GIRL WITH THE RED FEATHER</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Webster G. Burgess</span>, president of the White -River National Bank, started slightly as he looked -up from the letter he had been reading and found Hill, -the Government detective, standing at the rail. Burgess -dropped the letter into a drawer and said briskly:</p> - -<p>“Hello, Hill—looking for me?”</p> - -<p>“No; not yet!”</p> - -<p>This was an established form of salutation between -them and they both grinned. Burgess rose and leaned -against the rail, while the detective summarized his -latest counterfeiting adventure, which had to do with -a clew furnished by a bad bill that had several weeks -earlier got by one of the White River National tellers. -Hill had bagged the maker of the bill, and he had just -been satisfying himself that the teller would be ready -to testify the next day before the Federal grand jury.</p> - -<p>Hill visited the bank frequently and Burgess knew -him well. The secret-service man was a veteran hunter -of offenders against the peace and dignity of the United -States, and, moreover, a capital story-teller. Burgess -often asked him into his private office for an hour’s -talk. He had once given a dinner in Hill’s honor, -inviting a select coterie of friends who knew a good -tale when they heard it and appreciated a shrewd, -resourceful man when they saw him.</p> - -<p>The White River National was one of the largest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -and strongest banks in the state, and Burgess was one -of the richest men in his native city of Indianapolis; -but these facts did not interfere with enjoyment of life -according to his lights, which were not unluminous. -Having been born on top, he was not without his -sympathetic interest in the unfortunates whose lot is -cast near the burnt bottom crust, and his generous -impulses sometimes betrayed him into doing things -that carping critics thought not wholly in keeping with -his responsibilities and station in life.</p> - -<p>These further facts may be noted: Burgess was the -best-dressed man in Indianapolis—he always wore -a pink carnation; and on occasions when he motored -home for luncheon he changed his necktie—a fact that -did not go unremarked in the bank cages. He belonged -to hunting and fishing clubs in Canada, Maine and -North Carolina, and visited them at proper seasons. -There was a drop of adventurous blood in him that made -banking the least bit onerous at times; and when he -felt the need of air he disappeared to catch salmon or -tarpon, or to hunt grouse or moose. Before his father -had unkindly died and left him the bank and other -profitable embarrassments, he had been obsessed with -a passion for mixing in a South American revolution; -he had chafed when the Spanish War most deplorably -synchronized with the year of his marriage, and he -could think of no valid excuse for leaving the newly -kindled fire on his domestic altar to pose for Spanish -bullets. Twice since his marriage he had looked death -in the eye: once when he tumbled off a crag of the -Canadian Rockies—he was looking for a mountain -sheep; and again when he had been whistled down the -Virginia capes in a hurricane while yachting with a -Boston friend. Every one admitted that he was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -good banker. If he got stung occasionally he did not -whimper; and every one knew that the White River -National could stand a good deal of stinging without -being obliged to hang crape on its front door.</p> - -<p>Burgess had always felt that some day something -would happen to relieve the monotony of his existence -as the chief pilot of an institution which panics always -passed by on the other side. His wife cultivated -bishops, men of letters and highbrows generally; -and he was always stumbling over them in his home, -sometimes to his discomfiture. With that perversity -of human nature that makes us all pine for what is not, -he grew restive under the iron grip of convention and -felt that he would like to disappear—either into the -wilderness to play at being a savage, or into the shadowy -underworld to taste danger and share the experiences -of men who fight on the farther side of the barricade.</p> - -<p>“You always seem to get ’em, Tom,” he remarked -to the detective in a familiar tone, bred of long acquaintance. -“Just knowing you has made a better man of -me. I’m bound to be good as long as you’re on the -job here; but don’t you ever get tired of the game?”</p> - -<p>“Well, when you’re up against a real proposition -and are fencing with a man who’s as smart as you -are, or smarter, it’s some fun; but most of my cases -lately have been too tame. The sport isn’t what -it was when I started. All the crooks are catalogued -and photographed and dictagraphed these days; and -when you go after ’em you merely send in your card -and call a motor to joy-ride ’em to jail. It’s been a -long time since I was shot at—not since those bill-raisers -down in the Orange County hills soaked me -with buckshot. When they turn a man loose at -Leavenworth we know just about where he will bring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -up and who’s at home to welcome him; and you can -usually calculate pretty well just when he will begin -manufacturing and floating the queer again.”</p> - -<p>“You hang on to the petrified idea that once a crook, -always a crook—no patience with the eminent thinkers -who believe that ‘while the lamp holds out to burn, -the vilest sinner may return?’”</p> - -<p>“Yep—return to jail! Well, I don’t say reform is -impossible; and I’ve let a few get by who did keep -straight. But it’s my business to watch and wait. -My best catches have been through luck as much as -good management—but don’t tell that on me; it would -spoil my reputation.”</p> - -<p>He turned away, glanced across the room and swung -round into his former position with his arm resting on -the railing by Burgess’s desk. He continued talking -as before, but the banker saw that something had -interested him.</p> - -<p>“See that young woman at the paying-teller’s -cage—halfway down the line—slight, trim, with a red -feather in her hat? Take a look.”</p> - -<p>It was nearing the closing hour and long lines had -formed at all the windows. Burgess marked the red -feather without difficulty. As the women patrons of -the bank were accommodated at a window on the -farther side of the lobby he surmised that the young -woman was an office clerk on an errand for her employer. -She was neatly dressed; there was nothing in her appearance -to set her apart from a hundred office girls who -visited the bank daily and stood—just as this young -woman was standing—in the line of bookkeepers -and messengers.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the banker, “what about her?”</p> - -<p>While looking at the girl the detective drew out a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -telegram which he scanned and thrust back into his -pocket.</p> - -<p>“Her mother runs a boarding house, and her father, -Julius Murdock, is a crook—an old yegg—a little -crippled by rheumatism now and out of the running. -But some of the naughty boys passing this way stop -there to rest. The place is—let me see—787 Vevay -Street.”</p> - -<p>Burgess thoughtfully brushed a speck from his coat-sleeve, -then looked up indifferently.</p> - -<p>“So? Hardly a fashionable neighborhood! Is that -what is called a fence?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I believe the police did rip up the boarding -house a while back, but there was nothing doing. -Murdock’s able to make a front without visible means -of support—may have planted enough stuff to retire on. -He’s a sort of financial agent and scout for other crooks. -They’ve been in town only a few months. The old -man must feel pretty safe or he wouldn’t keep his money -in a bank. Nellie, out there, is Murdock’s daughter, -and she’s stenographer for the Brooks Lumber Company, -over near where they live. When I came in -she was at the receiving teller’s window with the lumber -company’s deposit. She’s probably waiting to draw -a little money now for her daddy. He’s one of the -few fellows in his line of business who never goes quite -broke. Just for fun, suppose you see what he has on -the books. If I’m wrong I’ll decline that cigar you’re -going to offer me from the box in your third left-hand -drawer.” The banker scribbled the name on a piece -of paper and sent a boy with it to the head bookkeeper. -“And I’d be amused to know how much Nellie is -drawing for Julius, too, while you’re about it,” added -the detective, who thereupon sat down in one of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -visitors’ chairs inside the railing and became absorbed -in a newspaper.</p> - -<p>Burgess strolled across the lobby, stopping to speak -to acquaintances waiting before the several windows—a -common practice of his at the busy hour. Just behind -the girl in the red hat stood a man he knew well; and -he shook hands and continued talking to him, keeping -pace with his friend’s progress toward the window. -The girl turned round once and looked at him. He had -a very good view of her face, and she was beyond question -a very pretty girl, with strikingly fine gray eyes -and the fresh color of youth. The banker’s friend -had been recounting an amusing story and Burgess -was aware that the girl turned her head slightly to -listen; he even caught a gleam of humor in her eyes. -She wore a plain jacket, a year or two out of fashion, -and the red feather in her cloth hat was not so crisp -as it appeared at a distance. She held a check in her -hand ready for presentation; her gloves showed signs of -wear. There was nothing to suggest that she was -other than a respectable young woman, and the -banker resented the detective’s implication that she -was the daughter of a crook and lived in a house that -harbored criminals. When she reached the window -Burgess, still talking to the man behind her, heard her -ask for ten-dollar bills.</p> - -<p>She took the money and thrust it quickly into a -leathern reticule that swung from her arm. The -banker read the name of the Brooks Lumber Company -on the passbook she held in her hand.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” said Burgess as she stepped away from -the cage——“those are badly worn bills. Let me -exchange them for you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you; but it doesn’t matter,” she said.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>Without parleying he stepped to the exchange -window, which was free at the moment, and spoke to -one of the clerks. The girl opened her reticule and -when he turned round she handed him the bills. While -the clerk went for the new currency Burgess spoke of -the weather and remarked upon the menace of worn -bills to public health. They always meant to give -women fresh bills, he said; and he wished she would -insist upon having them. He was a master of the art of -being agreeable, and in his view it was nothing against -a woman that she had fine eyes and an engaging smile. -Her voice was pleasant to hear and her cheeks dimpled -charmingly when she smiled.</p> - -<p>“All money looks good to me,” she said, thrusting -the new bills into her satchel; “but new money is -certainly nicer. It always seems like more!”</p> - -<p>“But you ought to count that,” Burgess protested, -not averse to prolonging the conversation. “There’s -always the possibility of a mistake.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if there is I’ll come back. You’d remember——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I’d remember,” replied Burgess with a -smile, and then he added hastily: “In a bank it’s our -business to remember faces!”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said the girl, looking down at her reticule.</p> - -<p>Her “oh!” had in it the faintest, the obscurest hint -of irony. He wondered whether she resented the idea -that he would remember her merely because it was a -bank’s business to remember faces. Possibly—but -no! As she smiled and dimpled he put from him the -thought that she wished to give a flirtatious turn to -this slight chance interview there in the open lobby of -his own bank. Reassured by the smite, supported by -the dimples, he said:</p> - -<p>“I’m Mr. Burgess; I work here.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>“Yes, of course—you’re the president. My name -is Nellie Murdock.”</p> - -<p>“You live in Vevay Street?” He dropped his voice. -“I can’t talk to you here, but I’ve been asked to see a -young man named Drake at your house. Please tell -him I’ll be there at five-thirty today. You understand?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, thank you. He hasn’t come yet; but he expected -to get in at five.” Her lips quivered; she gave -him a quick, searching glance, then nodded and walked -rapidly out.</p> - -<p>Burgess spoke to another customer in the line, with -his eyes toward the street, so that he saw the red -feather flash past the window and vanish; then he -strolled back to where the detective sat. On the -banker’s desk, face down, lay the memorandum he -had sent to the bookkeeper. He turned this up, -glanced at it and handed it to Hill.</p> - -<p>“Balance $178.18; Julius Murdock,” Hill read. -“How much did Nellie draw?”</p> - -<p>“An even hundred. I stopped to speak to her a -moment. Nice girl!”</p> - -<p>“Gray eyes, fine teeth, nose slightly snub; laughs -easily and shows dimples. Wears usually a gold chain -with a gold heart-shaped locket—small diamond in -center,” said Hill, as though quoting.</p> - -<p>“Locket—yes; I did notice the locket,” frowned -Burgess.</p> - -<p>“And you didn’t overlook the dimples,” remarked -the detective—“you can’t exactly. By-the-way, you -didn’t change any money for her yourself?”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” asked Burgess with a scowl. -“Wait!” he added as the detective’s meaning dawned -upon him.</p> - -<p>He went back into the cages. The clerk who had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -brought the new bills from the women’s department -found the old ones where they had been tossed aside -by the teller. Burgess carried them to Hill without -looking at them. He did not believe what he knew -the detective suspected, that the girl was bold enough -to try to palm off counterfeit money on a bank—on -the president of a bank. He was surprised to find -that he was really deeply annoyed by the detective’s -manner of speaking of Nellie Murdock. He threw the -bills down on his desk a little spitefully.</p> - -<p>“There you are! That girl took those identical -bills out of her satchel and gave them to me to change -for new ones. She had plenty of time to slip in a bad -bill if she wanted to.”</p> - -<p>Hill turned round to the light, went over the bills -quickly and handed them back to the banker with a -grin.</p> - -<p>“Good as wheat! I apologize. And I want you to -know that I never said she wasn’t a pretty girl. And -the prettiest ones are often the smartest. It does happen -that way sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“You make me tired, Hill. Everybody you see is -crooked. With a man like you there’s no such thing -as presumption of innocence. ’Way down inside of -you you probably think I’m a bit off color too.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say just that!” said the detective, -laughing and taking the cigar Burgess offered him from -a box he produced from his desk. “I must be running -along. You don’t seem quite as cheerful as usual this -morning. I’ll come back tomorrow and see if I can’t -bring in a new story.”</p> - -<p>Burgess disposed of several people who were waiting -to see him, and then took from his drawer the letter -he had been reading when the detective interrupted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -him. It was from Ralph Gordon, a Chicago lawyer, -who was widely known as an authority on penology. -Burgess had several times contributed to the funds of -a society of which Gordon was president, whose function -it was to meet criminals on their discharge from -prison and give them a helping hand upward.</p> - -<p>The banker had been somewhat irritated today by -Hill’s manner of speaking of the criminals against whom -he was pitted; and doubtless Hill’s attitude toward the -young woman he had pointed out as the daughter of a -crook added to the sympathetic fading with which -Burgess took up his friend’s letter for another reading. -The letter ran:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Dear Old Man: You said last fall that you -wished I’d put you in the way of knowing one -of the poor fellows I constantly meet in the -work of our society. I’m just now a good deal -interested in a young fellow—Robert Drake -by name—whose plight appeals to me particularly. -He is the black sheep of a fine family -I know slightly in New England. Drink -was his undoing, and after an ugly scrape in -college he went down fast—<i>facilis descensus</i>; -the familiar story. The doors at home were -closed to him, and after a year or two he fell in -with one of the worst gangs of yeggs in the -country. He was sent up for cracking a safe -in a Southern Illinois post office. The agent -of our society at Leavenworth has had an eye -on him; when he was discharged he came -straight to me and I took him into my house -until we could plan something for him. I -appealed to his family and they’ve sent me -money for his use. He wants to go to the -Argentine Republic—thinks he can make a -clean start down there. But there are difficulties.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -Unfortunately there’s just now an -epidemic of yegging in the Middle West and -all suspects are being gathered in. Of course -Drake isn’t safe, having just done time for a -similar offense. I’ve arranged with Saxby—Big -Billy, the football half-back—you remember -him—to ship Drake south on one of the -Southern Cross steamers. Saxby is, as you -know, manager of the company at New Orleans. -I wanted to send Drake down direct—but -here’s the rub: there’s a girl in Indianapolis -he wants to marry and take along with -him. He got acquainted with her in the underworld, -and her people, he confesses, are a -shady lot. He insists that she is straight, and -it’s for her he wants to take a fresh grip and -begin over again. So tomorrow—that’s January -twenty-third—he will be at her house in -your city, 787 Vevay Street; and he means to -marry her. It’s better for him not to look -you up; and will you, as the good fellow you -are, go to see him and give him cash for the -draft for five hundred dollars I’m inclosing? -Another five hundred—all this from his father—I’m -sending to Saxby to give him in gold -aboard the steamer. Drake believes that in -a new country, with the girl to help him, he -can make good.</p> - -<p>Hoping this isn’t taking advantage of an old -and valued friendship, I am always, dear old -man—</p> -</div> - -<p>Burgess put the letter in his pocket, signed his mail, -entertained in the directors’ room a committee of the -Civic League, subscribed a thousand dollars to a hospital, -said yes or no to a number of propositions, -and then his wife called him on the telephone, with an -intimation that their regular dinner hour was seven.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -She reminded him of this almost daily, as Burgess -sometimes forgot to tell her when he was to dine -downtown.</p> - -<p>“Anybody for dinner tonight?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Web,” she answered in the meek tone she -reserved for such moments as this. “Do I have to -tell you again that this is the day Bishop Gladding is -to be here? He said not to try to meet him, as he didn’t -know what train he’d take from Louisville, but he’d -show up in time for dinner. He wrote he was coming -a week ago, and you said not to ask anybody for -dinner, as you liked to have him to yourself. You -don’t mean to tell me——”</p> - -<p>“No, Gertie; I’ll be there!” and then, remembering -that his too-ready acquiescence might establish a -precedent that would rise up and smite him later, he -added: “But these are busy days; if I should be late -don’t wait for me. That’s the rule, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I should think, Web, when the bishop is an old -friend, and saved your life that time you and Ralph -Gordon were hunting Rocky Mountain sheep with him, -and the bishop nearly died carrying you back to a -doctor—I should think——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll be there,” said Burgess; “but there’s a -friend of Gordon’s in town I’ll have to look up after -a little. No; he hasn’t time to come to the house. -You know how it is, Gertie——”</p> - -<p>She said she knew how it was. These telephonic -colloquies were not infrequent between the Burgesses, -and Mrs. Burgess was not without her provocation. -He resolved to hurry and get through with Gordon’s -man, Drake, the newly freed convict seeking a better -life, that he might not be late to dinner in his own -house, which was to be enlivened by the presence of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -the young, vigorous missionary bishop, who was, moreover, -a sportsman and in every sense a man’s man.</p> - -<p>He put on his ulster, made sure of the five hundred -dollars he had obtained on Gordon’s draft, and at -five-thirty went out to his car, which had waited an -hour.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>A thaw had been in progress during the day and hints -of rain were in the air. The moon tottered drunkenly -among flying clouds. The bank watchman predicted -snow before morning as he bade Burgess good night.</p> - -<p>Burgess knew Vevay Street, for he owned a business -block at its intersection with Senate Avenue. Beyond -the avenue it deteriorated rapidly and was filled with -tenements and cheap boarding houses. Several blocks -west ran an old canal, lined with factories, elevators, -lumber yards and the like, and on the nearer bank was a -network of railroad switches.</p> - -<p>He thought it best not to approach the Murdock -house in his motor; so he left it at the drug-store -corner, and, bidding the chauffeur wait for him, walked -down Vevay Street looking for 787. It was a forbidding -thoroughfare and the banker resolved to complain to -the Civic League; it was an outrage that such Stygian -blackness should exist in a civilized city, and he meant -to do something about it. When he found the number -it proved to be half of a ramshackle two-story double -house. The other half was vacant and plastered with -For Rent signs. He struck a match and read a dingy -card that announced rooms and boarding. The window -shades were pulled halfway down, showing lights in -the front room. Burgess knocked and in a moment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -the door was opened guardedly by a stocky, bearded -man.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Murdock?”</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you want?” growled the man, widening -the opening a trifle to allow the hall light behind -him to fall on the visitor’s face.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be alarmed. A friend of Robert Drake’s -in Chicago asked me to see him. My errand is -friendly.”</p> - -<p>A woman’s voice called from the rear of the hall:</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, dad; let the gentleman in.”</p> - -<p>Murdock slipped the bolt in the door and then -scrutinized Burgess carefully with a pair of small, -keen eyes. As he bent over the lock the banker noted -his burly frame and the powerful arms below his -rolled-up shirtsleeves.</p> - -<p>“Just wait there,” he said, pointing to the front room. -He closed the hall door and Burgess heard his step on -the stairs.</p> - -<p>An odor of stale cooking offended the banker’s -sensitive nostrils. The furniture was the kind he saw -daily in the windows of furniture stores that sell on -the installment plan; on one side was an upright piano, -with its top littered with music. Now that he was in -the house, he wondered whether this Murdock was -after all a crook, and whether the girl with the red -feather, with her candid eyes, could possibly be his -daughter. His wrath against Hill rose again as he -recalled his cynical tone—and on the thought the girl -appeared from a door at the farther end of the room.</p> - -<p>She bade him “Good evening!” and they shook hands. -She had just come from her day’s work at the lumber -company’s office, she explained. He found no reason -for reversing his earlier judgment that she was a very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -pretty girl. Now that her head was free of the hat -with the red feather, he saw that her hair, caught up in -a becoming pompadour, was brown, with a golden -glint in it. Her gray eyes seemed larger in the light of -the single gas-burner than they had appeared by daylight -at the bank. There was something poetic and -dreamy about them. Her age he placed at about half his -own, but there was the wisdom of the centuries in -those gray eyes of hers. He felt young before her.</p> - -<p>“There was a detective in the bank when I was in -there this morning. He knew me,” she said at once.</p> - -<p>“Yes; he spoke of you,” said Burgess.</p> - -<p>“And he knows—what does he know?”</p> - -<p>The girl’s manner was direct; he felt that she was -entitled to a frank response.</p> - -<p>“He told me your father had been—we will say -suspected in times past; that he had only lately come -here; but, unless he deceived me, I think he has no -interest in him just now. The detective is a friend -of mine. He visits the bank frequently. It was just -by chance that he spoke of you.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t tell him that Mr. Gordon had asked you -to come here?”</p> - -<p>“No; Drake wasn’t mentioned.”</p> - -<p>Nellie nodded; she seemed to be thinking deeply. -Her prettiness was enhanced, he reflected, by the few -freckles that clustered about her nose. And he was -ready to defend the nose which the detective, reciting -from his card catalogue, had called snub!</p> - -<p>“Did your friend tell you Bob wants to be married -before he leaves? I suppose you don’t know that?”</p> - -<p>She blushed, confirming his suspicion that it was she -whom Drake was risking arrest to marry.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>“Yes; and if I guess rightly that you’re the girl I’d -like to say that he’s an extremely fortunate young man! -You don’t mind my saying that!”</p> - -<p>He wondered whether all girls who have dimples -blush to attract attention to them. The point interested -Webster G. Burgess. The thought that Nellie -Murdock meant to marry a freshly discharged convict, -no matter how promising he might be, was distasteful -to him; and yet her loyalty and devotion increased his -admiration. There was romance here, and much -money had not hardened the heart of Webster G. -Burgess.</p> - -<p>“It all seems too good to be true,” she said happily, -“that Bob and I can be married after all and go away -into a new world where nobody knows us and he can -start all over again.” And then, coloring prettily: -“We’re all ready to go except getting married—and -maybe you can help us find a minister.”</p> - -<p>“Easily! But I’m detaining you. Better have -Drake come in; I want to speak to him, and then we -can make all the arrangements in a minute.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid he’s been watched; it’s brutal for them -to do that when he’s done his time and means to live -straight! I wonder——” She paused and the indignation -that had flashed out in her speech passed quickly. -“It’s asking a great deal, Mr. Burgess, but would you -let us leave the house with you? The quicker we go -the better—and a man of your position wouldn’t be -stopped. But if you’d rather not——”</p> - -<p>“I was just going to propose that! Please believe -that in every way I am at your service.”</p> - -<p>His spirits were high. It would give edge to the -encounter to lend his own respectability to the flight.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -The idea of chaperoning Nellie Murdock and her -convict lover through an imaginable police picket -pleased him.</p> - -<p>She went out and closed the door. Voices sounded in -the hall; several people were talking earnestly. When -the door opened a man dodged quickly into the room, -the girl following.</p> - -<p>“This is Robert Drake, Mr. Burgess. Bob, this is -the gentleman Mr. Gordon told you about.”</p> - -<p>Burgess experienced a distinct shock of repulsion -as the man shuffled across the room to shake hands. -A stubble of dark beard covered his face, his black -hair was crumpled, and a long bang of it lying across -his forehead seemed to point to his small, shifty blue -eyes. His manner was anxious; he appeared decidedly -ill at ease. Webster G. Burgess was fastidious and -this fellow’s gray suit was soiled and crumpled, and -he kept fingering his collar and turning it up round a -very dirty neck.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir—thank you!” he repeated nervously.</p> - -<p>A door slammed upstairs and the prospective bridegroom -started perceptibly and glanced round. But -Burgess’s philosophy rallied to his support. This -was the fate of things, one of life’s grim ironies—that -a girl like Nellie Murdock, born and reared in the -underworld, should be linking herself to an outlaw. -After all, it was not his affair. Pretty girls in his own -world persisted in preposterous marriages. And Bob -grinned cheerfully. Very likely with a shave and a -bath and a new suit of clothes he would be quite -presentable. The banker had begun to speak of the -route to be taken to New Orleans when a variety of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -things happened so quickly that Burgess’s wits were -put to high tension to keep pace with them.</p> - -<p>The door by the piano opened softly. A voice -recognizable as that of Murdock spoke sharply in a -low tone:</p> - -<p>“Nellie, hit up the piano! Stranger, walk to the -window—slow—and yank the shade! Bob, cut upstairs!”</p> - -<p>These orders, given in the tone of one used to command, -were quickly obeyed. It was in the banker’s -mind the moment he drew down the shade that by some -singular transition he, Webster G. Burgess, had committed -himself to the fortunes of this dubious household. -If he walked out of the front door it would likely -be into the arms of a policeman; and the fact of a man -of his prominence being intercepted in flight from a -house about to be raided would not look well in the -newspapers. Nellie, at the piano, was playing Schubert’s -Serenade—and playing it, he thought, very well. -The situation was not without its humor; and here, -at last, was his chance to see an adventure through. -He heard Bob take the stairs in three catlike jumps. -Nellie, at the piano, said over her shoulder, with Schubert’s -melody in her eyes:</p> - -<p>“This isn’t funny; but they wouldn’t dare touch you! -You’d better camp right here.”</p> - -<p>“Not if I know myself!” said Burgess with decision -as he buttoned his ulster.</p> - -<p>She seemed to accept his decision as a matter of -course and, still playing, indicated the door, still ajar, -through which the disconcerting orders had been -spoken. Burgess stepped into a room where a table -was partly set for supper.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>“This ain’t no place for you, stranger!” said Murdock -harshly. “How you goin’ to get away?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll follow Bob. If he makes it I can.”</p> - -<p>“Humph! This party’s too big now. You ought to -have kept out o’ this.”</p> - -<p>There was a knock at the front door and Murdock -pointed an accusing finger at Burgess.</p> - -<p>“Either set down and play it out or skip!” He -jerked his head toward the stairs. The music ceased -at the knock. “Nellie, what’s the answer?”</p> - -<p>Murdock apparently deferred to Nellie in the crisis; -and as the knock was repeated she said:</p> - -<p>“I’ll get Bob and this gentleman out. Don’t try -to hold the door—let ’em in.”</p> - -<p>Before he knew what was happening, Burgess was at -the top of the stairway, with the girl close at his heels. -She opened a door into a dark room.</p> - -<p>“Bob!” she called.</p> - -<p>“All right!” whispered Drake huskily.</p> - -<p>Near the floor Burgess marked Bob’s position by a -match the man struck noiselessly, shielding it in the -curve of his hand at arm’s length. It was visible for a -second only. Nellie darted lightly here and there in -the dark. A drawer closed softly; Burgess heard the -swish of her jacket as she snatched it up and drew it on. -The girl undoubtedly knew what she was about. Then -a slim, cold hand clutched his in a reassuring clasp. -Another person had entered the room and the doorkey -clicked.</p> - -<p>“Goodby, mother!” Burgess heard the girl whisper.</p> - -<p>The atmosphere changed as the steps of the three -refugees echoed hollowly in an empty room. A door -closed behind them and there was a low rumble as a -piece of furniture was rolled against it. Burgess was -amazed to find how alert all his senses were. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -heard below the faint booming of voices as Murdock -entertained the police. In the pitch-dark he found -himself visualizing the room into which they had passed -and the back stairway down which they crept to the -kitchen of the vacant half of the house. As they paused -there to listen something passed between Drake and -Nellie.</p> - -<p>“Give it to me—quick! I gotta shake that guy!” -Drake whispered hoarsely.</p> - -<p>The girl answered:</p> - -<p>“Take it, but keep still and I’ll get you out o’ this.”</p> - -<p>Burgess thought he had struck at her; but she made -no sign. She took the lead and opened the kitchen -door into a shed; then the air freshened and he felt -rain on his face. They stood still for an instant. -Some one, apparently at the Murdock kitchen door, -beat three times on a tin pan.</p> - -<p>“There are three of them!” whispered Nellie. -“One’s likely to be at the back gate. Take the side -fence!” She was quickly over; and then began a rapid -leaping of the partition fences of the narrow lots of the -neighborhood. At one point Burgess’s ulster ripped on a -nail; at another place he dropped upon a chicken coop, -where a lone hen squawked her terror and indignation. -It had been some time since Webster G. Burgess had -jumped fences, and he was blowing hard when finally they -reached a narrow alley. He hoped the hurdling was at -an end, but a higher barricade confronted them than -the low fences they had already negotiated. Nellie -and Bob whispered together a moment; then Bob -took the fence quickly and silently. Burgess jumped -for the top, but failed to catch hold. A second try -was luckier, but his feet thumped the fence furiously -as he tried to mount.</p> - -<p>“Cheese it on the drum!” said Nellie, and she gave his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -legs a push that flung him over and he tumbled into -the void. “Bob mustn’t bolt; he always goes crazy and -wants to shoot the cops,” he heard her saying, so close -that he felt her breath on his cheek. “I had to give -him that hundred——”</p> - -<p>A man ran through the alley they had just left. -From the direction of Vevay Street came disturbing -sounds as the Murdocks’ neighbors left their supper -tables for livelier entertainment outside.</p> - -<p>“If it’s cops they’ll make a mess of it—I was afraid -it was Hill,” said the girl.</p> - -<p>It already seemed a good deal of a mess to Burgess. -He had got his bearings and knew they were in the huge -yard of the Brooks Lumber Company. Great piles of -lumber deepened the gloom. The scent of new pine -was in the moist air. Nellie was already leading the -way down one of the long alleys between the lumber. -A hinge creaked stridently behind them. The three -stopped, huddled close together. The opaque darkness -seemed now to be diminishing slightly as the moon and -a few frightened stars shone out of the clouds. Then -the blackness was complete again.</p> - -<p>“They’ve struck the yard!” said Nellie. “That was -the Wood Street gate.”</p> - -<p>“If they stop to open gates they’re not much good,” -said the banker largely, in the tone of one who does -not pause for gates.</p> - -<p>The buttons had been snapped from his ulster at -the second fence and this garment now hung loosely -round him, a serious impediment to flight. He made -a mental note to avoid ulsters in future. A nail had -scraped his shin, and when he stopped to rub it he -discovered an ugly rent in his trousers. Nellie kept -moving. She seemed to know the ways of the yard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -and threaded the black lumber alleys with ease. They -were close together, running rapidly, when she paused -suddenly. Just ahead of them in a cross-alley a lantern -flashed. It was the lumber company’s private watchman. -He stopped uncertainly, swung his lantern -into the lane where the trio waited, and hurried on.</p> - -<p>They were halfway across the yard as near as Burgess -could judge, hugging the lumber piles closely and stopping -frequently to listen, when they were arrested by a -sound behind. The moon had again swung free of -clouds and its light flooded the yard. The distance of -half a block behind a policeman stood in the alley they -had just traversed. He loomed like a heroic statue in -his uniform overcoat and helmet. His shout rang -through the yard.</p> - -<p>“Beat it!” cried Nellie.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Nellie was off as she gave the word. They struck a -well-beaten cross-alley—a main thoroughfare of the -yard—and sprinted off at a lively gait. It was in -Burgess’s mind that it was of prime importance that -Drake should escape—it was to aid the former convict -that he had involved himself in this predicament; and -even if the wedding had to be abandoned and the girl -left behind it was better than for them all to be caught. -He was keeping as close as possible to Bob, but the -young man ran with incredible swiftness; and he now -dodged into one of the narrower paths and vanished.</p> - -<p>The yard seemed more intricate than ever with its -network of paths, along which the lumber stacks rose -fantastically. Looking over his shoulder, Burgess -saw that the single policeman had been reenforced by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -another man. It was a real pursuit now—there was no -belittling that fact. A revolver barked and a fusillade -followed. Then the moon was obscured and the -yard was black again. Burgess felt himself jammed in -between two tall lumber piles.</p> - -<p>“Climb! Get on top quick and lie down!”</p> - -<p>Nellie was already mounting; he felt for the strips -that are thrust between planks to keep them from -rotting, grasped them and gained the top. It was a -solid pile and it lifted him twenty feet above the ground. -He threw himself flat just as the pursuers rushed by; -and when they were gone he sat up and nursed his -knees. He marked Nellie’s position by her low laugh. -He was glad she laughed. He was glad she was there!</p> - -<p>Fifty yards away a light flashed—a policeman had -climbed upon a tall pile of lumber and was whipping -about him with a dark lantern.</p> - -<p>“It will take them all night to cover this yard that -way,” she whispered, edging close. “They’re crossing -the yard the way women do when they’re trying -to drive chickens into a coop. They won’t find Bob -unless they commit burglary.”</p> - -<p>“How’s that?” asked Burgess, finding a broken cigar -in his waistcoat pocket and chewing the end.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I gave him the key to the office and told him to -sit on the safe. It’s a cinch they won’t look for him -there; and we’ve got all night to get him out.”</p> - -<p>Burgess was flattered by the plural. Her good -humor was not without its effect on him. The -daughter of the retired yeggman was a new kind of girl, -and one he was glad to add to his collection of feminine -types. He wished she would laugh oftener.</p> - -<p>The president of the White River National Bank, -perched on a pile of lumber on a wet January evening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -with a girl he knew only as his accomplice in an escapade -that it would be very difficult to explain to a -cynical world, reflected that at about this hour his -wife, hardly a mile distant, in one of the handsomest -houses in town, was dressing for dinner to be ready to -greet a guest, who was the most valiant member of -the sedate House of Bishops. And Webster G. Burgess -assured himself that he was not a bit frightened; he -had been pursued by detectives and police and shot at—and -yet he was less annoyed than when the White -River National lost an account, or an ignorant new -member preempted his favorite seat in the University -Club dining room. He had lost both the sense of fear -and the sense of shame; and he marveled at his transformation -and delighted in it.</p> - -<p>“How long will it be before that begins to bore them, -Nellie?” he remarked casually, as though he were -speaking to a girl he had known always, in a cozy -corner at a tea.</p> - -<p>The answer was unexpected and it did not come from -Nellie. He heard the scraping of feet, and immediately -a man loomed against the sky not thirty feet away and -began sweeping the neighboring stacks with an electric -lamp; its rays struck Burgess smartly across the face. -He hung and jumped; and as he let go the light flashed -again and an automatic barked.</p> - -<p>“Lord! It’s Hill!” he gasped.</p> - -<p>As he struck the ground he experienced a curious -tingle on the left side of his head above the ear—it was -as though a hot needle had been drawn across it. The -detective yelled and fired another shot to attract -the attention of the other pursuers. Nellie was already -down and ready for flight. She grasped Burgess’s -arm and hurried him over and between unseen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -obstacles. There seemed to be no method of -locomotion to which he was not urged—climbing, -crawling, running, edging in between seeming Gibraltars -of lumber. From a low pile she leaped to a higher, -and on up until they were thirty feet above the ground; -then it seemed to amuse her to jump from pile to pile -until they reached earth again. Running over uneven -lumber piles in the dark, handicapped by an absurd -ulster, does not make for ease, grace or security—and -wet lumber has a disagreeable habit of being slippery.</p> - -<p>They trotted across an open space and crept under a -shingle shed.</p> - -<p>“Good place to rest,” panted Nellie—and he dropped -down beside her on a bundle of shingles. The rain fell -monotonously upon the low roof of their shelter.</p> - -<p>“That’s a pretty picture,” said the girl dreamily.</p> - -<p>Burgess, breathing like a husky bellows, marveled -at her. What had interested her was the flashing of -electric lamps from the tops of the lumber piles, where -the pursuers had formed a semicircle and were closing -in on the spot where the quarry had disappeared. -They were leaping from stack to stack, shooting their -lamps ahead.</p> - -<p>“The lights dancing round that way are certainly -picturesque,” observed Burgess. “Whistler would -have done a charming nocturne of this. I doubt -whether those fellows know what a charm they impart -to the mystical, moist night. The moving pictures -ought to have this. What’s our next move?” he -asked, mopping his wet face with his handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to get Bob out of the office and then take a -long jump. And right here’s a good time for you to -skedaddle. You can drop into the alley back of this -shed and walk home.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>“Thanks—but nothing like that! I’ve got to see -you married and safely off. I’d never dare look Gordon -in the face if I didn’t.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you were like that,” she said gently, and -his heart bounded at her praise. She stole away into -the shadows, and he stared off at the dancing lights -where the police continued their search.</p> - -<p>Far away the banker saw the aura of the city, and he -experienced again a sensation of protest and rebellion. -He wondered whether this was the feeling of the hunted -man—the man who is tracked and driven and shot at! -He, Webster G. Burgess, had been the target of -a bullet; and, contrary to every rule of the life in -which he had been reared, he was elated to have been -the mark for a detective’s gun. He knew that he -should feel humiliated—that he owed it to himself, -to his wife waiting for him at home, to his friends, to -society itself, to walk out and free himself of the odium -that would attach to a man of his standing who had -run with the hare when his place by all the canons -was with the hounds. And then, too, this low-browed -criminal was not the man for a girl like Nellie to marry—he -could not free himself of that feeling.</p> - -<p>As he pondered this she stole back to his hiding-place. -The ease, lightness and deftness with which she moved -amazed him; he had not known she was near until he -heard Drake’s heavier step beside her.</p> - -<p>“Bob’s here, all right. We must march again,” -she said.</p> - -<p>She explained her plan and the three started off -briskly, reached a fence—the world seemed to be a -tangle of fences!—and dropped over into a coalyard. -Burgess was well muddled again, but Nellie never -hesitated. It had grown colder; heavier clouds had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -drifted across the heavens and snow began to fall. -They reached the farther bound of the coalyard safely; -and as they were about to climb out a dog yelped and -rushed at them.</p> - -<p>“I forgot about that dog! Over, quick! The -watchman for this yard is probably back there playing -with the police, or else he’s hiding himself,” said -Nellie.</p> - -<p>This proved to be the most formidable fence of the -series for Burgess, and his companions got him over -with difficulty just as a dog snapped at his legs. They -landed in a tangle of ice-covered weeds and lay still a -moment. Bob was in bad humor, and kept muttering -and cursing.</p> - -<p>“Chuck it, Bob!” said Nellie sharply.</p> - -<p>They were soon jumping across the railroad switches -and could see the canal stretching toward the city, -marked by a succession of well-lighted bridges.</p> - -<p>“They’ll pinch us here! Nellie, you little fool, if -you hadn’t steered me to that office I’d ’a’ been out -o’ this!”</p> - -<p>He swore under his breath and Burgess cordially -hated him for swearing at the girl. But, beyond doubt, -the pursuers had caught the scent and were crossing -the coalyard. They heard plainly the sounds of men -running and shouting. Bob seized Nellie and there -was a sharp tussle.</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake, trust me, Bob! Take this; don’t -let him have it!” And she thrust a revolver into Burgess’s -hand. “Better be caught than that! Mind the -bank here and keep close together. Good dog—he’s -eating the cops!” And she laughed her delicious -mirthful laugh. A pistol banged and the dog barked -no more.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>The three were now on the ice of the canal, spreading -out to distribute their weight. The day had been -warm enough to soften the ice and it cracked ominously -as the trio sped along. Half a dozen bridges were -plainly in sight toward the city and Burgess got his -bearings again. Four blocks away was his motor -and the big car was worth making a break for at any -hazard. They stopped under the second bridge and -heard the enemy charging over the tracks and out -upon the ice. A patrol wagon clanged on a bridge -beyond the coalyard and a whistle blew.</p> - -<p>A sergeant began bawling orders and half a dozen -men were sent to reconnoiter the canal. As they -advanced they swept the banks with their electric -lamps and conferred with scouts flung along the banks. -The snow fell steadily.</p> - -<p>“We can’t hold this much longer,” said Nellie; -and as she spoke there was a wild shout from the party -advancing over the ice. The lamps of several policemen -shot wildly into the sky and there were lusty bawls for -help.</p> - -<p>“A bunch of fat cops breaking through the ice!” -chuckled the girl, hurrying on.</p> - -<p>They gained a third bridge safely, Nellie frequently -admonishing Bob to stick close to her. It was clear -enough to Burgess that Drake wanted to be rid of him -and the girl and take charge of his own destiny. Burgess -had fallen behind and was feeling his way under -the low bridge; Nellie was ahead, and the two men -were for the moment flung together.</p> - -<p>“Gi’ me my gun! I ain’t goin’ to be pinched this -trip. Gi’ me the gun!”</p> - -<p>“Keep quiet; we’re all in the same boat!” panted -Burgess, whose one hundred and seventy pounds, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -registered on the club scales that very day after luncheon, -had warned him that he was growing pulpy.</p> - -<p>The rails on the bank began to hum, and a switch -engine, picking up cars in the neighboring yards, -puffed along the bank. Burgess felt himself caught -suddenly round the neck and before he knew what -was happening landed violently on his back. He -struggled to free himself, but Bob gripped his throat -with one hand and snatched the revolver from his -pocket with the other. It was all over in a minute. -The rattle of the train drowned the sound of the -attack, and when Nellie ran back to urge them on -Burgess was just getting on his feet and Bob had -vanished.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t stop him—he grabbed the gun and ran,” -Burgess explained. “He must have jumped on that -train.”</p> - -<p>“Poor Bob!” She sighed deeply; a sob broke from -her. Her arms went around Burgess’s neck. “Poor -Bob! Poor old Bob!”</p> - -<p>The locomotive bell clanged remotely. It was very -still, and Mr. Webster G. Burgess, president of the -White River National Bank, stood there under a canal -bridge with the arms of a sobbing girl round his neck! -Under all the circumstances it was wholly indefensible, -and the absurdity of it was not lost upon him. Drake -had bolted, and all this scramble with the ex-convict -and his sweetheart had come to naught.</p> - -<p>“He’ll get away; he was desperate and he didn’t -trust me. He didn’t even wait for the money Gordon -sent me!”</p> - -<p>“Oh!”—she faltered, and her breath was warm on -his cheek—“that wasn’t Drake!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>“It wasn’t Robert Drake?” Burgess blurted. “Not -Drake?”</p> - -<p>“No; it was Bob, my stepbrother. He got into -trouble in Kentucky and came here to hide, and I was -trying to help him; and I’ll miss Robert—and you’ve -spoiled your clothes—and they shot at you!”</p> - -<p>“It was poor shooting,” said Burgess critically as -the red feather brushed his nose; “but we’ve got -to clear out of this or we’ll be in the patrol wagon in -a minute!”</p> - -<p>It was his turn now to take the initiative. His first -serious duty was to become a decent, law-abiding -citizen again, and he meant to effect the transformation -as quickly as possible. He began discreetly by -unclasping the girl’s arms.</p> - -<p>“Stop crying, Nellie—you did the best you could for -Bob; and now we’ll get out of this and tackle Drake’s -case. When that wagon that’s coming has crossed -this bridge we’ll stroll over to Senate Avenue, where -my car’s waiting, and beat it.”</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>The policemen had been pried out of the ice and the -search continued, though the spirit seemed to have -gone out of it. The scouting party had scattered among -the grim factories along the railway tracks. Bob had -presumably been borne out of the zone of danger and -there was nothing more to be done for him.</p> - -<p>They waited to make sure they were not watched -and then crawled up the bank into Vevay Street. The -rapidly falling snow enfolded them protectingly. Now -that life had grown more tranquil Burgess became<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -conscious that the scratch above his left ear had not -ceased tingling. It was with real emotion that Webster -G. Burgess reflected that he had escaped death by a -hairbreadth. He meant to analyze that emotion later -at his leisure. The grazing of his head by that bullet -marked the high moment of his life; the memory of it -would forever be the chief asset among all his experiences. -There was a wet line down his cheek to -his shirt collar that he had supposed to be perspiration; -but his handkerchief now told another story. He -turned up the collar of his buttonless ulster to hide -any tell-tale marks of his sins and knocked his battered -cap into shape. Glancing down at Nellie, he saw that -the red feather had not lost its jauntiness, and she -tripped along placidly, as though nothing unusual had -happened; but as they passed opposite the Murdock -house, where a lone policeman patrolled the walk, her -hand tightened on his arm and he heard her saying, as -though to herself:</p> - -<p>“Goodby, house! Goodby, dad and mother! I’ll -never be back any more.”</p> - -<p>Burgess quickly shut the door of the tonneau upon -Nellie; he had cranked the machine and was drawing on -the chauffeur’s gauntlets, which he had found in the -driver’s seat, when the druggist ran out and accosted -him.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Miller! Seen anything of my chauffeur?”</p> - -<p>“I guess he’s out with the police,” the man answered -excitedly; “they’ve been chasing a bunch o’ crooks over -there somewhere. Two or three people have been shot. -There was a woman mixed up in the scrimmage, but -she got away.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; it was a big fight—a whole gang of toughs! -I took a short dash with the police myself, and fell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -over a dead man and scratched my ear. No, thanks; -I’ll fix it up later. By-the-way, when my man turns -up you might tell him to come home—if that harmonizes -with his own convenience.” He stepped into -the car. “Oh, has the plumber fixed that drain for -you yet? Well, the agent ought to look after such -things. Call me up in a day or two if he doesn’t -attend to it.”</p> - -<p>It was rather cheering, on the whole, to be in the -open again, and he lingered, relishing his freedom, his -immunity from molestation. The very brick building -before which he stood gave him a sense of security; he -was a reputable citizen and property owner—not to be -trifled with by detectives and policemen. A newspaper -reporter whom he knew jumped from a passing street -car, recognized him and asked excitedly where the -bodies had been taken.</p> - -<p>“They’re stacked up like cordwood,” answered -Burgess, “over in the lumber-yard. Some of the cops -went crazy and are swimming in the canal. Young -lady—guest of my wife—and I came over to look after -sick family, and ran into the show. I joined the hunt -for a while, but it wasn’t any good. You’ll find the -survivors camped along the canal bank waiting for -reenforcements.”</p> - -<p>He lighted a cigarette, jumped in and drove the car -toward home for half a dozen blocks—then lowered the -speed so that he could speak to the girl. He was half -sorry the adventure was over; but there yet remained -his obligation to do what he could for Drake—if that -person could be found.</p> - -<p>“You must let me go now,” said Nellie earnestly; -“the police will wake up and begin looking for me, and -you’ve had trouble enough. And it was rotten for me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -to work you to help get Bob off! You’d better have -stayed in the house; but I knew you would help—and -I was afraid Bob would kill somebody. Please let me -out right here!”</p> - -<p>Her hand was on the latch.</p> - -<p>“Oh, never in this world! I have no intention of -letting the police take you—you haven’t done anything -but try to help your brother, like the fine girl you are; -and that’s all over. Where’s Drake?”</p> - -<p>Her gravity passed instantly and her laugh greeted -his ears again. He was running the car slowly along a -curb, his head bent to hear.</p> - -<p>“Listen! Robert telephoned just as I was leaving -the office. I told him to keep away from the house. -When I saw you in the bank I knew Bob was here, but -I thought he’d be out of the way; but he wouldn’t go -until dark, and I would have telephoned you but I was -afraid. I really meant to tell you at the house that -Robert wasn’t there and wouldn’t be there; but Bob -was so ugly I made you go with us, because I wanted -your help. I thought if they nailed us you would pull -Bob through. And now you don’t really mind—do -you?” she concluded tearfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, what about Drake? If he’s still——”</p> - -<p>She bent closer and he heard her murmurous laugh -again.</p> - -<p>“I told Robert I’d meet him at the courthouse—by -the steps nearest the police station—at seven o’clock. -That’s the safest place I could think of.”</p> - -<p>Burgess nodded and the machine leaped forward.</p> - -<p>“We’ve got ten minutes to keep that date, Nellie. -But I’m going to be mighty late for dinner!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>As Nellie jumped from the car at the courthouse a -young man stepped out of the shadows instantly. -Only a few words passed between them. Burgess -opened the door for them and touched his hat as he -snapped on the electric bulb in the tonneau. Glancing -round when he had started the car, Burgess saw that -Drake had clasped Nellie’s hand; and there was a -resolute light in the young man’s eyes—his face had -the convict’s pallor, but he looked sound and vigorous. -On the whole, Robert Drake fulfilled the expectations -roused by Gordon’s letter—he was neatly dressed, and -his voice and manner bespoke the gentleman. One or -two questions put by the banker he answered reassuringly. -He had reached the city at five o’clock and -had not been interfered with in any way.</p> - -<p>As they rolled down Washington Street a patrol -passed them, moving slowly toward the police station. -Burgess fancied there was dejection in the deliberate -course of the wagon homeward, and he grinned to -himself; but when he looked around Nellie’s face was -turned away from the street toward the courthouse -clock, to which she had drawn Drake’s attention as -the wagon passed.</p> - -<p>“Are you and Nellie going to be married? That’s -the first question.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; it’s all on the square. There’s a lawyer -here who got me out of a scrape once and he helped me -get the license. If you’ll take us to a minister—that’s -all we want.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the minister will be easy!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>“Now,” he said as they reached his home, “come -along with me and do exactly what I tell you. And -don’t be scared!”</p> - -<p>The evening had been full of surprises, but he meant -now to cap the series of climaxes, that had mounted -so rapidly, with another that should give perfect symmetry -to the greatest day of his life. They entered -the house through a basement door and gained the -second floor by the back stairs. Nora, his wife’s maid, -came from one of the rooms and he gave her some orders.</p> - -<p>“This is Miss Murdock. She’s just come in from -a long journey and I wish you would help her touch up -a bit. Go into Mrs. Burgess’s room and get anything -you need. Miss Murdock has lost her bag, and has to -be off again in half an hour; so fix up a suitcase for her—you’ll -know how. It will be all right with Mrs. Burgess. -How far’s the dinner got? Just had salad? All right. -Come with me, Drake.”</p> - -<p>In his own dressing room he measured the young -man with his eye. Mindful of Gordon’s injunction -that Drake might be picked up by the police, he went -into the guest-room, tumbled over the effects of the -Bishop of Shoshone and threw out a worn sackcoat, a -clerical waistcoat and trousers, and handed them to -his guest.</p> - -<p>Webster G. Burgess prided himself on being able -to dress in ten minutes; in fifteen on this occasion he -not only refreshed himself with a shower but tended -his bruises and fitted a strip of invisible plaster to the -bullet scratch above his ear. His doffed business suit -and ulster he flung into the laundry basket in the -bathroom; then he went into the guest-room to speak -to Drake.</p> - -<p>“It was bully of you to stand by Nellie in her trouble!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -said Drake with feeling. “I guess you came near -getting pinched.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it was nothing,” remarked Burgess, shooting -his cuffs with the air of a gentleman to whom a brush -with the police is only part of the day’s work.</p> - -<p>“Nellie told me about it, coming up in the machine. -I guess you’re a good sport, all right.”</p> - -<p>Webster G. Burgess was conscious of the ex-convict’s -admiration; he was not only aware that Drake regarded -him admiringly but he found that he was gratified by the -approbation of this man who had cracked safes and -served time for it.</p> - -<p>“Nellie is a great girl!” said Burgess, to change the -subject. “I believe you mean to be good to her. -You’re a mighty lucky boy to have a girl like that -ready to stand by you! Here’s some money Gordon -asked me to give you. And here’s something for -Nellie, a check—one thousand—Saxby will cash it for -you at New Orleans. Please tell your wife tomorrow -that it’s my wife’s little wedding gift, in token of -Nellie’s kindness in keeping me out of jail. Now -where’s that marriage license? Good! There’s a bishop -in this house who will marry you; we’ll go down -and pull it off in a jiffy. Then you can have a nibble -of supper and we’ll take you to the station. There’s -a train for the South at eight-twenty.”</p> - -<p>Nellie was waiting in the hall when they went out. -Nora had dressed her hair, and bestowed upon her a -clean collar and a pair of white gloves. She had exchanged -her shabby, wet tan shoes for a new pair -Mrs. Burgess had imported from New York. The mud -acquired in the scramble through the lumber-yard had -been carefully scraped from her skirt. Voices were -heard below.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>“They’ve just come in from dinner,” said the maid, -“Shall I tell Bridget to keep something for you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—something for three, to be on the table in -fifteen minutes.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mrs. Webster G. Burgess always maintains that -nothing her husband may do can shock her. When her -husband had not appeared at seven she explained to -her guest that he had been detained by an unexpected -meeting of a clearing-house committee, it being no -harder to lie to a bishop than to any one else when a -long-suffering woman is driven to it. She was discussing -with the Bishop of Shoshone the outrageously -feeble support of missionaries in the foreign field when -she heard steps on the broad stair that led down to -the ample hall. A second later her husband appeared -at the door with a young woman on his arm—a young -woman who wore a hat with a red feather. This -picture had hardly limned itself upon her acute intelligence -before she saw, just behind her husband and -the strange girl, a broad-shouldered young clergyman -who bore himself quite as though accustomed to appearing -unannounced in strange houses.</p> - -<p>The banker stepped forward, shook hands with the -bishop cordially, and carried off the introductions -breezily.</p> - -<p>“Sorry to be late, Gertie; but you know how it is!” -Whereas, as a matter of fact, Mrs. Burgess did not -know at all how it was. “Bishop, these young people -wish to be married. Their time is short, as they have -a train to make. Just how they came to be here is a -long story, and it will have to wait. If you see anything -familiar in Mr. Drake’s clothes please don’t be -distressed, I’ve always intended doing something for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -your new cathedral, and you shall have a check and -the price of a new suit early in the morning. And, -Gertie”—he looked at his watch—“if you will find a -prayerbook we can proceed to business.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess always marveled at her husband’s -plausibility, and now she had fresh proof of it. She -blinked as he addressed the girl as Nellie; but this -was just like Web Burgess!</p> - -<p>The Bishop of Shoshone, having married cowboys and -Indians in all manner of circumstances in his rough -diocese, calmly began the service.</p> - -<p>At the supper table they were all very merry except -Nellie, whose face, carefully watched by Mrs. Burgess, -grew grave at times—and once her eyes filled with -tears; her young bridegroom spoke hardly at all. -Burgess and the bishop, however, talked cheerfully of -old times together, and they rose finally amid the -laughter evoked by one of the bishop’s stories. Burgess -said he thought it would be nice if they all went to the -station to give the young people a good sendoff for -their long journey; and afterward they could look in at -a concert, for which he had tickets, and hear Sembrich -sing.</p> - -<p>“After a busy day,” he remarked, meeting Nellie’s -eyes at one of her tearful moments, “there’s nothing -like a little music to quiet the nerves—and this has -been the greatest day of my life!”</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>The president of the White River National Bank -was late in reaching his desk the next morning. When -he crossed the lobby he limped slightly; and his secretary, -in placing the mail before him, noticed a strip<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -of plaster above his left ear. His “Good morning!” -was very cheery and he plunged into work with his -usual energy.</p> - -<p>He had dictated a telegram confirming a bond deal -that would net him fifty thousand dollars, when his -name was spoken by a familiar voice. Swinging round -to the railing with calculated deliberation he addressed -his visitor in the casual tone established by their -intimacy:</p> - -<p>“Hello, Hill—looking for me?”</p> - -<p>“Nope; not yet!”</p> - -<p>Both men grinned as their eyes met.</p> - -<p>“Has the charming Miss Murdock been in this -morning?” asked the detective, glancing toward the -tellers’ cages.</p> - -<p>“Haven’t seen her yet. Hope you’re not infatuated -with the girl.”</p> - -<p>“Only in what you might call an artistic sense; -I think we agreed yesterday that she’s rather pleasing -to the jaded eyesight. See the papers?”</p> - -<p>“What’s in the papers?” asked the banker, feeling -absently for a report a clerk had laid on his desk.</p> - -<p>“Oh, a nice little muss out on Vevay Street last -night! The cops made a mess of it of course. Old -Murdock’s son Bob shot a constable in Kentucky and -broke for the home plate to get some money, and I’d -had a wire to look out for him when I was in here -yesterday. He handled some very clever phony money -in this district a while back. I went out to Vevay -Street to take a look at him—and found the police -had beat me to it! The cash Nellie drew yesterday -was for him.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you got him!”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Hill; “he made a getaway, all right. It -was rather funny though——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>“How funny?”</p> - -<p>“The chase he gave us. You don’t mean you haven’t -heard about it!”</p> - -<p>Burgess clasped his hands behind his head and -yawned.</p> - -<p>“I’ve told you repeatedly, Hill, that I don’t read -criminal news. It would spoil the fun of hearing you -explain your own failures.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I won’t bore you with this. I only want you -to understand that it was the police who made a -fluke of it. But I can’t deny those Murdocks do interest -me a good deal.”</p> - -<p>He bent his keen eyes upon the banker for a second -and grinned. Burgess returned the grin.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to speak before the Civic League on our -municipal government tomorrow night, and I’ll throw -something about the general incompetence of our -police force—it’s undoubtedly rotten!”</p> - -<p>The detective lingered.</p> - -<p>“By-the-way, I nearly overlooked this. Seems to be -a silver card-case, with your name neatly engraved on -the little tickets inside. I picked it up on the ice -last night when I was skating on the canal. I’m -going to keep one of the cards as a souvenir.”</p> - -<p>“Perfectly welcome, Tom. You’d better try one of -these cigars.”</p> - -<p>Hill chose a cigar with care from the extended box -and lighted it. Burgess swung round to his desk, -turned over some letters, and then looked up as though -surprised to find the detective still there.</p> - -<p>“Looking for me, Tom?”</p> - -<p>“No; not yet!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMING</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is not to be counted against Mrs. Robert Fleming -Ward that at forty-five she had begun to look backward -a little wistfully and forward a little disconsolately -and apprehensively. She was a good woman, indeed -one of the best of women, loyal, conscientious and self-sacrificing -in the highest degree. But she was poignantly -aware that certain ambitions dear to her heart -had not been realized. Robert Fleming Ward had -not attained that high place at the Sycamore County -bar which had been his goal, and he seemed unable to -pull himself to the level with Canby Taylor and -Addison Swiggert who practiced in federal jurisdictions -and were not unknown to the docket of the United -States Supreme Court.</p> - -<p>Even as Mrs. Ward was a good woman, so her husband -Robert was a good man and a good lawyer. -But just being good wasn’t getting the Wards anywhere. -At least it wasn’t landing them within the golden -portals of their early dreams. To find yourself marking -time professionally and socially in a town of seventy-five -thousand souls, that you’ve seen grow from twenty-five -thousand, is a disagreeable experience if you are a -sensitive person. And Mrs. Ward was sensitive. -It grieved her to witness the prosperity flaunted by -people like the Picketts, the Shepherds, the Kirbys -and others comparatively new to the community, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -had impudently availed themselves of Sycamore -County’s clay to make brick, and of its water power to -turn the wheels of industries for which the old-time -Kernville pioneer stock had gloomily predicted failure.</p> - -<p>The Picketts, the Shepherds, the Kirbys and the rest -of the new element had builded themselves houses -that were much more comfortable and pleasing to the -eye than the houses of the children and grandchildren -of the old families that had founded Kernville away -back when Madison was president. The heads of the -respective brick, box, match, bottle, canning, and -strawboard industries might be deficient in culture but -they did employ good architects. The Wards lived in -a house of the Queen Anne period, which it had been -necessary to mortgage to send John Marshall through -college and give Helen a year at a Connecticut finishing -school. The Wards’ home had deteriorated to the -point of dinginess, and the dinginess, and the inability -to keep a car, or to return social favors, or belong to -the new country club weighed heavily upon Mrs. Ward.</p> - -<p>Her husband, with all his industry and the fine -talents she knew him to possess, was making no more -money at forty-seven than he had made at thirty-five. -She was a little bewildered to find that socially she -had gradually lost contact with the old aristocracy -without catching step with the flourishing makers of -brick and other articles of commerce that were carrying -the fame of Kernville into new territory. And as -Mrs. Ward was possessed of a pardonable pride, this -situation troubled her greatly. They had been unable -to send John to the Harvard Law School, but he had -made a fine record in the school of the state university, -and his name now appeared beneath his father’s on -the door of the law office on the second floor of the old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -Wheatley block, which had been pretty well deserted -by tenants now that Kernville boasted a modern -ten-story office building.</p> - -<p>John Ward was a healthy, sanguine young fellow -who had every intention of getting on. Some of the -friends he had made in law school threw him some -business, and it was remarked about the courthouse -that John had more punch than his father, and was -bound to succeed. Half way through the trial of a -damage suit in which the firm of Ward & Ward represented -a plaintiff who had been run down by an inter-urban -car, the senior Ward was laid up with tonsilitis, -and John carried the case through and won a verdict -for twice what the plaintiff had been led to believe he -could possibly get.</p> - -<p>Helen Ward was quite as admirable and interesting -as her brother. The finishing school had done her no -harm and she returned to Kernville without airs, -assumptions or affectations, understanding perfectly -that her parents had done the best they could for her. -She was nineteen, tall and straight, fair, with an -abundance of brown hair and blue-gray mirthful eyes. -The growing inability of her mother to maintain a -maid-of-all work, now that Kernville’s eligibles for -domestic service preferred the eight-hour day of the -factories to house work, did not trouble Helen particularly. -She could cook, wash, iron, cut out a dress -and sew it together and if the furniture was wobbly -and the upholstery faded she was an artist with the -glue-pot and her linen covers on the chairs gave the -parlor a fresh smart look. The humor that was denied -their parents was Helen’s and John’s portion in large -measure. They were of the Twentieth Century, -spoke its language and knew all its signs and symbols.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -They were proud of each other, shared their pleasures -and consoled each other in their disappointments, -and resolutely determined to make the best of a world -that wasn’t such a bad place after all.</p> - -<p>John reached home from the office on a day early in -January and found Helen preparing supper.</p> - -<p>“Great scott, sis; has that last girl faded already!”</p> - -<p>“Skipped, vamoosed, vanished!” Helen answered, -looking up from the gas range on which she was broiling -a steak. “The offer of a dollar more a week transferred -her to the Kirby’s, where she’ll have nothing to -do but cook. The joke’s on them. She’s the worst -living cook, and not even a success in hiding her -failures.”</p> - -<p>“I hope,” said John, helping himself to a stalk of -celery and biting it meditatively, “I hope the Kirbys -suffer the most frightful tortures before they die of -indigestion. Haven’t invited us to the party they’re -giving, have they?”</p> - -<p>“Not unless our invitations got lost in the mails. -And I hear it’s going to be a snappy function with the -refreshments and a jazz band imported from Chicago.”</p> - -<p>“Look here, sis, that’s rubbing it in pretty hard! -I don’t care for myself, but it’s nasty of ’em to cut you. -But in a way it’s an act of reprisal. Mother didn’t -ask Mrs. Kirby and Jeannette to the tea she threw for -that national federation swell just before Christmas. -But even at that——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t be so analytical! We’re an old family -and mama refuses to see any merit in people whose -grandparents didn’t settle here before the Indians left. -And as we haven’t the money to train with the ancient -aristocracy, we’ve got to huddle on the sidelines. -Pardon me, dear, but that’s a pound of butter you’re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -about to sit on! You might cut a slice and place it -neatly on yonder plate.”</p> - -<p>“Snobbery!” said John, as he cut the butter with -exaggerated deliberation;—“snobbery is a malady, a -disease. You can’t kill it; you’ve got to feed it its -own kind of pabulum. It’s as plain as daylight that -we’ve got to do something to get out of the hole or -we’re stuck for good.”</p> - -<p>“We might bore for oil in the back yard,” said Helen, -scrutinizing the steak. “If we struck a gusher we -could break into the country club and buy a large -purple limousine like the Kirbys.”</p> - -<p>“My professional engagements don’t exhaust my -brain power at present, and I’m giving considerable -thought to ways and means of improving our state, -condition or status as a family of exalted but unrecognized -merit.”</p> - -<p>“You’re doing nobly, John! Tom Reynolds told me -they were talking of running you for prosecuting attorney. -That would give you a grand boost. And -there’s Alice Hovey,—I understand all about that, -John. I think you’re mistaken about the Hoveys -not liking you.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Alice!” he exclaimed mockingly. “Papa and -mama Hovey have quite other ideas for Alice; no -penniless barrister need apply! But I won’t deny to -you that I’m pretty keen about Alice, only when I go -to the house the fond parents create a low temperature -that is distinctly chilly. Listen to me, Helen,” he -went on with an abrupt change of tone. “You and -Ned Shepherd were hitting it off grandly when something -happened. He’s a fine chap and I rather got the -idea that you two would make a match of it.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>“Oh no!” she protested, quickly but unconvincingly -as she transferred the steak to the platter.</p> - -<p>“His family’s trying to switch him to Sally Pickett. -He hasn’t been here lately, but you do see him occasionally?”</p> - -<p>There were tears in her eyes as she swung round from -the range.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to stop that, John! I’m ashamed of myself -for meeting him as I’ve been doing—walking with him -in the back streets and letting him talk to me over -the telephone when mama isn’t round. I didn’t -know——”</p> - -<p>“Well, I just happened to spot you Monday evening, -and I meant to speak to you about it. Not exactly -nice, sis. I’m sorry about the whole business. Ned’s -really a manly chap, and I don’t believe he’ll be bullied -into giving you up.”</p> - -<p>“All over now, John,” she answered with badly-feigned -indifference.</p> - -<p>“Well, the course of true love never did run smooth. -Father and mother have done their almighty best -for us, but changes have come so fast in this burg they -haven’t been able to keep up with the procession. -Father misses chances now and then, as in refusing -the Pickett case when the State went after him for -polluting the river with refuse from his strawboard mill. -Dad thought the prosecution was justified and foolishly -volunteered to assist the State as a public duty. Pickett -lost and had to spend a lot of money changing his -plant; so he’s knocked us whenever he got a chance.”</p> - -<p>“That’s just like papa. I only wish we could do -something really splendid for him and mama.”</p> - -<p>“We’re going to, sis,” said John confidently. “Take -it from me we’re going to do that identical thing.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -Now give me the potatoes and the coffee-pot. Precede -me with the bread and butter. There’s mother at -the front door now. Step high as to the strains of a -march of triumph. We’ll give a fine exhibition of a -happy family, one for all and all for one!”</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Mrs. Ward, detained by a club committee meeting, -began to apologize for not getting home in time to -assist with the supper.</p> - -<p>“Oh, John did all the heavy work! And we had a -fine talk into the bargain,” Helen replied cheerfully.</p> - -<p>As her father was tired and didn’t know the -latest domestic had departed hence, she went on with -an ironic description of the frailties and incapacity -of that person and pictured the gloom of the Kirbys -as they ate her initial meal. Mrs. Ward had brought -the afternoon mail to the table. She was the corresponding -secretary of a state federation which used the -mails freely. She ate in silence, absorbed in her letters, -while her husband praised Helen’s cooking.</p> - -<p>Ward found a real joy in his children. It was not lost -upon him that they were making the best of circumstances -for which in a somewhat bewildered fashion -he felt himself responsible. Their very kindness, their -disposition to make the best of things, hurt him and -deepened his growing sense of defeat. John began -talking of a case they were to try shortly. He had -found some decisions that supported the contention of -their client. They were explaining it to Helen, who -teased them by perversely taking the opposite view, -when they were silenced by an exclamation from Mrs. -Ward.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>“Here’s news indeed! This is a note from Mrs. -Campbell, the Ruth Sanders who was my best friend at -school,—Mrs. Walter Scott Campbell,” she added -impressively, looking round at them over her glasses. -“It’s short; I’ll just read it:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dearest Iphigenia</span>:—</p> - - -<p>(“You know the girls at Miss Woodburn’s school -always called me Iphigenia—due to a stupid answer I -once gave in the literature class.)</p> - - - -<p>“It’s so sweet of you to remember me year -after year with a Christmas card. The very -thought of you always brings up all the jolly -times we had at Miss Woodburn’s. We -parted with a promise to meet every year; -and I have never set eyes on you since we -sat side by side at the closing exercises! The -class letter doesn’t come around any more, -but your children must be grown up. Mine -are very much so and getting married and -leaving Walter and me quite forlorn.</p> - - -<p>(“Her daughter Angela married into that Thornton -family of Rhode Island—or maybe it was the Connecticut -branch—who are so terribly rich; made it in copper; -no, I believe it was rubber.)</p> - - - -<p>“Don’t be startled, but Mr. Campbell and -I are planning to go to California next month, -and as we have to pass right across your -state, it seems absurd not to stop and see you. -I’ve looked up the timetables and we can -easily leave the Limited at Cleveland and -run down to Kernville. Now don’t go to any -trouble for us, but treat us just as old friends -and if it isn’t convenient to stay with you -for a night—we just must have a night to gossip -about the old days—we can put up at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -hotel. We shan’t leave here until February -17, but wishing to acknowledge your card—I -never can remember to send Christmas cards—I -thought I’d give you fair warning of our -approach. Always, dear Iphigenia, your affectionate,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Ruth</span>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>“That’s a charming letter!” Helen volunteered, as -her mother’s gaze invited approval of Mrs. Campbell’s -graciousness in promising a visit. “She must be -lovely!”</p> - -<p>“Ruth was the dearest of all my girlhood friends! -When she had typhoid and her family were in Europe -I was able to do little things for her;—nothing really -of importance—but she has never forgotten. She was -so appreciative and generous and always wanted her -friends to share her good times!”</p> - -<p>All their lives John and Helen had heard their mother -sing the praises of Mrs. Walter Scott Campbell, née -Sanders, until that lady had assumed something of the -splendor of a mythical figure in their imaginations. -She had been the richest girl in the Hudson River school -Mrs. Ward had attended, and she had married wealth. -The particular Campbell of her choice had inherited a -fortune which he had vastly augmented. When occasionally -a New York newspaper drifted into the house -Mrs. Ward scanned the financial advertisements for -the name of Walter Scott Campbell set out in bold -type as the director of the most august institutions.</p> - -<p>“I suppose——” Mrs. Ward’s tone expressed awe -in all its connotations;—“I suppose Mr. Campbell is -worth fifty million at the lowest calculation. I met -him years ago at one of the school dances. He was -quite wild about Ruth then, and they were married, -John, just a year before we were. I still have the invitation,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -and Ruth sent me a piece of the wedding cake. -And from the photograph she sent me at Christmas -two years ago, I judge that time has dealt lightly -with her.”</p> - -<p>“Campbell’s one of the most important men in Wall -Street,” Ward assented. “One of his institutions, The -Sutphen Loan & Trust, financed the Kernville Water -Power Company, a small item of course for so big a -concern. Campbell probably never heard of it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, men of his calibre usually know where the -dollars go,” said John, whose wits were functioning -rapidly.</p> - -<p>“Of course we simply can’t let them go to the -hotel,” continued Mrs. Ward; “the Kipperly House -is a disgrace. And if Ruth hasn’t changed a lot in -twenty-six years she’ll accept us as she finds us. Our -guest-room needs redecorating, and we can hardly -keep the jackets on the parlor furniture right in the -middle of winter; and the bathroom fixtures ought -to be replaced——”</p> - -<p>She paused, seeing the look of dejection on her husband’s -face. He was well aware that all these things -were old needs which the coming of important guests -now made imperative. Mrs. Ward carefully thrust the -note back into its envelope. John exchanged telegraphic -glances with Helen. His eyes brightened with -the stress of his thoughts but he buttered a bit of -bread before he spoke.</p> - -<p>“Well, mother,” he began briskly, “I’m sure we’re -all tickled that your old friend’s coming. I can just -see you sitting up all night talking of the midnight -spreads you had, and how you fooled the teachers. -Now don’t worry about the house—you or father, -either; I’m going to manage that.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>“But, John, we mustn’t add to your father’s worries. -I realize perfectly that we’re in debt and can’t spend -money we haven’t got. Ruth was always a dear—so -considerate of every one—and we’ll hope it’s me and -my family and not the house she’s coming to see.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, mother, but this strikes me as -something more than a casual visit. I see in it the -hand of Providence!” he cried eagerly.</p> - -<p>“If they carry a maid and valet as part of their -scenery we’re lost—hopelessly lost!” Helen suggested.</p> - -<p>“Oh, not necessarily!” John replied. “We’ll stow -’em away somewhere. In a pinch, you and I can move -to the attic. Anyhow, we’ve got a month to work in. -When we begin to get publicity for the coming of the -rich and distinguished Campbells, I miss my guess if -things don’t begin to look a lot easier.”</p> - -<p>“But, John,” his mother began, shaking her head -with disapproval, “you wouldn’t do anything that -would look—vulgar?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not, but the Sunday <i>Journal’s</i> always -keen for news of impending visitors in our midst, and -no people of the Campbells’ social and financial standing -have ever honored our city with their presence. -The president of the Transcontinental did park his -private car in the yards last summer, but before the -Chamber of Commerce could tackle him about building -a new freight house he faded away.”</p> - -<p>“Walter Scott Campbell is a director in the Transcontinental,” -remarked Mrs. Ward. “I happened to -see his name in the list when I looked up the name of -the company’s secretary to send on the resolutions of -the Women’s Municipal Union complaining of the vile -condition of the depot.”</p> - -<p>“Such matters are never passed on in the New York<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -offices,” Ward suggested mildly. “Our business organizations -have worked on the General Manager for -years without getting anywhere.”</p> - -<p>“Just a word, from a man of Mr. Campbell’s power -will be enough,” replied John spaciously. “For another -thing the train schedule ought to be changed to -give us a local sleeper to Chicago. We’ll stir up the -whole service of the Transcontinental when we get -Walter here!”</p> - -<p>“Walter!” exclaimed Mrs. Ward, aghast at this -familiarity.</p> - -<p>“Better call him Walt, John, to make him feel at -home,” suggested Helen.</p> - -<p>“The directors of the Water Power Company want -to refund their bonds. I suppose Mr. Campbell could -help about that,” Ward remarked, interested in spite -of himself in the potentialities of the impending visit.</p> - -<p>“But it would be a betrayal of hospitality,” Mrs. -Ward protested, “and we mustn’t do anything to spoil -their visit.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that visit’s going to be a great thing for Kernville! -It grows on me the more I think of it,” said -John loftily. “It’s our big chance to do something for -the town. And the Campbells can’t object. They will -pass on, never knowing the vast benefits they have -conferred upon mankind.”</p> - -<p>“Your imagination’s running away with you, John,” -said his father. “With only one day here to renew -their acquaintance with your mother they’ll hardly -care to be dragged through the factories and over the -railway yards.”</p> - -<p>“While mother and Helen are entertaining Mrs. -Campbell, we’ll borrow the largest car in town and -show Walter the sights. And it will be up to us to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -prove to him that Kernville’s the best little town of -the seventy-five thousand class in the whole rich valley -of the Mississippi. All Walter will have to do will be -to send a few wires in a casual manner to the right -parties and everything the town needs will be forthcoming.”</p> - -<p>“But why should we worry about the town when it -isn’t worrying particularly about us?” asked Helen as -she began to clear the table.</p> - -<p>“I don’t quite follow you either,” said his mother. -“You can’t, you really mustn’t——”</p> - -<p>“Such matters are for the male of the species to -grapple with. You and Helen arrange a tea or dinner -or whatever you please, making something small and -select of the function, and I’ll do all the rest.”</p> - -<p>“In some way John and I will manage the money,” -said Mr. Ward, slowly, and then catching a meaningful -look in John’s eyes, he added with unwonted confidence: -“Where there’s a will there’s a way. I want -the Campbells’ visit to be a happy occasion. You are -entitled to it, Margaret—you and Helen must get all -the pleasure possible from meeting a woman of Mrs. -Campbell’s large experience of life.”</p> - -<p>“Mama will need a new frock,” said Helen, a remark -which precipitated at once a lively debate with her -mother as to which—if any item of her existing wardrobe -would lend itself to the process of reconstruction. -This question seemed susceptible of endless discussion, -and was only ended by John’s firm declaration that -there should be new raiment for both his mother and -Helen.</p> - -<p>“Father, we’ll show these upstarts from New York -what real American women are like!”</p> - -<p>“We shall be ruined!” cried Helen tragically, as she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -disappeared through the swing door with a pile of -plates.</p> - -<p>“Please, John, don’t do anything foolish,” his mother -pleaded, but she smiled happily under the compulsion -of his enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“Trust me for that!” he replied, laying his hands on -her shoulders. “We’re all too humble; that’s what’s -the matter with the Ward family. And for once I -want you to step right out!”</p> - -<p>He waved her into the sitting room and darted into -the kitchen, where he threw off his coat and donned -an apron.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>“Crazy! You’ve gone plumb stark crazy!” said -Helen, as she thrust her arms into the dishwater. -“It’s cruel to raise mother’s hopes that way. You -know well enough that as things are going we’re just -about getting by, with the grocery bill two months -behind and that eternal interest on the mortgage hanging -over us like the well-known sword of Damocles.”</p> - -<p>“The sword is in my hands!” declared John, balancing -a plate on the tip of his finger. “How does -that old tune go?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">The Campbells are coming, tra la, tra la,</div> -<div class="verse">The Campbells are coming, tra la!</div> -</div></div> - -<p>There’s a bit of Scotch in us, and I feel my blood tingle -to those blithe martial strains! What’s the rule for -drying dishes, sis? Do you make ’em shine like a collar -from a Chinese laundry, or is the dull domestic finish -in better form?”</p> - -<p>“If you break that plate I’ll poison your breakfast -coffee! If I didn’t know you for a sober boy I’d think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -you’d been keeping tryst with a bootlegger! You don’t -seem to understand that you sat there at the table -spending money like Midas on a spree. You couldn’t -borrow a cent if you tried!”</p> - -<p>“Borrow!” he mocked. “I’m going to pull this -thing off according to specifications, and I’m not going -to borrow a cent. I expect to be refusing offers of -money gently but firmly within a week. Observe my -smoke, dearest one! Watch my fleet sail right up to -the big dam in Sycamore River laden like the ships -of Tarshish that brought gifts of silver and gold and -ivory, apes and peacocks for Solomon’s delight!”</p> - -<p>“You’re not calling the Campbells apes and peacocks!”</p> - -<p>“Not on your life! All those rich treasures will be -yours and mine, O Helen of Kernville! The Campbells -are rich enough. We’re not going to embarrass -them by piling any more wealth on ’em. But the -magic of the name of Walter Scott Campbell, if properly -invoked, manipulated and flaunted will put us all -on the high road to fame and fortune.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll break mama’s heart if you begin bragging -about her acquaintance with this woman she hasn’t -seen for a quarter of a century! She’s already warned -you against vulgar boasting.”</p> - -<p>“Keep mother busy planning for the care and entertainment -of our guests! I’ll hold father steady. This -being Thursday I’ve got time enough to plan the campaign -before Sunday. I’ll lay down a barrage and -throw myself upon the enemy. To the cheering strains -of ‘The Campbells are Coming!’ we’ll cross the valley -of death and plant our flag on the battlements without -a scratch or the loss of a man.”</p> - -<p>By the time the kitchen was in order he had her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -laughing and quite won to his idea that it was perfectly -legitimate to avail themselves fully of the great opportunity -offered by the Campbells’ visit.</p> - -<p>“Nothing undignified at all! The Campbells will -never be conscious of my proceedings as they don’t -read the Kernville papers and will linger only a day. -By the way, it happens that Billy Townley, a fraternity -brother of mine, has just been made city editor -of the <i>Journal</i> and Billy and I used to pull some good -stunts when we were together at the ’varsity. When -I hiss the password in his ear and tell him I’ll need a -little space daily for a few weeks he’ll go right down -the line for me. And the boys on the <i>Evening Sun</i> -are friends of mine, too. They have less space but -they make up for it with bigger headlines.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a dear boy, John, if you are crazy! I believe -you can do most anything you tackle, and I’ll -stand by you whether you land us in jail or in the -poorhouse.”</p> - -<p>“Bully for you, sis!” And then lowering his voice, -“This chance may never come again! I’m going to -wring every possible drop out of it even as you wring -out that dish rag. By-the-way, if it isn’t impertinent, -when did you see Ned last?”</p> - -<p>“Not since the day you saw me walking with him—for -the last time. But he telephoned this afternoon. -He wanted to come up this evening.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s of age and the curfew law can’t touch -him. What was the answer?”</p> - -<p>“I told him I wouldn’t be at home. I’m not going -to have him calling here when his mother barely speaks -to me! Ned didn’t say so, but I suspect she gave him -a good scolding for taking me instead of Sally to the -Seebrings’ dance.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>“How do you get that? If he didn’t tell you——!”</p> - -<p>“Of course not! But Sally had to go with her -mother and there were more girls than men; so Sally -only had about half the dances and the rest of the time -sat on the sidelines with her mother and Mrs. Kirby. -I caught a look now and then that was quite suggestive -of murder in the first degree.”</p> - -<p>“Helen,” said John, lifting his eyes dreamily to the -ceiling, “I’ll wager a diamond tiara against one of -your delicious buckwheat cakes that you and I will -get an invitation to the Kirby party.”</p> - -<p>“Taken! The cards went out yesterday. I met -some of the girls downtown this morning, and they -were buzzing about it.”</p> - -<p>“Let ’em buzz! Ours will probably come special -delivery with a note of explanation that in copying the -list or something of the kind we were regrettably omitted. -And let me see,” he went on, rubbing his chin reflectively, -“I rather think Ned will ask you to go to the -party with him. It occurs to me that old man Shepherd -owns some land he’s trying to sell to the Transcontinental, -and the railway people are shy of it because -it’s below the flood line on our perverse river. Yes; -I think we may jar the Shepherds a little too.”</p> - -<p>“Why, John!” she laughed as she hung up her -apron, “you almost persuade me that you’ve already -got free swing at the Campbell boodle!”</p> - -<p>“I look at it this way, Helen. We can all spend our -own money; it’s getting the benefit of other people’s -money that requires genius. I must now step down -to the public library and to the <i>Journal</i> office to get -some dope on the Campbells. Also I’ll have to sneak -mother’s photograph of Mrs. Campbell out of the -house. A few illustrations will give tone to our publicity -stuff.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>“Be bold, John, but not too bold!”</p> - -<p>“‘The Campbells are coming, tra la!’” he sang -mockingly, and spiking her hands, hummed the air -and danced back and forth across the kitchen. “By -jing, that tune’s wonderful for the toddle!” he cried -exultantly. “We’ll make all Kernville step to it.”</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>“The point we want to hammer in is that we—the -Ward family—are the only people in Sycamore -county who are in touch with the Campbell power, -social and financial,” John elucidated to his friend -Townley. “Modest, retiring to the point of utter -self-effacement as we, the Wards, are, no other family -in the community has ever been honored by a visit -from so big a bunch of assets. And when it comes to -social prominence their coming will link Kernville -right on to Newport where old Walter Scott Campbell -owns one of the lordliest villas. Here’s a picture of -it I found in ‘Summer Homes of Great Americans.’ -We’ll feed in the pictorial stuff from time to time, -using this photograph of Mrs. Campbell mother keeps -on the upright at home, and that cut of Walter Scott -I dug out of your office graveyard. Your record -shows you ran it the time the old money-devil was -indicted under the Sherman law for conspiracy against -the peace and dignity of the United States in a fiendish -attempt to boost the price of bathtubs. The indictment -was quashed as to the said Walter because he was -laid up with whooping cough when the wicked attack -on the free ablutions of the American people was planned -or concocted, and he denied all responsibility for the -acts of his proxy.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got to hand it to that lad,” said Townley<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -ruminatively. “Anything you can do to put me in -the way of a soft snap as private secretary for his -majesty would be appreciated. I’ve had considerable -experience in keeping my friends out of jail and I -might be of use to him.”</p> - -<p>John rose early on Sunday morning to inspect his -handiwork in the section of the <i>Journal</i> devoted to the -goings and comings, the entertainments past and -prospective and the club activities of Kernville. -Townley had eliminated the usual group of portraits -of the brides of the week that Mrs. Walter Scott -Campbell’s handsome countenance might be spread -across three columns in the center of the page. The -photograph of Mrs. Campbell had been admirably -reproduced, and any one informed in such matters -would know instantly that she was the sort of woman -who looks well in evening gowns and that her pearl -necklace was of unquestionable authenticity.</p> - -<p>The usual double column “lead” was devoted wholly -to the announcement of the visit of the Walter Scott -Campbells of New York and Newport to the Robert -Fleming Wards of Kernville, with all biographical -data necessary to establish the Campbells in the minds -of intelligent readers as persons of indubitable eminence -entitled to the most distinguished consideration in -every part of the world. Mrs. Campbell, John had -learned from “Distinguished American Women,” was -a Mayflower descendant, a Colonial Dame and a -Daughter of the Revolution, besides being a trustee of -eighteen separate and distinct philanthropies, and all -these matters were impressively set forth. Mr. Campbell’s -clubs in town and country required ten lines for -their recital. Any jubilation over the coming of so -much magnificence was neatly concealed under the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -generalization that the horizon of Kernville was -rapidly widening and that there was bound to be more -and more communication between New York and -Kernville. Mrs. Ward, the article concluded, had -not yet decided in just what manner she would entertain -for the Campbells, but the representative people of -the city would undoubtedly have an opportunity to -meet her guests.</p> - -<p>“The first gun is fired!” John whispered, thrusting -the paper through Helen’s bed-room door. “Read -and ponder well!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ward read the announcement aloud at the -breakfast table as soberly as though it were a new -constitution for her favorite club.</p> - -<p>“That Miss Givens who does the society news for -the <i>Journal</i> has more sense than I gave her credit for,” -she said. “There isn’t a word in that piece that isn’t -true. But that portrait of Ruth is a trifle too large; -you ought to have warned them about that! When -Tetrazzini sang here they didn’t print her picture half -as big as that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, mother, the <i>Journal</i> simply begged for a -photograph. People of note don’t mind publicity. -They simply eat it up!”</p> - -<p>“Well, the article is really very nice,” said Mrs. -Ward, “but I hope they won’t say anything more until -the Campbells arrive.”</p> - -<p>John, aware that several columns more bearing upon -the Campbell visit were already in type in the <i>Journal</i> -office, was grateful to Helen for changing the subject -to a pertinent discussion of the proper shade of wall -paper for the guest-room.</p> - -<p>On Tuesday the <i>Journal’s</i> first page contained a -news-article on the crying need of enlarged railway<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -facilities, adroitly written to embody the hope of -the transportation committee of the Chamber of Commerce, -that when Mr. Walter Scott Campbell of the -board of directors of the Transcontinental paid his -expected visit to the city he would take steps to change -the reactionary policy of the road’s operating department. -The same article stated with apparent authority -that Robert Fleming Ward, the well-known attorney, -whose guest Mr. Campbell would be, had pledged -himself to assist the mayor and the Chamber of Commerce -to the utmost in urging Kernville’s needs upon -the great capitalist.</p> - -<p>“See here, John, you’ve got to be careful about this -Campbell business!” Mr. Ward’s tone was severe. -“I know without your telling me you inspired that -piece in this morning’s paper. Campbell never saw me -in his life and that article gives the impression that he -and I are old cronies. It’s going to cause us all a lot -of embarrassment. It won’t do!”</p> - -<p>“Sorry if it bothers you, father; but there’s nothing -untrue in that article. You’ll be the only man in -town who can get Campbell’s ear. If he refuses to -interest himself in a new freight house and that sort -of thing, that’s his affair.”</p> - -<p>The stenographer knocked to announce Mr. Pickett.</p> - -<p>“Say to him,” replied John, indifferently, “that we -are in conference but he can see us in just a moment.”</p> - -<p>“Pickett!” exclaimed Ward, senior, as the door -closed. “What on earth brings him here!”</p> - -<p>“The Campbells are coming,” replied John with a -grin. “Pickett’s president of the Water Power Company, -and he wants to line us up to get Campbell -interested in making a new bond deal.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>“Humph! If that’s what he wants I like his nerve. -We don’t even speak when we meet.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll be speaking now! Let’s go out and give him -the glad hand of brotherly greeting.”</p> - -<p>A little diffident at first, Wesley T. Pickett warmed -under the spell of the Wards’ magnanimity.</p> - -<p>“I’ve regretted very much our little differences——” -he began.</p> - -<p>“There’s no feeling on our side at all, Mr. Pickett,” -John declared and his father, a little dazed, murmured -his acquiescence in this view of the matter, and eyed -with interest a formidable bundle of documents in -Pickett’s hands.</p> - -<p>“Fact is,” remarked Pickett, with a sheepish grin as -he re-crossed his legs, “you were dead right on that -matter of the pollution of the river. Swiggert probably -did the best he could with our defense but you were -right when you told me I’d save money and avoid -arousing hostile feeling in the community by pleading -guilty.”</p> - -<p>“It’s always disagreeable to be obliged to tell a -man he hasn’t a good case,” Ward announced.</p> - -<p>“Well, I want you to know I respect you for your -honesty. Swiggert encouraged me to think he might -get us off on some technical defect in the statute, and -it cost me a two thousand dollar fee to find he was -wrong.”</p> - -<p>“The point he raised was an interesting one,” -Ward remarked mildly, “and he might have made it -stick.”</p> - -<p>“But he didn’t!” Pickett retorted a little savagely. -“Now I got a matter I want the God’s truth about, -absolutely. It’s a row I’ve got into with a few of my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -stockholders in the glass company. The fools got the -idea of freezing me out! It’s all in these papers, and -I want you to give it all the time it needs, but I want -an opinion,—no more than you can get on a letter -sheet. Swiggert uses too many words and I’ve got to -have a yes or no.”</p> - -<p>The thought of being frozen out caused Mr. Pickett -to swell with indignation. He turned from father to -son in an unvoiced but eloquent appeal to be saved from -so monstrous and impious an assault upon his dignity.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Mr. Pickett,” said the senior Ward, -accepting the papers. “We’ll be glad to take up the -matter. It’s possible I may have to ask some questions——”</p> - -<p>“That will be all right, Ward! I don’t mind telling -you I’m a good deal worried about this thing. I’m -at the Elks Club most every noon, and if you’ll just -’phone when you’re ready to see me we can have -lunch together. Now, I guess a retainer’s the usual -thing. What do you say to a thousand or two?”</p> - -<p>John with difficulty refrained from screaming that -two would be much more to the taste of the firm, but -his father’s gentle and slightly tremulous murmur that -one thousand would be satisfactory stilled him. The -check written with a flourish, lay on the edge of Ward -senior’s desk while Pickett abused the enemies who -were trying to wrest from him the control of the glass -company.</p> - -<p>“I’m familiar with the general question you indicate,” -said Ward, senior; “I went into it a while back in a -similar case for a client in Newton county; we shall -give it our best attention.”</p> - -<p>“I got confidence in you!” blurted Pickett. “That’s -why I brought the job here.” He thrust a big cigar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -into his mouth and began feeling in his pocket for a -match which John instantly supplied.</p> - -<p>“Notice by the paper,” remarked Pickett, “that -Campbell of the Transcontinental’s comin’ out. If -you could arrange it, I’d like a chance to talk to him -about the Water Power bonds the Sutphen Trust’s -handled for us. I went to New York a couple of -weeks ago to see about refunding and I couldn’t get -near anybody but the fourth vice president. Wouldn’t -want to bother you, but if I could just get a chance at -Campbell and show him the plant——”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure that can be arranged very easily,” John -answered quickly, noting a look of apprehension on his -father’s face. “It will be a pleasure to arrange a -meeting for you.”</p> - -<p>“I’d particularly appreciate it,” said Pickett, shaking -hands with both of them; and John accompanied him -to the head of the stairway, where they shook hands -again.</p> - -<p>“You don’t think,” asked Ward, senior, looking up -from Pickett’s papers, which he had already spread -out on his desk,—“you don’t really think the Campbells -had anything to do with this——”</p> - -<p>“Not a thing, dad!” John replied gayly. “I’ll -just call up Helen and tell her to go ahead with the -redecorating and other things necessary to put our -house in order for royalty!”</p> - -<p>John had deposited Pickett’s check and was crossing -the lobby of the Kernville National when he met -Jason V. Kirby leaving the officers’ corner.</p> - -<p>“Hello, John!” exclaimed the brick manufacturer -affably. “Haven’t seen you round much of late. -Funny I ran into you; just going up to see you. You -know Taylor’s my lawyer, but he’s in Chicago trying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -a long case, and I got an abstract of title I’m in a -hurry to have examined. Glad if you or your father -would pass on it. Farm I’m buying out in Decatur -township.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Mr. Kirby; we can give it immediate -attention,” John replied as though it were a common -occurrence for him to pick up business in this fashion.</p> - -<p>To Kirby’s suggestion that if he didn’t mind he -might walk over to the brick company’s office and get -the abstract, John answered that he didn’t mind in -the least. The abstract was bulky, and John roughly -estimated that a report on it would be worth at least -a hundred dollars. Kirby explained that the land was -needed for the extension of the brick business and that -he had taken a ten-day option to keep a rival company -from picking it up.</p> - -<p>“Look here, John,” remarked Kirby carelessly, as -John started off with the abstract in his pocket, “I see -that the Campbells are coming out to visit your folks. -Don’t let ’em overlook Kirby brick. We’re reachin’ -right out for New York business.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Mr. Kirby. Father has it in mind to -take Mr. Campbell for an inspection of all our industries, -and I’ll give you the tip so you can be all set to -show off your plant.”</p> - -<p>“Occurs to me Campbell might make a short speech -to our workmen; just a nice friendly jolly, you understand.”</p> - -<p>“That will be perfectly simple, Mr. Kirby. Trust -me to arrange it.”</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>When John and his father reached home, Helen fell -upon her brother’s neck.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>“I’ve lost that wager! We’re invited!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! The poison is at work, is it? Did it come -special post, or did their dusky Senegambian bear the -cards hither upon a golden plate?”</p> - -<p>“Neither! Mrs. Kirby and Jeannette called and -left them personally. I was making bread when -they arrived but I had the presence of mind to shed -my apron on my way to the door to let them in. -Mother was darning socks but she came down and they -stayed so long the bread burned to a cinder.”</p> - -<p>“A few loaves of bread are nothing—nothing!”</p> - -<p>“But, John, dear, I think maybe——” began Mrs. -Ward, uncertainly and paused, noting that her husband -was emptying a satchel of important looking papers as -though he expected to spend the evening at work. -He appeared more cheerful than she had seen him in -years.</p> - -<p>“Better let John have his way,” said Ward, senior. -“The Campbells are driving business into the office -and we’re not going to turn it away.”</p> - -<p>“It’s your ability that’s bringing the business; you’ve -always been a bigger man than Taylor or Swiggert!” -declared Mrs. Ward, when the day’s events had been -explained to her.</p> - -<p>“We’ll pretend that’s it anyhow,” Ward assented. -“There’s a mighty interesting question in that case of -Pickett’s. You may be sure I’m going to give it my -best care.”</p> - -<p>“I’m so proud of you, Robert!”</p> - -<p>“Be proud of John,” he laughed; “the boy’s bound to -make or ruin us in these next few weeks.”</p> - -<p>It was astonishing the number of ways in which -the prospective visit of the Campbells became a matter -of deep concern to Kernville. Billy Townley had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -entered with zest into John’s campaign, and Martin -Cowdery, the owner of the <i>Journal</i> and the congressman -from the district, wired instructions from Washington -to cut things loose on the Campbell visit. Under -the same potent inspiration the <i>Journal’s</i> venerable -editorial writer took a vacation from his regular -business of explaining and defending the proprietor’s -failure to land a fish hatchery for the old Sycamore -district and celebrated the approach of the Campbells -under such captions as “The Dawn of a New Era,” -and “Stand up, Kernville.” He called loudly upon -the mayor, who was not of the <i>Journal’s</i> politics, to -clean the streets that their shameful condition might -not offend the eyes and the nostrils of the man of -millions who was soon to honor the city with his -presence.</p> - -<p>The <i>Sun</i>, not to be outdone, boldly declared that -Campbell was coming to Kernville as the representative -of interests that were seeking an eligible site for a -monster steel casting plant, an imaginative flight that -precipitated a sudden call for a meeting of the Bigger -Kernville Committee of the Chamber of Commerce, -and the expenditure of fifteen dollars with war tax to -wire a set of resolutions to Walter Scott Campbell. A -five-line dispatch in the press report announcing that -Walter Scott Campbell had given half a million toward -the endowment of a hospital in Honolulu was handled -as a local item, quite as though Kernville alone vibrated -to Campbell’s generous philanthropies.</p> - -<p>“Helen, we’ve got ’em going!” John chortled at the -beginning of the second week. “Three automobile -agents have offered me the biggest cars in their show -rooms to carry the Campbells hither and yon. I’m -encouraging competition for the honor. The Chamber<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -of Commerce wants to give a banquet with speeches -and everything for our old friend Walter. Old man -Shepherd climbed our stairs today, risking apoplexy at -every step, to ask as a special favor that the Chamber -be granted this high privilege.”</p> - -<p>“Ned’s asked me to go to the Kirby party with -him,” confessed Helen. “The embargo seems to be -off.”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” cried John dramatically. “Mrs. Hovey called -me up to request my presence at dinner Wednesday -night. Alice has a friend visiting her. Alice with the -hair so soft and so brown, as stated in the ballad, is -the dearest girl in the world next to you, sis; no snobbery -about her; but her mama! Ah, mama has seen a -great light in the heavens!”</p> - -<p>The population of Kernville was now divided into -two classes, those who would in all likelihood be permitted -to meet the Campbells, and those who could -hardly hope for this coveted privilege. The <i>Journal</i> -followed a picture of the Campbells’ Newport villa, -fortified with a glowing description of its magnificence, -with a counterfeit presentment of the <i>White Gull</i>, -which had almost the effect of anchoring the Campbells’ -seagoing yacht in the muddy Sycamore at the -foot of Harrison street.</p> - -<p>“The yacht’s the biggest thing we’ve pulled yet,” -John announced to Helen, a few days after the craft’s -outlines had been made familiar to the <i>Journal’s</i> constituency. -“Since we sprung it our office has drawn -four good cases, not including the collection business -of the Tilford Casket Company, which ought to be -good for a thousand bucks a year if the death rate in -the rich valley of the Sycamore doesn’t go down on us.”</p> - -<p>“It’s wonderful, John!” said Helen, in an awed tone.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -“Mrs. Montgomery spent an hour with mother this -afternoon talking of the good old times, and how all -us old families must stand together, and she insisted -on throwing a tea for Mrs. Campbell—just for our old -friends—you know how she talks! She’d no sooner -rolled away than Mrs. Everett Crawford invaded our -home and interfered terribly with the paper hangers -while she begged to be allowed to give a dinner for -the Campbells in the new home they’ve built with -boodle they’ve made canning our native fruits.”</p> - -<p>“Splendid! There may be some business there before -we get through with it! Young Freddie Crawford -is the gayest of our joy riders, and it would be worth a -big retainer to keep him out of the penal farm.”</p> - -<p>A second stenographer had been established in the -office of Ward & Ward to care for the increased business -when Cowdery left the halls of Congress for a -look at his fences, held conferences with John in an -upper room of the Kipperly House, sacred to political -conspiracy, and caused the <i>Journal</i> forthwith to launch -a boom for John Ward for prosecuting attorney subject -to the decision of the April primaries.</p> - -<p>“Look here, little brother,” said Helen, coming in -from a dance to which Ned Shepherd had taken her, -and finding John in the sitting room at work on one -of the new cases that had been bestowed upon Ward -& Ward, “we’ve got to put on brakes.”</p> - -<p>“What’s troubling you, sis? Isn’t everybody treating -you all right?”</p> - -<p>“A queen couldn’t receive more consideration! But -what’s worrying me is how we’re ever going to satisfy -these silly people. If all the plutocrats in New York -should come to visit us we couldn’t spread them around -in a way to please all our fellow townsmen. We’re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -certainly in the lime light! People were buzzing me -tonight about the prosecutorship—say you’ll win in a -walk. But tell me what you think Cowdery’s going -to expect from you in return. Does he want to shake -the Campbell cherry tree?”</p> - -<p>John eyed her with philosophical resignation.</p> - -<p>“Now that you’ve been enfranchised by the Nineteenth -Amendment to the Constitution of this more or -less free republic, you must learn to view matters with -a mind of understanding. Cowdery hankers for a promotion -to the senate. If the accursed money interests -of the nation are persuaded that he is not a menace -to the angels of Wall street they can sow some seed -over the rich soil of this noble commonwealth -that will be sure to bear fruit. There’s a lot of Eastern -capital invested in the state and a word carelessly -spoken by the right persons, parties or groups in tall -buildings in New York and a substantial corruption -fund sent out from the same quarter will do much to -help Cowdery through the primary. In me, sweet -child, Cowdery sees a young man of great promise, -who can hitch the powerful Campbell to his wagon.”</p> - -<p>“And if you can’t do the hitching——?”</p> - -<p>“Been giving thought to that, sis. Those resolutions -the enterprising Bigger Kernville Committee sent -Campbell annoy me a great deal. We can only hope -that Walter has a sense of humor. The <i>Journal’s</i> got -a new untouched photograph of him from somewhere -and the boy looks cheerful. He has a triple chin and -there are lines around his eyes and mouth that argue -for a mirthful nature. The rest, dearest, is on the -knees of the gods!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span></p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>It was in the third week of Mr. John Marshall -Ward’s vigorous campaign of education that Walter -Scott Campbell, in his office in New York, tossed the -last of the letters he had been answering to his stenographer -and rang for his secretary.</p> - -<p>A pale young man entered and waited respectfully -for the magnate to look up from the newspaper clippings -he was scanning.</p> - -<p>“Parker, where the deuce did you get this stuff?” -Campbell asked.</p> - -<p>“They came in our usual press clipping service. -Your order covers the better papers in the larger towns -where you have interests. It’s not often I find anything -worth showing you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t let me miss anything like this!” replied -Campbell with a chuckle.</p> - -<p>He unfolded a page that had been sent complete, -being indeed the society page of the Kernville <i>Morning -Journal</i> of the previous Sunday. Campbell chuckled -again, much to the relief of the pale secretary, who -feared he might have brought to his employer’s attention -some news of evil omen. Campbell continued to -read, chuckling as he rapidly turned over the cuttings.</p> - -<p>“You look a little run down, Parker,” he remarked -affably. “A change of air would do you good. Give -Miss Calderwood my calendar of appointments and -any data I may need in the next few days, and take -the first train for Kernville. Study this stuff carefully -and find out what it’s all about. There are some resolutions -from the Kernville Chamber of Commerce about -a site for a steel casting plant. Curious about that! -Must have been a leak somewhere. We discussed possible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -locations in that secret conference at Pittsburgh -last week, but Kernville wasn’t mentioned. But that -town, with its water power, might possibly be just -right. Give it a looking over, but be very guarded in -all your inquiries. And learn all you can about these -Wards, father and son.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr. Campbell,” and Parker glanced at his -watch.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Ward is an old friend of Mrs. Campbell—you -understand. There’s an old attachment and an -obligation, as I remember. Mrs. Ward was exceedingly -kind to Mrs. Campbell back in their school-days -when my wife was ill. She has never forgotten it.”</p> - -<p>“My inquiries as to the Wards are to be made in -a sympathetic spirit? I understand, sir!”</p> - -<p>“We are scheduled to stop at Kernville for a day -on our way to California—is that right?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr. Campbell. Your car is ordered attached -to the Transcontinental Limited leaving at five twenty-one -on Tuesday, February seventeen.”</p> - -<p>“Take several days to this investigation. Learn -what you can of these people, the town itself and so on. -All this whoop and hurrah out there is unusual. Most -amusing thing that’s turned up since they wanted me -to go out to some town in that neighborhood and preside -at a barbecue. What place was that?”</p> - -<p>“Scottsburg, Indiana, during the campaign of 1916,” -replied the invaluable Parker.</p> - -<p>“A great people, those of the Middle West,” remarked -Mr. Campbell reflectively. “As the phrase -goes, you’ve got to hand it to them. That’s all, -Parker.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elwell Parker had frequently played the role of -confidential investigator for Walter Scott Campbell,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -and established the following evening at the Kipperly -House he began his labors with his usual intelligence, -thoroughness and discretion. Within twenty-four hours -there was little pertaining to the Wards, the social or -business conditions of Kernville that he did not know. -Twenty-four hours more sufficed for his complete enlightenment -as to the thriving city’s advantages as a -manufacturing point, the value and possibilities of its -water power, and the financial and moral status of its -leading citizens. He thereupon wrote a report, condensed -it with faculties that had been trained in the -ways of Walter Scott Campbell, and then imparted it -by telephone to the magnate.</p> - -<p>The famous Campbell chuckle rewarded the secretary -several times. The idea that the son of his wife’s -quondam schoolmate was shaking the foundations of -Kernville to bring the inhabitants to a realization of -the high condescension of the Walter Scott Campbells -in visiting their city with resulting benefits to the firm -of Ward & Ward, tickled Walter Scott enormously.</p> - -<p>“Very good, Parker! Come back at your convenience. -Subscribe for the local papers in your name. -We don’t want to overlook anything!”</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>The Campbells’ visit was still ten days distant when -John, rising in the Sycamore Circuit Court to ask for -an injunction against certain persons who were removing -gravel from the pits of a company that had lately -carried its business to Ward & Ward, was interrupted -by the bailiff who handed him a telegram.</p> - -<p>“If your honor please——?” said John, bowing deferentially -toward the person of the court.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>The judge nodded, not a little impressed as the -young attorney tore open the envelope and scanned -the message, which read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Have recommended your firm to certain -corporations in which I am interested to counsel -them in legal and business matters affecting -your city. Please feel no compulsion to accept -their commissions if not wholly agreeable to -you.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">W. S. Campbell.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>John thrust the message carelessly into his trousers’ -pocket, straightened his shoulders and proceeded with -a terse explanation of the injury inflicted upon his -client and the grounds upon which he sought the immediate -relief of a restraining order.</p> - -<p>The order was granted and in the midst of a parley -over the amount of bond to be given by the petitioner -the bailiff delivered into John’s hands three more -telegrams, one from the Sutphen Loan & Trust Company, -another from The Ironsides Steel Casting Company, -another from the general manager of the Transcontinental -Lines west of Buffalo.</p> - -<p>The message of the Sutphen Loan & Trust Company -stated that it was sending an engineer to examine the -plant of the Sycamore Water Power Company and -would appreciate such confidential assistance as Ward -& Ward might give him as to the personnel of the -corporation. One of the vice-presidents of the steel -casting company wished to make an appointment with -Ward & Ward at the earliest date possible, letter of -explanation to follow; matter strictly confidential. -The Transcontinental official would reach Kernville -shortly to take up the matter of certain improvements, -and wished a conservative estimate of the local -needs uninfluenced by the Chamber of Commerce or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -owners of property that might be needed in extensions. -Matter confidential; letter to follow; please wire -answer.</p> - -<p>Ward, senior, with law books overflowing upon the -floor from his desk, heard John’s report of his success -in protecting the gravel pits, read the telegrams, and -asked hoarsely:</p> - -<p>“Are we crazy, John, or has the whole world gone -mad?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the kind! We’ve been discovered; -that’s all! Campbell’s a man of discernment, and he’s -spotted us as the solidest and most trustworthy citizens -and lawyers of the Sycamore valley. Though all -these messages are addressed to me, it’s the brains -of the firm he’s recommending and that’s you. I’m -only the field man and business getter.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly get the business, son! Not -counting anything we may get out of those people -Campbell’s sending us, we’ve got at least twenty-five -thousand dollars’ worth of business on the books -right now!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t look so scared, dad! We’re handling it all -right. Within a week I’ve turned down four divorce -cases and a breach of promise suit with love letters -I’d rejoice to read to a farmer jury! Pick and choose; -that’s our motto! Where are the papers in Shipton -versus Hovey. I’m getting a settlement there that will -save Hovey about ten thousand bucks, and I want to -tell him about it when I go up to see Alice tonight. -I’ll now wire our thanks to Campbell and date up -these people he’s sending to see us. Those wise guys -that run the Chamber of Commerce are going to be -frantic when they find the hope of a bigger Kernville -lies right here in our office.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span></p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>“I never expected a simple tea would cause so much -trouble!” exclaimed Mrs. Ward at the dinner table -five days before the day set for the Campbell visit. -“I’ve simply got to send out the cards tomorrow!”</p> - -<p>“Let me see that list again,” said John. “It’s -first rate as it stands. You’ve put in all our new -clients and that’s the main thing. But if Mrs. Shepherd -is to pour chocolate, you’ll have to affix Mrs. -Hovey to the tea pot to prevent hard feeling. I’ve -got everything all set with Townley to make a big -spread of Helen’s engagement to Ned and mine to -Alice next Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t be too noisy about it,” pleaded Helen. -“Since you began boosting the family I’m ashamed to -look at the papers.”</p> - -<p>“Circulation of both sheets has gone up, sis. Everybody -in the Sycamore valley’s on tip-toe for news of -the Wards and Campbells. Tomorrow the <i>Journal</i> -will print exclusive information from our office that -the mighty Ironsides corporation is to build a plant -here. The happy word that the railroad yards are -to be doubled and the shops enlarged will come from -headquarters, but father will be interviewed to make -sure we get the credit.”</p> - -<p>“I think I understand everything,” said Helen -gazing musingly at the engagement ring of which she -had been the happy possessor for just twenty-four -hours, “except how Mr. Campbell began sending those -important people to you and father. You might -almost think it was a joke of some kind.”</p> - -<p>“The joke certainly isn’t on us! I’ve decided to -turn down the nomination for prosecutor. As things<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -are going I’d be a fool to sacrifice my private practice -for a public job. The general counsel of the Transcontinental’s -feeling us out as to whether we’ll take -the local attorneyship of that rascally corporation. -Canby Taylor’s had it for twenty years, and it would -be some triumph to add it to our string of scalps.”</p> - -<p>The invitation list, rigidly revised and cut to one -hundred, was finally acceptable to all the members of -the family, and Helen and John had begun to address -the envelopes when this task was interrupted by the -delivery of a telegram.</p> - -<p>“It’s for you, mother,” said Helen, taking the envelope -from the capped and aproned housemaid who -had been installed in the household against the coming -of the Campbells.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ward adjusted her glasses and settled herself to -read with the resigned air of one inured to the idea -that telegrams are solely a medium for communicating -bad news.</p> - -<p>“What is it, mother? Somebody dead?” asked -John without looking up from the envelope he was -addressing to The Hon. and Mrs. Addison Swiggert.</p> - -<p>“Worse!” murmured Mrs. Ward, staring vacantly.</p> - -<p>“Nothing can be worse!” ejaculated Helen, catching -the bit of paper as it fell fluttering to the floor. “The -Campbells are not coming!” she gasped.</p> - -<p>“Not coming!” faltered Robert Fleming Ward, -throwing down a brief he was studying.</p> - -<p>“Read it, for heaven’s sake!” commanded John.</p> - -<p>Helen, with difficulty bringing her eyes to meet the -dark tidings, began to read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>So sorry we are obliged to change our plans -and cannot pay you the visit to which we had -looked forward with so much pleasure——</p> -</div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>“It’s horrible! It’s positively tragic,” sobbed Mrs. -Ward, groping for her handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“Hurry on, Helen!” ordered John. “There’s a -lot more of it.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Walter feels that he ought to attend a conference -of Southern bankers unexpectedly called -for February eighteen at Baltimore, and we -are obliged to defer the California trip indefinitely. -However, we are going down in the -yacht and Walter has happily solved the -whole problem by insisting that you all come -to New York and make the cruise with us.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Glory! glory hallelujah!” John shouted.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>The yacht is big enough to be comfortable -for even a poor sailor like me, so we can have -a cosy time together. We want your husband, -son and daughter to come of course, and you -will be our guests throughout the journey. -The Manager of the Transcontinental will put -his private car at your disposal. Do wire at -once that you will come. With much love.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Ruth Campbell.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>“Can you beat it! <i>Can</i> you beat it!” cried John.</p> - -<p>“After all this talk—and the publicity and everything——” -his mother began plaintively.</p> - -<p>“And all these people who’ve brought us business in -the hope of meeting the Campbells and getting favors -from him!” his father added hopelessly.</p> - -<p>“My dear parents!” cried John pleadingly, flinging -up his arm with a dramatic gesture he had found effective -in commanding the attention of juries,—“my -<i>dear</i> parents, nothing could be more fortunate! If -the Campbells had come we’d have been hard put to -please all these people who want the joy of shaking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -big money by the hand. The old boy very shrewdly -switched all these business matters to father and me -to handle so we’ve already got about everything Kernville -needs, and we’ve done it in a way that makes us -the best advertised law firm in the state.”</p> - -<p>“But the humiliation——” his mother began in a -hoarse whisper.</p> - -<p>“Humiliation nothing!” John caught her up. “Don’t -you realize that an announcement that the Campbells -are sending a private car to haul us down to their -yacht will make the biggest hit of all! And you’re -going, mother—and you, Helen; and father’s got to -go, too! You all deserve it, and I’ll stay right here -and bask in the warm radiance of your grandeur while -the <i>White Gull</i> rides the waves.”</p> - -<p>“You think, then, the change won’t ruin <i>everything</i>?” -his mother asked with a gulp.</p> - -<p>“John’s perfectly right!” declared Helen. “The -Campbell name has already worked magic in our lives -and through us done wonders for Kernville. It will -be glorious to sail in a yacht! They didn’t need to -ask us, and nothing could be friendlier or more cordial -than that telegram.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true,” Mr. Ward assented. “But I can’t -possibly leave right now. There’s that Lindley coal -case coming up for trial next week, and John’s not -familiar with it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear father, but when you ask for a postponement -on the perfectly legitimate ground that -Walter Scott Campbell wants you to go yachting with -him, that case will be set forward and you will acquire -much merit in the eyes of the court! You’ll need a -couple of white flannel suits and some rubber-soled -shoes, but you can pick them up in New York. Really<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -this change of plans is the biggest thing of all. Take -this pad, mother, and write your acceptance, carefully -expressing my deep regret that owing to pressure of -professional duties I am unable to leave.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The announcement that Mr. and Mrs. Walter Scott -Campbell had been obliged to postpone their visit to -Mr. and Mrs. Robert Fleming Ward until spring, -but that Mr. and Mrs. Ward and Miss Helen were -to cruise with them in the <i>White Gull</i> did not fail of -the impression which John had predicted such a revelation -would make upon his fellow citizens. A yacht -that would sail the winter seas was a challenge to the -imagination of home-keeping folk whose most daring -adventure upon the deep was an occasional cruise -in an excursion steamer on the Great Lakes.</p> - -<p>Kernville was proud of the Wards, and so many citizens -of both genders expressed their affection with -flowers that the car in which the trio set out for New -York looked like a bridal bower.</p> - -<p>Ned Shepherd and Alice Hovey were at the station -with John to see them off and several hundred other -citizens looked on with mingled emotions of admiration -and envy. The <i>Journal’s</i> photographer caught an -excellent picture of Mrs. Ward and Helen, their arms -full of roses, standing on the rear platform as the train -pulled out.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“That boy of yours,” remarked Walter Scott Campbell, -as he sat with Robert Fleming Ward in the smoking -room of the <i>White Gull</i> as the yacht felt her way cautiously -up Chesapeake Bay,—“That boy must be a -good deal of a lad. Even at long range you can feel his -energy and enterprise.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>“He’s a good boy,” Ward agreed diffidently, “and -full of ginger. I get out of breath trying to keep up -with him.”</p> - -<p>Campbell chuckled. “Knows a chance when he -sees it.” Another Campbell chuckle. “I like youngsters -of that type. He’s profited of course by your -own long experience in the law?”</p> - -<p>“He’s as good a lawyer as I am now—more resourceful, -and a better hand in dealing with people.”</p> - -<p>“That boy knows more than the law,” declared -Campbell with another chuckle. “He knows human -nature!”</p> - -<p>As their eyes met Ward’s face broke into a smile as -he realized that Campbell understood everything, -and was not at all displeased at the outrageous fashion -in which John had used his name.</p> - -<p>“You know of Gaspard & Collins, in New York?” -asked the magnate. “They do a good deal of my legal -work. They’re looking for a young man, westerner -preferred, to go into the firm, and it just occurs to me -that your John would just suit them. I can understand -how you would feel about losing him, but it’s a good -opportunity to get in touch with important affairs. -Talk it over with your wife, and if you think well of -the idea you can wire him tomorrow. It’s a fair night; -let’s go on deck and watch the lights.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">ARABELLA’S HOUSE PARTY</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Farrington</span> read the note three times, fished the -discarded envelope out of his wastepaper basket, -scrutinized it thoroughly, and then addressed himself -again to the neat vertical script. What he read was -this:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>If Mr. Farrington will appear at the Sorona -Tea House, on Bayfield Road, near Corydon, -at four o’clock today—Tuesday—the -matter referred to in his reply to our advertisement -may be discussed. We serve only -one client at a time and our consultations -are all strictly confidential.</p> -</div> - -<p>The note was unsigned, and the paper, the taste and -quality of which were beyond criticism, bore no address. -The envelope had not passed through the post office, -but had been thrust by a private messenger into the -R.F.D. box at Farrington’s gate.</p> - -<p>Laurance Farrington had been established in the -Berkshires for a year, and his house in the hills back of -Corydon, with the Housatonic tumbling through his -meadow, had been much described in newspapers -and literary journals as the ideal home for a bachelor -author. He had remodeled an old farmhouse to conform -to his ideas of comfort, and incidentally he maintained -a riding horse, a touring car and a runabout; -and he had lately set up an Airedale kennel.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>He was commonly spoken of as one of the most -successful and prosperous of American novelists. -He not only satisfied the popular taste but he was on -cordial terms with the critics. He was thirty-one, -and since the publication of The Fate of Catherine -Gaylord, in his twenty-fourth year, he had produced -five other novels and a score or more of short stories of -originality and power.</p> - -<p>An enviable man was Laurance Farrington. When -he went back to college for commencement he shared -attention with presidents and ex-presidents; and governors -of states were not cheered more lustily. He -was considered a very eligible young man and he had -not lacked opportunities to marry. His friends marveled -that, with all his writing of love and marriage, -he had never, so far as any one knew, been in love or -anywhere near it.</p> - -<p>As Farrington read his note in the quiet of his study -on this particular morning it was evident that his -good fortune had not brought him happiness. For -the first time he was finding it difficult to write. He -had begun a novel that he believed would prove to -be the best thing he had done; but for three months -he had been staring at blank paper. The plot he had -relied on proved, the moment he began to fit its parts -together, to be absurdly weak; and his characters had -deteriorated into feeble, spineless creatures over whom -he had no control. It was inconceivable that the -mechanism of the imagination would suddenly cease -to work, or that the gift of expression would pass from -him without warning; and yet this had apparently -happened.</p> - -<p>Reading somewhere that Sir Walter Scott had -found horseback riding stimulating to the imagination,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -he galloped madly every afternoon, only to return tired -and idealess; and the invitations of his neighbors to -teas and dinners had been curtly refused or ignored. -It was then that he saw in a literary journal this -advertisement:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Plots Supplied.</span> Authors in need of assistance -served with discretion. Address X Y -Z, care of office, <i>The Quill</i>.</p> -</div> - -<p>To put himself in a class of amateurs requiring help -was absurd, but the advertisement piqued his curiosity. -Baker, the editor of The Quill, wrote him just then to -ask for an article on Tendencies in American Fiction; -and in declining this commission Farrington subjoined -a facetious inquiry as to the advertisement of X Y Z. -In replying, Baker said that copy for the ad had been -left at the business office by a stranger. A formal -note accompanying it stated that a messenger would -call later for answers.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” the editor added jocularly, “this is only -another scheme for extracting money from fledgling -inkslingers—the struggling geniuses of Peoria and -Ypsilanti. You’re a lucky dog to be able to sit on -Olympus and look down at them.”</p> - -<p>Farrington forced his unwilling pen to its task for -another week, hoping to compel the stubborn fountains -to break loose with their old abundance. His critical -faculties were malevolently alert and keen, now that -his creative sense languished. He hated what he -wrote and cursed himself because he could do no better.</p> - -<p>To add to his torture, the advertisement in The -Quill recurred to him persistently, until, in sheer frenzy, -he framed a note to X Y Z—an adroit feeler, which he -hoped would save his face in case the advertisement -had not been put forth in good faith.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>Plots—he wrote—were the best thing he did; and -as X Y Z seemed to be interested in the subject it -might be amusing if not indeed profitable for them to -meet and confer. This was the cheapest bravado; -he had not had a decent idea of any sort for a year!</p> - -<p>X Y Z was nothing if not prompt. The reply, -naming the Sorona Tea House as a rendezvous, could -hardly have reached him sooner; and the fact that it had -been dipped into his mail box unofficially greatly -stimulated his interest.</p> - -<p>The Sorona Tea House stood on a hilltop two miles -from Farrington’s home and a mile from Corydon, his -post office and center of supplies. It had been designed -to lure motorists to the neighborhood in the hope of -interesting them in the purchase of property. It was -off the main thoroughfares and its prosperity had -been meager; in fact, he vaguely remembered that -some one had told him the Sorona was closed. But -this was not important; if closed it would lend itself all -the better to the purposes of the conference.</p> - -<p>He lighted his pipe and tramped over his fields with -his favorite Airedale until luncheon. It was good to -be out-doors; good to be anywhere, in fact, but nailed -to a desk. The brisk October air, coupled with the -prospect of finding a solution of his problems before -the day ended, brought him to a better mood, and he -sat down to his luncheon with a good appetite.</p> - -<p>When three o’clock arrived he had experienced a -sharp reaction. He was sure he was making a mistake; -he was tempted to pack a suitcase and go for a weekend -with some friends on Long Island who had been teasing -him for a visit; but this would not be a decent way to -treat X Y Z, who might be making a long journey to -reach the tea house.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>The question of X Y Z’s sex now became obtrusive. -Was the plot specialist man or woman? The handwriting -in the note seemed feminine and yet it might -have been penned by a secretary. The use of <i>our</i> and -<i>we</i> rather pointed to more than one person. Very -likely this person who offered plots in so businesslike -a fashion was a spectacled professor who had gone -through all existing fiction, analyzing devices and making -new combinations, and would prove an intolerable -bore—a crank probably; possibly an old maid who had -spent her life reading novels and was amusing herself -in her old age by furnishing novelists with ideas. He -smoked and pondered. He was persuaded that he -had made an ass of himself in answering the advertisement -and the sooner he was through with the business -the better.</p> - -<p>He allowed himself an hour to walk to the Sorona, -and set off rapidly. He followed the road to the hilltop -and found the tea house undeniably there.</p> - -<p>The place certainly had a forsaken look. The -veranda was littered with leaves, the doors and windows -were closed, and no one was in sight. Depression -settled on him as he noted the chairs and tables piled -high in readiness for storing for the winter. He -passed round to the western side of the house, and his -heart gave a thump as he beheld a table drawn close -to the veranda rail and set with a braver showing of -napery, crystal and silver than he recalled from his -few visits to the house in midsummer. A spirit lamp -was just bringing the kettle to the boiling point: it -puffed steam furiously. There were plates of sandwiches -and cakes, cream and sugar, and cups—two cups!</p> - -<p>“Good afternoon, Mr. Farrington! If you’re quite -ready let’s sit down.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>He started, turned round and snatched off his hat.</p> - -<p>A girl had appeared out of nowhere. She greeted -him with a quick nod, as though she had known him -always—as though theirs was the most usual and -conventional of meetings. Then she walked to the -table and surveyed it musingly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t trouble,” she said as he sprang forward -to draw out her chair. “Let us be quite informal; -and, besides, this is a business conference.”</p> - -<p>Nineteen, he guessed—twenty, perhaps; not a day -more. She wore, well back from her face, with its -brim turned up boyishly, an unadorned black velvet -hat. Her hair was brown, and wisps of it had tumbled -down about her ears; and her eyes—they, too, were -brown—a golden brown which he had bestowed on -his favorite heroine. They were meditative eyes—just -such eyes as he might have expected to find in a -girl who set up as a plot specialist. There was a -dimple in her right cheek. When he had dimpled a -girl in a story he bestowed dimples in pairs. Now he -saw the superiority of the single dimple, which keeps -the interested student’s heart dancing as he waits for -its appearance. Altogether she was a wholesome and -satisfying young person, who sent scampering all his -preconceived ideas of X Y Z.</p> - -<p>“I’m so glad you were prompt! I always hate -waiting for people,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I should always have hated myself if I had been -late,” he replied.</p> - -<p>“A neat and courteous retort! You see the tea -house is closed. That’s why I chose it. Rather more -fun anyhow, bringing your own things.”</p> - -<p>They were very nice things. He wondered how she -had got them there.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>“I hope,” he remarked leadingly, “you didn’t -have to bring them far!”</p> - -<p>She laughed merrily at his confusion as he realized -that this was equivalent to asking her where she lived.</p> - -<p>“Let’s assume that the fairies set the table. Do -you take yours strong?”</p> - -<p>He delayed answering that she might poise the -spoonful of tea over the pot as long as possible. Hers -was an unusual hand; in his tales he had tried often -to describe that particular hand without ever quite -hitting it. He liked its brownness—tennis probably; -possibly she did golf too. Whatever sports she affected, -he was quite sure that she did them well.</p> - -<p>“I knew you would like tea, for the people in your -novels drink such quarts; and that was a bully short -story of yours, The Lost Tea Basket—killingly funny—the -real Farrington cleverness!”</p> - -<p>He blinked, knowing how dead the real Farrington -cleverness had become. Her manner was that of any -well-brought-up girl at a tea table, and her attitude -toward him continued to be that of an old acquaintance. -She took him as a matter of course; and though this -was pleasant, it shut the door on the thousand and one -questions he wished to ask her.</p> - -<p>Just now she was urging him to try the sandwiches; -she had made them herself, she averred, and he need -not be afraid of them.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” he suggested with an accession of courage, -“you won’t mind telling me your name.”</p> - -<p>“It was nice of you to come,” she remarked dreamily, -ignoring his question, “without asking for credentials. -I’ll be perfectly frank and tell you that I couldn’t give -you references if you asked for them; you’re my first -client! I almost said patient!” she added laughingly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>“If you had said patient you would have made no -mistake! I’ve been out of sorts—my wits not working -for months.”</p> - -<p>“I thought your last book sounded a little tired,” -she replied. “There were internal evidences of weariness. -You rather worked the long arm of coincidence -overtime, for example—none of your earlier bounce and -zest. Even your last short story didn’t quite get over—a -little too self-conscious probably; and the heroine -must have identified the hero the first time she saw him -in his canoe.”</p> - -<p>She not only stated her criticisms frankly but she -uttered them with assurance, as though she had every -right to pass judgment on his performances. This -was the least bit irritating. He was slightly annoyed—as -annoyed as any man of decent manners dare be at -the prettiest girl who has ever brightened his horizon. -But this passed quickly.</p> - -<p>Not only was she a pretty girl but he became conscious -of little graces and gestures, and of a charming -direct gaze, that fascinated him. And, for all her -youth, she was very wise; he was confident of that.</p> - -<p>“I must tell you that though I had dozens of letters, -yours was the only one that appealed to me. A -majority of them were frivolous, and some were from -writers whose work I dislike. I had a feeling that if -they were played out they never would be missed. -But you were different; you are Farrington, and to -have you fail would be a calamity to American literature.”</p> - -<p>He murmured his thanks. Her sympathetic tone -was grateful to his bruised spirit. He had gone too -far now to laugh away his appeal to her. And as the -moments passed his reliance on her grew.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>They talked of the weather, the hills and the autumn -foliage, while he speculated as to her identity.</p> - -<p>“Of course you know the Berkshires well, Miss——”</p> - -<p>“A man who can’t play a better approach than that -certainly needs help!” she laughed.</p> - -<p>He flushed and stammered.</p> - -<p>“Of course I might have asked you directly if you -lived in the Hills. But let us be reasonable. I’m at -least entitled to your name; without that——”</p> - -<p>“Without it you will be just as happy!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but you don’t mean that you won’t——”</p> - -<p>“That’s exactly what I mean!” She smiled, her -elbows on the table, the slim brown fingers interlaced -under her firm rounded chin.</p> - -<p>“That isn’t fair. You know me; and yet I’m utterly -in the dark as to you——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, names are not of the slightest importance. -Of course X Y Z is rather awkward. Let’s find another -name—something you can call me by as a matter of -convenience if, indeed, we meet again.”</p> - -<p>She bit into a macaroon dreamily while this took -effect.</p> - -<p>“Not meet again!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, of course it’s possible we may not. We -haven’t discussed our business yet; but when we reach -it you may not care for another interview.”</p> - -<p>“On a strictly social basis I can’t imagine myself -never seeing you again. As for my business, let it -go hang!”</p> - -<p>She lifted a finger with a mockery of warning.</p> - -<p>“No business, no more tea; no more anything! -You would hardly call the doctor or the lawyer merely -to talk about the scenery. And by the same token<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -you can hardly take the time of a person in my occupation -without paying for it.”</p> - -<p>“But, Miss——”</p> - -<p>“There you go again! Well, if you must have a -name, call me Arabella! And never mind about ‘Miss-ing’ -me.”</p> - -<p>“You’re the first Arabella I’ve ever known!” he -exclaimed fervidly.</p> - -<p>“Then be sure I’m the last!” she returned mockingly; -then she laughed gayly. “Oh, rubbish! Let’s be -sensible. I have a feeling that the girls in your stories -are painfully stiff, and they’re a little too much alike. -They’re always just coming down from Newport or -Bar Harbor, and we are introduced to them as they -enter their marble palaces on Fifth Avenue and ring -for Walters to serve tea at once. You ought to cut -out those stately, impossible queens and go in for -human interest. I’ll be really brutal and say that -I’m tired of having your heroine pale slightly as her -lover—the one she sent to bring her an orchid known -only to a cannibal tribe of the upper Amazon—appears -suddenly at the door of her box at the Metropolitan, -just as Wolfram strikes up his eulogy of love in Tannhauser. -If one of the cannibals in his war dress should -appear at the box door carrying the lover’s head in a -wicker basket, that would be interesting; but for -Mister Lover to come wearing the orchid in his button-hole -is commonplace. Do you follow me?”</p> - -<p>She saw that he flinched. No one had ever said -such things to his face before.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know the critics praise you for your wonderful -portrait gallery of women, but your girls don’t strike -me as being real spontaneous American girls. Do you -forgive me?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>He would have forgiven her if she had told him she -had poisoned his tea and that he would be a dead man -in five minutes.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” he remarked boldly, “the fact that I -never saw you until today will explain my failures!”</p> - -<p>“A little obvious!” she commented serenely. “But -we’ll overlook it this time. You may smoke if you like.”</p> - -<p>She lighted a match for him and held it to the tip -of his cigarette. This brought him closer to the -brown eyes for an intoxicating instant. Brief as that -moment was, he had detected on each side of her nose -little patches of freckles that were wholly invisible -across the table. He was ashamed to have seen them, -but the knowledge of their presence made his heart -go pitapat. His heart had always performed its physical -functions with the utmost regularity, but as a -center of emotions he did not know it at all. He must -have a care. Arabella folded her hands on the edge of -the table.</p> - -<p>“The question before us now is whether you wish to -advise with me as to plots. Before you answer you -will have to determine whether you can trust me. -It would be foolish for us to proceed if you don’t think -I can help you. On the other hand, I can’t undertake -a commission unless you intrust your case to me fully. -And it wouldn’t be fair for you to allow me to proceed -unless you mean to go through to the end. My -system is my own; I can’t afford to divulge it unless -you’re willing to confide in me.”</p> - -<p>She turned her gaze upon the gold and scarlet foliage -of the slope below, to leave him free to consider. He -was surprised that he hesitated. As an excuse for -tea-table frivolity this meeting was well enough; as a -business proposition it was ridiculous. But this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> -unaccountable Arabella appealed strongly to his -imagination. If he allowed her to escape, if he told -her he had answered the advertisement of X Y Z -merely in jest, she was quite capable of telling him -good-by and slipping away into the nowhere out of -which she had come. No—he would not risk losing -her; he would multiply opportunities for conferences -that he might prolong the delight of seeing her.</p> - -<p>“I have every confidence,” he said in a moment, -“that you can help me. I can tell you in a word the -whole of my trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, if you are quite sure of it,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“The plain truth about me is,” he said earnestly—and -the fear he had known for days showed now in -his eyes——“the fact about me is that I’m a dead one! -I’ve lost my stroke. To be concrete, I’ve broken -down in the third chapter of a book I promised to -deliver in January, and I can’t drag it a line further!”</p> - -<p>“It’s as clear as daylight that you’re in a blue funk,” -she remarked. “You’re scared to death. And that -will never do! You’ve got to brace up and cheer up! -And the first thing I would suggest is——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes!” he whispered eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Burn those three chapters and every note you’ve -made for the book.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve already burned them forty times!” he replied -ruefully.</p> - -<p>“Burn them again. Then in a week, say, if you -follow my advice explicitly, it’s quite likely you’ll -find a new story calling you.”</p> - -<p>“Just waiting won’t do it! I’ve tried that.”</p> - -<p>“But not under my care,” she reminded him with -one of her enthralling smiles. “An eminent writer -has declared that there are only nine basic plots known<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -to fiction; the rest are all variations. Let it be our -affair to find a new one—something that has never -been tried before!”</p> - -<p>“If you could do that you’d save my reputation. -You’d pull me back from the yawning pit of failure!”</p> - -<p>“Cease firing! You’ve been making hard work of -what ought to be the grandest fun in the world. The -Quill had a picture of you planted beside a beautiful -mahogany desk, waiting to be inspired. There’s not -much in this inspiration business. You’ve got to choose -some real people, mix them up and let them go to -it!”</p> - -<p>“But,” Farrington frowned, “how are you ever -going to get them together? You can’t pick out the -interesting people you meet in the street and ask them -to work up a plot for you.”</p> - -<p>“No,” she asserted, “you don’t ask them; you just -make them do it. You see”—taking up a cube of -sugar and touching it to the tip of her tongue—“every -living man and woman, old or young, is bitten with the -idea that he or she is made for adventure.”</p> - -<p>“Rocking-chair heroes,” he retorted, “who’d cry -if they got their feet wet going home from church!”</p> - -<p>“The tamer they are, the more they pine to hear -the silver trumpet of romance under their windows,” -she replied, her eyes dancing.</p> - -<p>He was growing deeply interested. She was no -ordinary person, this girl.</p> - -<p>“I see one obstacle,” he replied dubiously. “Would -you mind telling me just how you’re going to effect -these combinations—assemble the parts, so to speak; -or, in your more poetical manner, make the characters -harken to the silver horn?”</p> - -<p>“That,” she replied readily, “is the easiest part of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -all! You’ve already lost so much time that this is an -emergency case and we’ll call them by telegraph!”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean that—not really!”</p> - -<p>“Just that! We’ll have to decide what combination -would be the most amusing. We should want to bring -together the most utterly impossible people—people -who’d just naturally hate each other if they were left -in the same room. In that way you’d quicken the -action.”</p> - -<p>He laughed aloud at the possibilities; but she went -on blithely:</p> - -<p>“We ought to have a person of national distinction—a -statesman preferred; some one who figures a lot -in the newspapers. Let’s begin,” she suggested, -“with the person in all the United States who has the -least sense of humor.”</p> - -<p>“The competition would be keen for that honor,” -said Farrington, “but I suggest the Honorable Tracy -B. Banning, the solemnest of all the United States -senators—Idaho or Rhode Island—I forget where he -hails from. It doesn’t matter.”</p> - -<p>“I hoped you’d think of him,” she exclaimed, striking -her hands together delightedly.</p> - -<p>“He owns a house—huge, ugly thing—on the other -side of Corydon.”</p> - -<p>“Um! I think I’ve heard of it,” she replied indifferently.</p> - -<p>She drew from her sweater pocket and spread on the -table these articles: a tiny vanity box, a silver-backed -memorandum book, two caramels and the stub of a lead-pencil. -There was a monogram on the vanity box, and -remembering this she returned it quickly to her pocket. -He watched her write the Senator’s name in her book, -in the same vertical hand in which the note making<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -the appointment had been written. She lifted her -head, narrowing her eyes with the stress of thought.</p> - -<p>“If a man has a wife we ought to include her, perhaps.”</p> - -<p>Farrington threw back his head and laughed.</p> - -<p>“Seems to me his wife’s divorcing him—or the other -way round. The press has been featuring them lately.”</p> - -<p>“Representative of regrettable tendency in American -life,” she murmured. “They go down as Mr. and -Mrs.”</p> - -<p>“Now it’s your turn,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Suppose we put in a gay and cheerful character -now to offset the Senator. I was reading the other -day about the eccentric Miss Sallie Collingwood, of -Portland, Maine; she’s rich enough to own a fleet of -yachts, but she cruises up and down the coast in a -disreputable old schooner—has a mariner’s license -and smokes a pipe. Is she selected?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t believe there’s anybody so worth while on -earth!”</p> - -<p>“That’s your trouble!” she exclaimed, as she wrote -the name. “Your characters never use the wrong -fork for the fish course; they’re all perfectly proper -and stupid. Now it’s your turn.”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me,” he suggested, “that you ought -to name all the others. As I think of it, I really don’t -know any interesting people. You’re right about -the tameness of my characters, and my notebooks are -absolutely blank.”</p> - -<p>She merely nodded.</p> - -<p>“Very well; I suppose it’s only fair for me to supply -the rest of the eggs for the omelet. Let me see; there’s -been a good deal in the papers about Birdie Coningsby, -the son of the copper king, one of the richest young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -men in America. I’ve heard that he has red hair, and -that will brighten the color scheme.”</p> - -<p>“Excellent!” murmured Farrington. “He was arrested -last week for running over a traffic cop in New -Jersey. I judge that the adventurous life appeals to -him.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose our Senator represents the state; the -church also should be represented. Why not a clergyman -of some sort? A bishop rather appeals to me; -why not that Bishop of Tuscarora who’s been warning -New York against its sinful ways?”</p> - -<p>“All right. He’s at least a man of courage; let’s -give him a chance.”</p> - -<p>“A detective always helps,” Arabella observed -meditatively.</p> - -<p>“Then by all means put in Gadsby! I’m tired of -reading of his exploits. I think he’s the most conceited -ass now before the public.”</p> - -<p>“Gadsby is enrolled!”</p> - -<p>She held up the memorandum for his inspection.</p> - -<p>“That’s about enough to start things,” she remarked. -“It’s a mistake to have too many characters in a novel. -Of course others may be drawn in—we can count on -that.”</p> - -<p>“But the heroine—a girl that realizes America’s -finest and best——”</p> - -<p>“I think she should be the unknown quantity—left -up in the air. But if you don’t agree with that——”</p> - -<p>“I was thinking,” he said, meeting her eyes, “that -possibly you——”</p> - -<p>One of her most charming smiles rewarded this.</p> - -<p>“As the chief plotter, I must stand on the sidelines -and keep out of it. But if you think——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>“I think,” he declared, “that the plot would be a -failure if you weren’t in it—very much in it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we must pass that. But there might be a -girl of some sort. What would you think of Zaliska?”</p> - -<p>“The dancer! To offset the bishop!”</p> - -<p>The mirth in her eyes kindled a quick response in -his. She laughingly jotted down the name of the -Servian dancer who had lately kicked her way into -fame on Broadway.</p> - -<p>“But do you think,” he interposed, “that the call -of the silver horn is likely to appeal to her? She’d -need a jazz band!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, variety is the spice of adventure! We’ll give -her a chance,” she answered. “I think we have done -well. One name more needs to be inscribed—that of -Laurance Farrington.”</p> - -<p>She lifted her hand quickly as he demurred.</p> - -<p>“You need experiences—adventures—to tone up -your imagination. Perhaps Zaliska will be your fate; -but there’s always the unknown quantity.”</p> - -<p>They debated this at length. He insisted that he -would be able to contribute nothing to the affair; that -it was his lack of ideas which had caused him to appeal -to her for help, and that it would be best for him to -act the role of interested spectator.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, but your objections don’t impress me, -Mr. Farrington. If you’re not in the game you won’t -be able to watch it in all its details. So down you go!”</p> - -<p>For a moment she pondered, with a wrinkling of her -pretty brows, the memorandum before her; then she -closed the book and dropped it into her sweater pocket. -He was immensely interested in her next step, wondering -whether she really meant to bring together the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -widely scattered and unrelated people she had selected -for parts in the drama that was to be enacted for his -benefit.</p> - -<p>She rose so quickly that he was startled, gave a -boyish tug at her hat—there was something rather -boyish about her in spite of her girlishness—and said -with an air of determination:</p> - -<p>“How would Thursday strike you for the first rehearsal? -Very well, then. There may be some difficulty -in reaching all of them by telegraph; but that’s my -trouble. Just where to hold the meeting is a delicate -question. We should have”—she bent her head for -an instant—“an empty house with large grounds; -somewhere in these hills there must be such a place. -You know the country better than I. Maybe——”</p> - -<p>“To give a house party without the owner’s knowledge -or consent is going pretty far; there might be -legal complications,” he suggested seriously.</p> - -<p>“Timidity doesn’t go in the adventurous life. And -besides,” she added calmly, “that matter doesn’t -concern us in the least. If they all get arrested it’s -so much the better for the plot. We can’t hope for -anything as grand as that!”</p> - -<p>“But how about you! What if you should be discovered -and go to jail! Imagine my feelings!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re not to worry about me. That’s my -professional risk.”</p> - -<p>“Then, as to the place, what objection is there to -choosing Senator Banning’s house? He’s in the cast -anyhow. His place, I believe, hasn’t been occupied for -a couple of years. The gates were nailed up the last -time I passed there.”</p> - -<p>She laughed at this suggestion rather more merrily -than she had laughed before.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>“That’s a capital idea! Particularly as we’ve chosen -him for his lack of humor!”</p> - -<p>“If he has any fun in him he’ll have a chance to -show it,” said Farrington, “when he finds his house -filled with people he never saw before.”</p> - -<p>Questions of taste as to this procedure, hanging -hazily at the back of his consciousness, were dispelled -by Arabella’s mirthful attitude toward the plan. He -could hardly tell this joyous young person that it would -be transcending the bounds of girlish naughtiness to -telegraph a lot of people she didn’t know to meet at -the house of a gentleman who enjoyed national fame -for his lack of humor. Arabella would only laugh at -him. The delight that danced in her eyes was infectious -and the spirit of adventure possessed him. He was -impatient for the outcome: still, would she—dared she—do -it?</p> - -<p>She had drawn on a pair of tan gloves and struck -her hands together lightly.</p> - -<p>“This has been the nicest of little parties! I thank -you—the first of my clients! But I must skip!”</p> - -<p>He had been dreading the moment when she might -take it into her head to skip. They had lingered long -and the sun had dropped like a golden ball beyond the -woodland.</p> - -<p>“But you will let me help with the tea things?” he -cried eagerly. “I can telephone from the crossroads -for my machine.”</p> - -<p>She ignored his offer. A dreamy look came into her -eyes.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” she said with the air of a child proposing -a new game, “whether anyone’s ever written a story -about a person—man or girl—who undertakes to find -some one; who seeks and seeks until it’s a puzzling and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -endless quest—and then finds that the quarry is himself—or -herself! Do you care for that? Think it over. I -throw that in merely as a sample. We can do a lot -better than that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you must put it in the bill!”</p> - -<p>“Now,” she said, “please, when you leave, don’t -look back; and don’t try to find me! In this business -who seeks shall never find. We place everything on the -knees of the gods. Thursday evening, at Mr. Banning’s, -at eight o’clock. Please be prompt.”</p> - -<p>Then she lifted her arms toward the sky and cried -out happily:</p> - -<p>“There, sir, is the silver trumpet of romance! I -make you a present of it.”</p> - -<p>He raised his eyes to the faint outline of the new -moon that shone clearly through the tremulous dusk.</p> - -<p>As he looked she placed her hands on the veranda -railing and vaulted over it so lightly that he did not -know she had gone until he heard her laughing as she -sprang away and darted through the shrubbery below.</p> - -<p>From the instant Arabella disappeared Farrington -tortured himself with doubts. One hour he believed -in her implicitly; the next he was confident that she had -been playing with him and that he would never see her -again.</p> - -<p>He rose early Wednesday morning and set out in -his runabout—a swift scouring machine—and covered -a large part of Western Massachusetts before nightfall. -Somewhere, he hoped, he might see her—this amazing -Arabella, who had handed him the moon and run away! -He visited the tea house; but every vestige of their -conference had been removed. He was even unable to -identify the particular table and chairs they had used. -He drove to the Banning place, looked at the padlocked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -gates and the heavily shuttered windows, and hurried -on, torn again by doubts. He cruised slowly through -villages and past country clubs where girls adorned the -landscape, hoping for a glimpse of her. It was the -darkest day of his life, and when he crawled into bed -at midnight he was seriously questioning his own -sanity.</p> - -<p>A storm fell on the hills in the night and the fateful -day dawned cold and wet. He heard the rain on his -windows gratefully. If the girl had merely been making -sport of him he wanted the weather to do its worst. He -cared nothing for his reputation now; the writing of -novels was a puerile business, better left to women -anyhow. The receipt of three letters from editors asking -for serial rights to his next book enraged him. -Idiots, not to know that he was out of the running -forever!</p> - -<p>He dined early, fortified himself against the persistent -downpour by donning a corduroy suit and a -heavy mackintosh, and set off for the Banning place at -seven o’clock. Once on his way he was beset by a fear -that he might arrive too early. As he was to be a -spectator of the effects of the gathering, it would be -well not to be first on the scene. As he passed through -Corydon his engine changed its tune ominously and he -stopped at a garage to have it tinkered. This required -half an hour, but gave him an excuse for relieving his -nervousness by finishing the run at high speed.</p> - -<p>A big touring car crowded close to him, and in response -to fierce honkings he made way for it. His -headlights struck the muddy stern of the flying car and -hope rose in him. This was possibly one of the adventurers -hastening into the hills in response to Arabella’s -summons. A moment later a racing car, running<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -like an express train, shot by and his lamps played on -the back of the driver huddled over his wheel.</p> - -<p>When he neared the Banning grounds Farrington -stopped his car, extinguished the lights and drove it in -close to the fence.</p> - -<p>It was nearly eight-thirty and the danger of being -first had now passed. As he tramped along the muddy -road he heard, somewhere ahead, another car, evidently -seeking an entrance. Some earlier arrival had opened -the gates, and as he passed in and followed the curving -road he saw that the house was brilliantly lighted.</p> - -<p>As he reached the steps that led up to the broad -main entrance he became panic-stricken at the thought -of entering a house the owner of which he did not know -from Adam, on an errand that he felt himself incapable -of explaining satisfactorily. He turned back and was -moving toward the gates when the short, burly figure -of a man loomed before him and heavy hands fell on -his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon!” said Farrington breathlessly. -An electric lamp flashed in his face, mud-splashed from -his drive, and his captor demanded his business. “I -was just passing,” he faltered, “and I thought perhaps——”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you thought perhaps, you can just come up -to the house and let us have a look at you,” said the -stranger gruffly.</p> - -<p>With a frantic effort Farrington wrenched himself -free; but as he started to run he was caught by the -collar of his raincoat and jerked back.</p> - -<p>“None of that now! You climb right up to the house -with me. You try bolting again and I’ll plug you.”</p> - -<p>To risk a bullet in the back was not to be considered -in any view of the matter, and Farrington set off with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -as much dignity as he could assume, his collar tightly -gripped by his captor.</p> - -<p>As they crossed the veranda the front door was -thrown open and a man appeared at the threshold. -Behind him hovered two other persons.</p> - -<p>“Well, Gadsby, what have you found?”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Farrington’s captor with elation, -“that we’ve got the man we’re looking for!”</p> - -<p>Farrington was thrust roughly through the door and -into a broad, brilliantly lighted hall.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Senator Banning was one of the most generously -photographed of American statesmen, and the bewildered -and chagrined Farrington was relieved to find his -wits equal to identifying him from his newspaper -pictures.</p> - -<p>“Place your prisoner by the fireplace, where we can -have a good look at him,” the Senator ordered. “And, -if you please, Gadsby, I will question him myself.”</p> - -<p>Rudely planted on the hearth, Farrington stared -about him. Two of the persons on Arabella’s list had -answered the summons at any rate. His eyes ran over -the others. A short, stout woman, wearing mannish -clothes and an air of authority, advanced and scrutinized -him closely.</p> - -<p>“A very harmless person, I should say,” she commented; -and, having thus expressed herself sonorously, -she sat down in the largest chair in the room.</p> - -<p>The proceedings were arrested by a loud chugging -and honking on the driveway.</p> - -<p>Farrington forgot his own troubles now in the lively -dialogue that followed the appearance on the scene of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -a handsome middle-aged woman, whose face betrayed -surprise as she swept the room with a lorgnette for an -instant, and then, beholding Banning, showed the keenest -displeasure.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to know,” she demanded, “the precise -meaning of this! If it’s a trick—a scheme to compromise -me—I’d have you know, Tracy Banning, that -my opinion of you has not changed since I bade you -farewell in Washington last April.”</p> - -<p>“Before we proceed farther,” retorted Senator Banning -testily, “I should like to ask just how you came -to arrive here at this hour!”</p> - -<p>She produced a telegram from her purse. “Do you -deny that you sent that message, addressed to the -Gassaway House at Putnam Springs? Do you suppose,” -she demanded as the Senator put on his glasses -to read the message, “that I’d have made this journey -just to see you?”</p> - -<p>“Arabella suffering from nervous breakdown; meet -me at Corydon house Thursday evening,” read the -Senator.</p> - -<p>“Arabella ill!” exclaimed the indomitable stout -lady. “She must have been seized very suddenly!”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen Arabella and I never sent you this -telegram,” declared the Senator. “I was brought here -myself by a fraudulent message.” He drew a telegram -from his pocket and read impressively:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Arabella has eloped. Am in pursuit. Meet -me at your house in Corydon Thursday evening.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Sallie Collingwood.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>The stout lady’s vigorous repudiation of this telegram -consumed much time, but did not wholly appease the -Senator. He irritably waved her aside, remarking -sarcastically:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>“It seems to me, Sallie Collingwood, that your presence -here requires some explanation. I agreed to give -you the custody of Arabella while Frances and I were -settling our difficulties, because I thought you had wits -enough to take care of her. Now you appear to have -relinquished your charge, and without giving me any -notice whatever. I had supposed, even if you are my -wife’s sister, that you would let no harm come to my -daughter.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll trouble you, Tracy Banning, to be careful how -you speak to me!” Miss Collingwood replied. “Poor -Arabella was crushed by your outrageous behavior, and -if any harm has come to her it’s your fault. She remained -with me on the <i>Dashing Rover</i> for two weeks; -and last Saturday, when I anchored in Boston Harbor to -file proceedings against the captain of a passenger boat -who had foully tried to run me down off Cape Ann, she -ran away. Last night a telegram from her reached me -at Beverly saying you were effecting a reconciliation -and asking me to be here tonight to join in a family -jollification. Meantime I had wired to the Gadsby -Detective Agency to search for Arabella and asked them -to send a man here.”</p> - -<p>“Reconciliation,” exploded the lady with the lorgnette, -“has never been considered! And if I’ve been -brought here merely to be told that you have allowed -Arabella to walk off your silly schooner into the Atlantic -Ocean——”</p> - -<p>“You may as well calm yourself, Frances. There’s no -reason for believing that either Tracy or I had a thing -to do with this outrage.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Bishop Giddings is with me; he, too, has been -lured here by some one. We met on the train quite by -chance and I shall rely on his protection.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>A black-bearded gentleman, who had followed Mrs. -Banning into the hall and quietly peeled off a raincoat, -was now disclosed in the garb of a clergyman—the -Bishop of Tuscarora, Farrington assumed. He viewed -the company quizzically, remarking:</p> - -<p>“Well, we all seem to be having a good time!”</p> - -<p>“A great outrage has been perpetrated on us,” -trumpeted the Senator. “I’m amazed to see you here, -Bishop. Some lawless person has opened this house and -telegraphed these people to come here. When I found -Gadsby on the premises I sent him out to search the -grounds; and I strongly suspect”—he deliberated and -eyed Farrington savagely—“that the culprit has been -apprehended.”</p> - -<p>A young man with fiery red hair, who had been nervously -smoking a cigarette in the background, now made -himself audible in a high piping voice:</p> - -<p>“It’s a sell of some kind, of course. And a jolly -good one!”</p> - -<p>This provoked an outburst of wrath from the whole -company with the exception of Farrington, who leaned -heavily on the mantel in a state of helpless bewilderment. -These people seemed to be acquainted; not -only were they acquainted but they appeared to be -bitterly hostile to one another.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Banning had wheeled on the red-haired young -man, whom Farrington checked off Arabella’s list as -Birdie Coningsby, and was saying imperiously:</p> - -<p>“Your presence adds nothing to my pleasure. If -anything could increase the shame of my summons -here you most adequately supply it.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Mrs. Banning,” he pleaded; “but it’s -really not my fault. When Senator Banning telegraphed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -asking me to arrive here tonight for a weekend -I assumed that it meant that Arabella——”</p> - -<p>“Before we go further, Tracy Banning,” interrupted -the Senator’s wife, “I want to be sure that your intimacy -with this young scamp has ceased and that this -is not one of your contemptible tricks to persuade me -that he is a suitable man for my child to marry. After -all the scandal we suffered on account of that landgrab -you were mixed up in with old man Coningsby, I -should think you’d stop trying to marry his son to my -poor, dear Arabella!”</p> - -<p>The Bishop of Tuscarora planted a chair behind -Mrs. Banning just in time to save her from falling to -the floor.</p> - -<p>“Somebody has played a trick on all of us,” said -the detective. “My message was sent to my New -York office and said that the Senator wished to see me -here on urgent business. I got that message an hour -after Miss Collingwood’s and I have six men looking -for the lost girl.”</p> - -<p>They compared notes with the result that each -telegram was found to have been sent from a different -railroad station between Great Barrington and Pittsfield. -While this was in progress Farrington felt quite -out of it and planned flight at the earliest moment. -He pricked up his ears, however, as, with a loud laugh, -the Bishop drew out his message and read it with -oratorical effect:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Adventure waits! Hark to the silver bugle! -Meet me at Tracy Banning’s on Corydon -Road via Great Barrington at eight o’clock -Thursday evening.</p> - -<p class="right">X Y Z.</p> -</div> - -<p>Farrington clung to the mantel for physical and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -mental support. His mind was chaos; the Stygian -Pit yawned at his feet. Beyond doubt, his Arabella -of the tea table had dispatched messages to all the -persons on her list; and, in the Bishop’s case at least, -she had given the telegram her own individual touch. -No wonder they were paying no attention to him; the -perspiration was trailing in visible rivulets down his -mud-caked face and his appearance fully justified their -suspicions.</p> - -<p>“All my life,” the Bishop of Tuscarora was explaining -good-humoredly, “I have hoped that adventure would -call me some day. When I got that telegram I heard -the bugles blowing and set off at once. Perhaps if I -hadn’t known Senator Banning for many years, and -hadn’t married him when I was a young minister, -I shouldn’t have started for his house so gayly. Meeting -Mrs. Banning on the train and seeing she was in -great distress, I refrained from showing her my summons. -How could I? But I’m in the same boat with -the rest of you—I can’t for the life of me guess why -I’m here.”</p> - -<p>Farrington had been slowly backing toward a side -door, with every intention of eliminating himself from -the scene, when a heavy motor, which had entered the -grounds with long, hideous honks, bumped into the -entrance with a resounding bang, relieved by the -pleasant tinkle of the smashed glass of its windshield.</p> - -<p>Gadsby, supported by the agile Coningsby, leaped -to the door; but before they could fortify it against -attack it was flung open and a small, light figure landed -in the middle of the room, and a young lady, a very -slight, graceful young person in a modish automobile -coat, stared at them a moment and then burst out -laughing.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>“Zaliska!” screamed Coningsby.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she cried, “that’s what I call some entrance! -Lordy! But I must be a sight!”</p> - -<p>She calmly opened a violet leather vanity box, withdrew -various trifles and made dexterous use of them, -squinting at herself in a mirror the size of a silver -dollar.</p> - -<p>Farrington groaned and shuddered, but delayed his -flight to watch the effect of this last arrival.</p> - -<p>Banning turned on Coningsby and shouted:</p> - -<p>“This is your work! You’ve brought this woman -here! I hope you’re satisfied with it!”</p> - -<p>“My work!” piped Coningsby very earnestly in his -queer falsetto. “I never had a thing to do with it; -but if Zaliska is good enough for you to dine with in -New York it isn’t square for you to insult her here -in your own house.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not insulting her. When I dined with her it -was at your invitation, you little fool!” foamed the -Senator.</p> - -<p>Zaliska danced to him on her toes, planted her tiny -figure before him and folded her arms.</p> - -<p>“Be calm, Tracy; I will protect you!” she lisped -sweetly.</p> - -<p>“Tracy! Tracy!” repeated Mrs. Banning.</p> - -<p>Miss Collingwood laughed aloud. She and the -Bishop seemed to be the only persons present who -were enjoying themselves. Outside, the machine -that had brought Zaliska had backed noisily off the -steps and was now retreating.</p> - -<p>“Oh, cheer up, everybody!” said Zaliska, helping -herself to a chair. “My machine’s gone back to town; -but I only brought a suitcase, so I can’t stay forever.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -By the way, you might bring it in, Harold,” she -remarked to Coningsby with a yawn.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Banning alone seemed willing to cope with her.</p> - -<p>“If you are as French as you look, mademoiselle, I -suppose——”</p> - -<p>“French, ha! Not to say aha! I sound like a -toothpaste all right, but I was born in good old Urbana, -Ohio. Your face registers sorrow and distress, madam. -Kindly smile, if you please!”</p> - -<p>“No impertinence, young woman! It may interest -you to know that the courts haven’t yet freed me of the -ties that bind me to Tracy Banning, and until I get -my decree he is still my husband. If that has entered -into your frivolous head kindly tell me who invited -you to this house.”</p> - -<p>The girl pouted, opened her vanity box, and -slowly drew out a crumpled bit of yellow paper, which -she extended toward her inquisitor with the tips of her -fingers.</p> - -<p>“This message,” Mrs. Banning announced, “was -sent from Berkville Tuesday night.” And then her -face paled. “Incredible!” she breathed heavily.</p> - -<p>Gadsby caught the telegram as it fluttered from her -hand.</p> - -<p>“Read it!” commanded Miss Collingwood.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>“<span class="smcap">Mademoiselle Helene Zaliska</span>,<br /> -     New Rochelle, N. Y.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Everything arranged. Meet me at Senator -Banning’s country home, Corydon, Massachusetts, -Thursday evening at eight.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Alembert Giddings</span>,     <br /> -<i>Bishop of Tuscarora.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>The Bishop snatched the telegram from Gadsby<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -and verified the detective’s reading with unfeigned -astonishment. The reading of this message evoked -another outburst of merriment from Miss Collingwood.</p> - -<p>“Zaliska,” fluted young Coningsby, “how dare -you!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I never take a dare,” said Zaliska. “I guessed -it was one of your jokes; and I always thought it -would be real sporty to be married by a bishop.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Miss Collingwood frigidly, “I suppose -you’ve tried everything else!”</p> - -<p>The Bishop met Mrs. Banning’s demand that he -explain himself with all the gravity his good-natured -countenance could assume.</p> - -<p>“It’s too deep for me. I give it up!” he said. -He crossed to Zaliska and took her hand.</p> - -<p>“My dear young woman, I apologize as sincerely as -though I were the guilty man. I never heard of you -before in my life; and I wasn’t anywhere near Berkville -day before yesterday. The receipt of my own telegram -in New Hampshire at approximately the same hour -proves that irrefutably.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’ll be all right, Bishop,” said Zaliska. -“I’m just as pleased as though you really sent it.”</p> - -<p>Miss Collingwood had lighted her pipe—a performance -that drew from Zaliska an astonished:</p> - -<p>“Well, did you ever! Gwendolin, what have we -here?”</p> - -<p>“What I’d like to know,” cried Mrs. Banning, -yielding suddenly to tears, “is what you’ve done with -Arabella!”</p> - -<p>The mention of Arabella precipitated a wild fusillade -of questions and replies. She had been kidnapped, -Mrs. Banning charged in tragic tones, and Tracy -Banning should be brought to book for it.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>“You knew the courts would give her to me and it -was you who lured her away and hid her. This -contemptible little Coningsby was your ideal of a -husband for Arabella, to further your own schemes -with his father. I knew it all the time! And you -planned to meet him here, with this creature, in your -own house! And he’s admitted that you’ve been -dining with her. It’s too much! It’s more than I -should be asked to suffer, after all—after all—I’ve—borne!”</p> - -<p>“Look here, Mrs. Lady; creature is a name I won’t -stand for!” flamed Zaliska.</p> - -<p>“If you’ll all stop making a rotten fuss——” wheezed -Coningsby.</p> - -<p>“If we can all be reasonable beings for a few minutes——” -began the Bishop.</p> - -<p>Before they could finish their sentences Gadsby -leaped to the doorway, through which Farrington was -stealthily creeping, and dragged him back.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me,” said the detective, depositing -Farrington, cowed and frightened, in the center of the -group, which closed tightly about him, “that it’s about -time this bird was giving an account of himself. -Everybody in the room was called here by a fake telegram, -and I’m positive this is the scoundrel who sent -’em.”</p> - -<p>“He undoubtedly enticed us here for the purpose of -robbery,” said Senator Banning; “and the sooner we -land him in jail the better.”</p> - -<p>“If you’ll let me explain——” began Farrington, -whose bedraggled appearance was little calculated to -inspire confidence.</p> - -<p>“We’ve already had too many explanations!” -declared Mrs. Banning. “In all my visits to jails and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -penitentiaries I’ve rarely seen a man with a worse face -than the prisoner’s. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if -he turned out to be a murderer.”</p> - -<p>“Rubbish!” sniffed Miss Collingwood. “He looks -like somebody’s chauffeur who’s been joy-rolling in -the mud.”</p> - -<p>The truth would never be believed. Farrington -resolved to lie boldly.</p> - -<p>“I was on my way to Lenox and missed the road. -I entered these grounds merely to make inquiries and -get some gasoline. This man you call Gadsby assaulted -me and dragged me in here; and, as I have nothing to -do with any of you or your troubles, I protest against -being detained longer.”</p> - -<p>Gadsby’s derisive laugh expressed the general incredulity.</p> - -<p>“You didn’t say anything to me about gasoline! -You were prowling round the house, and when I -nabbed you you tried to bolt. I guess we’ll just hold on -to you until we find out who sent all those fake telegrams.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll hold on to him until we find out who’s kidnapped -Arabella!” declared Mrs. Banning.</p> - -<p>“That’s a happy suggestion, Fanny,” affirmed the -Senator, for the first time relaxing his severity toward -his wife.</p> - -<p>“What’s this outlaw’s name?” demanded Miss -Collingwood in lugubrious tones.</p> - -<p>Clever criminals never disclosed their identity. -Farrington had no intention of telling his name. -He glowered at them as he involuntarily lifted his -hand to his mud-spattered face. Senator Banning -jumped back, stepping heavily on Coningsby’s feet. -Coningsby’s howl of pain caused Zaliska to laugh with -delight.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>“If you hold me here you’ll pay dearly for it,” -said Farrington fiercely.</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear; the little boy’s going to cry!” mocked -the dancer. “I think he’d be nice if he had his face -washed. By-the-way, who’s giving this party anyhow? -I’m perfectly famished and just a little teeny-teeny -bite of food would go far toward saving your little -Zaliska’s life.”</p> - -<p>“That’s another queer thing about all this!” exclaimed -the Senator. “Some one has opened up the house -and stocked it with provisions. The caretaker got a -telegram purporting to be from me telling him I’d -be down with a house party. However, the servants -are not here. The scoundrel who arranged all this -overlooked that.”</p> - -<p>This for some occult reason drew attention back to -Farrington, and Gadsby shook him severely, presumably -in the hope of jarring loose some information. -Farrington resented being shaken. He stood glumly -watching them and awaiting his fate.</p> - -<p>“It looks as though you’d all have to spend the -night here,” remarked the Senator. “There are no -trains out of Corydon until ten o’clock tomorrow. -By morning we ought to be able to fix the responsibility -for this dastardly outrage. In the meantime this -criminal shall be locked up!”</p> - -<p>“Shudders, and clank, clank, as the prisoner goes -to his doom,” mocked Zaliska.</p> - -<p>“The sooner he’s out of my sight the better,” Mrs. -Banning agreed heartily. “If he’s hidden my poor -dear Arabella away somewhere he’ll pay the severest -penalty of the law for it. I warn him of that.”</p> - -<p>“In some states they hang kidnappers,” Miss Collingwood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -recalled, as though the thought of hanging gave -her pleasure.</p> - -<p>“We’ll put the prisoner in one of the servants’ rooms -on the third floor,” said the Senator; “and in the morning -we’ll drive him to Pittsfield and turn him over to -the authorities. Bring him along, Gadsby.”</p> - -<p>Gadsby dragged Farrington upstairs and to the back -of the house, with rather more force than was necessary. -Banning led the way, bearing a poker he had snatched -up from the fireplace. Pushing him roughly into the -butler’s room, Gadsby told Farrington to hold up his -hands.</p> - -<p>“We’ll just have a look at your pockets, young man. -No foolishness now!”</p> - -<p>This was the last straw. Farrington fought. For -the first time in his life he struck a fellow man, and -enjoyed the sensation. He was angry, and the instant -Gadsby thrust a hand into his coat pocket he landed -on the detective’s nose with all the power he could -put into the blow.</p> - -<p>Banning dropped the poker and ran out, slamming -the door after him. Two more sharp punches in the -detective’s face caused him to jump for a corner and -draw his gun. As he swung round, Farrington grabbed -the poker and dealt the officer’s wrist a sharp thwack -that knocked the pistol to the floor with a bang. In a -second the gun was in Farrington’s hand and he backed -to the door and jerked it open.</p> - -<p>“Come in here, Senator!” he said as Banning’s -white face appeared. “Don’t yell or attempt to make -a row. I want you to put the key of that door on the -inside. If you don’t I’m going to shoot your friend -here. I don’t know who or what he is, but if you -don’t obey orders I’m going to kill him. And if you’re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -not pretty lively with that key I’m going to shoot you -too. Shooting is one of the best things I do—careful -there, Mr. Gadsby! If you try to rush me you’re -a dead man!”</p> - -<p>To demonstrate his prowess he played on both of -them with the automatic. Gadsby stood blinking, -apparently uncertain what to do. The key in Banning’s -hand beat a lively rat-tat in the lock as the frightened -statesman shifted it to the inside. Farrington was -enjoying himself; it was a sweeter pleasure than he -had ever before tasted to find that he could point -pistols and intimidate senators and detectives.</p> - -<p>“That will do; thanks! Now Mr. Gadsby, or whatever -your name is, I must trouble you to remove yourself. -In other words, get out of here—quick! There’s -a bed in this room and I’m going to make myself comfortable -until morning. If you or any of you make -any effort to annoy me during the night I’ll shoot you, -without the slightest compunction. And when you -go downstairs you may save your faces by telling your -friends that you’ve locked me up and searched me, and -given me the third degree—and anything you please; -but don’t you dare come back! Just a moment more, -please! You’d better give yourself first aid for nosebleed -before you go down, Mr. Gadsby; but not here. -The sight of blood is displeasing to me. That is all -now. Good night, gentlemen!”</p> - -<p>He turned the key, heard them conferring in low -tones for a few minutes, and then they retreated down -the hall. Zaliska had begun to thump the piano. -Her voice rose stridently to the popular air: Any -Time’s A Good Time When Hearts are Light and Merry.</p> - -<p>Farrington sat on the bed and consoled himself with -a cigarette. As a fiction writer he had given much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -study to human motives; but just why the delectable -Arabella had mixed him up in this fashion with the -company below was beyond him. Perversity was all -he could see in it. He recalled now that she herself -had chosen all the names for her list, with the exception -of Banning and Gadsby; and, now that he thought of -it, she had more or less directly suggested them.</p> - -<p>To be sure he had suggested the Senator; but only in a -whimsical spirit, as he might have named any other -person whose name was familiar in contemporaneous -history. Arabella had accepted it, he remembered, -with alacrity. He had read in the newspapers about -the Bannings’ marital difficulties, and he recalled that -Coningsby, a millionaire in one of the Western mining -states, had been implicated with Banning in a big irrigation -scandal.</p> - -<p>It was no wonder that Mrs. Banning had been outraged -by her husband’s efforts to marry Arabella to the -wheezing son of the magnate. In adding to the dramatis -personæ Zaliska, whose name had glittered on Broadway -in the biggest sign that thoroughfare had ever seen, -Arabella had contributed another element to the situation -which caused Farrington to grin broadly.</p> - -<p>He looked at his watch. It was only nine-thirty, -though it seemed that eternity had rolled by since his -first encounter with Gadsby. He had taken a pistol -away from a detective of reputation and pointed it at a -United States Senator; and he was no longer the Farrington -of yesterday, but a very different being, willing -that literature should go hang so long as he followed this -life of jaunty adventure.</p> - -<p>After a brief rest he opened the door cautiously, crept -down the back stairs to the second floor, and, venturing -as close to the main stairway as he dared, heard lively<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -talk in the hall below. Gadsby, it seemed, was for -leaving the house to bring help and the proposal was -not meeting with favor.</p> - -<p>“I refuse to be left here without police protection,” -Mrs. Banning was saying with determination. “We -may all be murdered by that ruffian.”</p> - -<p>“He’s undoubtedly a dangerous crook,” said the -officer; “but he’s safe for the night. And in the morning -we will take him to jail and find means of identifying -him.”</p> - -<p>“Then for the love of Mike,” chirruped Zaliska from -the piano, “let’s have something to eat!”</p> - -<p>Farrington chuckled. Gadsby and Banning had not -told the truth about their efforts to lock him up. -They were both cowards, he reflected; and they had no -immediate intention, at least, of returning to molest -him. In a room where Banning’s suitcase was spread -open he acquired an electric lamp, which he thrust -into his pocket. Sounds of merry activity from the -kitchen indicated that Zaliska had begun her raid on -the jam pots, assisted evidently by all the company.</p> - -<p>One thought was uppermost in his mind—he must -leave the house as quickly as possible and begin the -search for Arabella. He wanted to look into her eyes -again; he wanted to hear her laughter as he told of the -result of her plotting. There was more to the plan -she had outlined at the tea house than had appeared, -and he meant to fathom the mystery; but -he wanted to see her for her own sake. His pulses -tingled as he thought of her—the incomparable girl -with the golden-brown eyes and the heart of laughter!</p> - -<p>He cautiously raised a window in one of the sleeping -rooms and began flashing his lamp to determine his -position. He was at the rear of the house and the rain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> -purred softly on the flat roof of a one-story extension of -the kitchen, fifteen feet below. The sooner he risked -breaking his neck and began the pursuit of Arabella -the better; so he threw out his rubber coat and let -himself out on the sill.</p> - -<p>He dropped and gained the roof in safety. Below, -on one side, were the lights of the dining room, and -through the open windows he saw his late companions -gathered about the table. The popping of a cork -evoked cheers, which he attributed to Zaliska and -Coningsby. He noted the Bishop and Miss Collingwood -in earnest conversation at one end of the room, -and caught a glimpse of Banning staggering in from -the pantry bearing a stack of plates, while his wife -distributed napkins. They were rallying nobly to -the demands upon their unwilling hospitality.</p> - -<p>He crawled to the farther side of the roof, swung -over and let go, and the moment he touched the earth -was off with all speed for the road. It was good to be -free again, and he ran as he had not run since his -school-days, stumbling and falling over unseen obstacles -in his haste. In a sunken garden he tumbled -over a stone bench with a force that knocked the wind -out of him; but he rubbed his bruised legs and resumed -his flight.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he heard some one running over the gravel -path that paralleled the driveway. He stopped to -listen, caught the glimmer of a light—the merest faint -spark, as of some one flashing an electric lamp—and -then heard sounds of rapid retreat toward the road.</p> - -<p>Resolving to learn which member of the party was -leaving, he changed his course and, by keeping the -lights of the house at his back, quickly gained the -stone fence at the roadside.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>When he had climbed halfway over he heard some -one stirring outside the wall between him and the gate; -then a motor started with a whir and an electric headlight -was flashed on blindingly. As the machine pushed -its way through the tangle of wet weeds into the open -road he clambered over, snapped his lamp at the driver, -and cried out in astonishment as the light struck -Arabella full in the face.</p> - -<p>She ducked her head quickly, swung her car into -the middle of the road, and stopped.</p> - -<p>“Who is that?” she demanded sharply.</p> - -<p>“Wait just a minute! I want to speak to you; I -have ten thousand things to say to you!” he shouted -above the steady vibrations of the racing motor.</p> - -<p>She leaned out, flashed her lamp on him, and laughed -tauntingly. She was buttoned up tightly in a leather -coat, but wore no hat; and her hair had tumbled loose -and hung wet about her face. Her eyes danced with -merriment.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s too soon!” she said, putting up her hand -to shield her eyes from his lamp. “Not a word to -say tonight; but tomorrow—at four o’clock—we -shall meet and talk it over. You have done beautifully—superbly!” -she continued. “I was looking -through the window when they dragged you off upstairs. -And I heard every word everybody said! -Isn’t it perfectly glorious?—particularly Zaliska! What -an awful mistake it would have been if we’d left her -out! Back, sir! I’m on my way!”</p> - -<p>Before he could speak, her car shot forward. He -ran to his machine and flung himself into it; but Arabella -was driving like a king’s messenger. Her car, -a low-hung gray roadster, moved with incredible -speed. The rear light rose until it became a dim red<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -star on the crest of a steep hill, and a second later it -blinked him good-by as it dipped down on the farther -side.</p> - -<p>He gained the hilltop and let the machine run its -maddest. When he reached the bottom he was sure -he was gaining on the flying car, but suddenly the -guiding light vanished. He checked his speed to -study the trail more carefully, found that he had lost it, -turned back to a crossroad where Arabella had plunged -more deeply into the hills, and was off again.</p> - -<p>The road was a strange one and hideously soggy. -The tail light of Arabella’s car brightened and faded -with the varying fortunes of the two machines; but he -made no appreciable gain. She was leading him into -an utterly strange neighborhood, and after half a dozen -turns he was lost.</p> - -<p>Then his car landed suddenly on a sound piece of -road and he stepped on the accelerator. The rain had -ceased and patches of stars began to blink through the -broken clouds, but as his hopes rose the light he was -following disappeared; and a moment later he was -clamping on the brakes.</p> - -<p>The road had landed him at the edge of a watery -waste, a fact of which he became aware only after -he had tumbled out of his machine and walked off a -dock. Some one yelled to him from a house at the -water’s edge and threatened to shoot if he didn’t make -himself scarce. And it was not Arabella’s voice!</p> - -<p>He slipped and fell on the wet planks, and his incidental -remarks pertaining to this catastrophe were -translated into a hostile declaration by the owner of the -voice. A gun went off with a roar and Farrington -sprinted for his machine.</p> - -<p>“If you’ve finished your target practice,” he called<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> -from the car with an effort at irony, “maybe you’ll tell -what this place is!”</p> - -<p>The reply staggered him:</p> - -<p>“This pond’s on Mr. Banning’s place. It’s private -grounds and ye can’t get through here. What ye doin’ -down here anyhow?”</p> - -<p>Farrington knew what he was doing. He was looking -for Arabella, who had apparently vanished into thin -air; but the tone of the man did not encourage confidences. -He was defeated and chagrined, to say -nothing of being chilled to the bone.</p> - -<p>“You orto turned off a mile back there; this is a -private road,” the man volunteered grudgingly, “and -the gate ain’t going to be opened no more tonight.”</p> - -<p>Farrington got his machine round with difficulty -and started slowly back. His reflections were not -pleasant ones. Arabella had been having sport with -him. She had led him in a semicircle to a remote -corner of her father’s estate, merely, it seemed, that he -might walk into a pond or be shot by the guardian of -the marine front of the property.</p> - -<p>He had not thought Arabella capable of such malevolence; -it was not like the brown-eyed girl who had -fed him tea and sandwiches two days before to lure him -into such a trap. In his bewildered and depressed state -of mind he again doubted Arabella.</p> - -<p>He reached home at one o’clock and took counsel -of his pipe until three, brooding over his adventure.</p> - -<p>Hope returned with the morning. In the bright -sunlight he was ashamed of himself for doubting Arabella; -and yet he groped in the dark for an explanation -of her conduct. His reasoning powers failed to find an -explanation of that last trick of hers in leading him over -the worst roads in Christendom, merely to drop him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -into a lake in her father’s back yard. She might have -got rid of him easier than that!</p> - -<p>The day’s events began early. As he stood in the -doorway of his garage, waiting for the chauffeur to -extract his runabout from its shell of mud, he saw -Gadsby and two strange men flit by in a big limousine. -As soon as his car was ready he jumped in and set off, -with no purpose but to keep in motion. He, the Farrington -of cloistral habits, had tasted adventure; and -it was possible that by ranging the county he might -catch a glimpse of the bewildering Arabella, who had -so disturbed the even order of his life.</p> - -<p>He drove to Corydon, glanced into all the shops, and -stopped at the post office on an imaginary errand. -He bought a book of stamps and as he turned away -from the window ran into the nautical Miss Collingwood.</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon!” he mumbled, and was hurrying on -when she took a step toward him.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t lie to me, young man; you were in that -row at Banning’s last night, and I want to know what -you know about Arabella!”</p> - -<p>This lady, who sailed a schooner for recreation, was -less formidable by daylight. It occurred to him that -she might impart information if handled cautiously. -They had the office to themselves and she drew him into -a corner of the room and assumed an air of mystery.</p> - -<p>“That fool detective is at the telegraph office wiring -all the police in creation to look out for Arabella. -You’d better not let him see you. Gadsby is a brave -man by daylight!”</p> - -<p>“If Arabella didn’t spend last night at her father’s -house I know nothing about her,” said Farrington -eagerly. “I have reason to assume that she did.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>She eyed him with frank distrust.</p> - -<p>“Don’t try to bluff me! You’re mixed up in this -row some way; and if you’re not careful you’ll spend the -rest of your life in a large, uncomfortable penitentiary. -If that man at the telegraph office wasn’t such a fool——”</p> - -<p>“You’re not in earnest when you say Miss Banning -wasn’t at home last night!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Decidedly I am! Do you suppose we’d all be -chasing over the country this morning looking for my -niece and offering rewards if we knew where she is? -I live on a schooner to keep away from trouble, and -this is what that girl has got me into! What’s your -name anyhow?”</p> - -<p>He quickly decided against telling his name. At -that moment Gadsby’s burly frame became visible -across Main Street, and Farrington shot out a side door -and sprinted up an alley at his best speed. He struck -the railroad track at a point beyond the station where -it curved through the hills, and followed it for a mile -before stopping to breathe.</p> - -<p>As he approached a highway he heard a motor -and flung himself down in the grass at the side of the -track. The driver of the car checked its speed and one -of his companions stood up and surveyed the long -stretch of track. The blue glint of gun barrels caught -Farrington’s eye.</p> - -<p>There were three men in the machine and he guiltily -surmised that they were deputy sheriffs or constables -looking for him. He stuck his nose into the ground -and did not lift his head again until the sounds of the -motor faded away in the distance. Probably no roads -were safe, and even in following the railroad he might -walk into an ambush.</p> - -<p>He abandoned the ties for flight over a wooded hill.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -It was hard going and the underbrush slapped him -savagely in the face. A higher hill tempted him and a -still higher one, and he came presently to the top of a -young mountain. He sat for a time on a fallen tree -and considered matters. In his perturbed state of -mind it seemed to him that the faint clouds of dust he -saw rising in the roads below were all evidences of -pursuit. He picked out familiar landmarks and judged -that his flight over the hills had brought him within -four miles of his home.</p> - -<p>Thoughts of home, and a tub, and clean clothes, -pleased him, and he resolutely began the descent. The -only way he could free himself from suspicion was by -finding Arabella. And how could he find Arabella -when he was likely at any moment to be run down by -a country constable with a shotgun? And as for -meeting Arabella at four o’clock, he realized now that he -had stupidly allowed the girl to slip away from him without -designating a meeting place.</p> - -<p>So far as he knew, he was the only person who had seen -Arabella since her escape from Miss Collingwood’s -schooner. It might be well for him to volunteer to the -Bannings such information as he had; but the more he -thought of this the less it appealed to him. It would be -difficult to give a plausible account of his meeting with -Arabella at the tea house; and, moreover, he shrank -from a betrayal of the light-hearted follower of the silver -trumpet. As a gentleman he could give no version -of the affair that would not place all the blame on -himself; and this involved serious risks.</p> - -<p>He approached his house from the rear, keeping as -far as possible from the road, lingered at the barn, -dodged from it to the garage, and crept furtively into -his study by a side door as the clock struck two.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>He had seen none of his employees on the farm and -the house was ominously still. He rang the bell and -in a moment the scared face of Beeching was thrust in.</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon; are you home, sir?” asked the servant -with a frightened gulp.</p> - -<p>“Of course I’m home!” said Farrington with all the -dignity his scratched face and torn clothes would -permit.</p> - -<p>“I missed you, sir,” said the man gravely. “I -thought maybe you was off looking for Arabella.”</p> - -<p>The book Farrington had been nervously fingering -fell with a bang.</p> - -<p>“What—what the devil do you know about Arabella?”</p> - -<p>“She’s lost, sir. The kennel master and the chauffeur -is off looking for her. It’s a most singular case.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Farrington assented; “most remarkable. -Have there been any—er—have any people been looking -here for—for her?”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, the sheriff stopped a while ago to ask -whether we’d seen such a girl; and there was a constable -on horseback, and citizens in machines. Her father has -offered a reward of ten thousand dollars. And there’s -a man missing, they say, sir, a dangerous character they -caught on the Banning place last night. There’s a -thousand on him; it’s a kidnapping matter, sir.”</p> - -<p>Farrington’s throat troubled him and he swallowed -hard.</p> - -<p>“It’s a shameful case,” he remarked weakly. “I -hope they’ll kill the rascal when they catch him.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so, sir,” said Beeching. “You seem quite -worn out, sir. Shall I serve something?”</p> - -<p>“You may bring the Scotch—quick—and don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -bother about the water. And, Beeching, if anyone -calls I’m out!”</p> - -<p>By the time he had changed his clothes and eaten -a belated luncheon it was three o’clock. From time -to time mad honking on the highway announced the -continuance of the search for Arabella. He had screwed -his courage to the point of telephoning Senator Banning -that Arabella had been seen near her father’s place -on the previous night. His spirits sank when the -Corydon exchange announced that the Banning phone -was out of order. The chauffeur, seeing Farrington’s -roadster on Main Street, telephoned from Corydon to -know what disposition should be made of it, and Farrington -ordered him to bring it home.</p> - -<p>He regained his self-respect as he smoked a cigar. -He had met the issues of the night and day bravely; and -if further adventures lay before him he felt confident that -he would acquit himself well. And, in spite of the -tricks she had played on him, Arabella danced brightly -in his thoughts. He must find Arabella!</p> - -<p>He thrust the revolver he had captured from Gadsby -into his pocket and drove resolutely toward the Bannings’.</p> - -<p>A dozen machines blocked the entrance, indicating -a considerable gathering, and he steeled himself for an -interview that could hardly fail to prove a stormy one. -The door stood open and a company of twenty people -were crowded about a table. So great was their absorption -that Farrington joined the outer circle without -attracting attention.</p> - -<p>“Mister Sheriff,” Senator Banning was saying, “we -shall make no progress in this affair until the man who -escaped from custody here last night has been apprehended.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> -You must impress a hundred—a thousand -deputies into service if necessary, and begin a systematic -search of every house, every hillside in Western Massachusetts. -I suggest that you throw a line from -here——”</p> - -<p>They were craning their necks to follow his finger -across the map spread out on the table, when Miss -Collingwood’s voice was heard:</p> - -<p>“I tell you again I saw that man in the post office -this morning, and the clerk told me he is Laurance -Farrington, the fool who writes such preposterous -novels.”</p> - -<p>“Madam,” said the sheriff irritably, “you’ve said -that before; but it’s impossible! I know Mr. Farrington -and he wouldn’t harm a flea. And the folks at his -house told me an hour ago that he was away looking -for the lost girl.”</p> - -<p>“Only a bluff!” squeaked Coningsby. “He looked -to me like a bad man.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I didn’t think he looked so rotten,” said Zaliska; -“but if he’s Farrington I must say his books bore me -to death!”</p> - -<p>“Please remember this isn’t a literary club!” -shouted Senator Banning. “What do we care about his -books if he’s a kidnapper! What we’re trying to do is to -plan a thorough search of Berkshire County—of the -whole United States, if necessary.”</p> - -<p>“So far as I’m concerned——” began Farrington in -a loud voice; but as twenty other voices were raised at -the same moment no one paid the slightest attention -to him. Their indifference enraged him and he pushed -his way roughly to the table and confronted Banning. -“While you’ve wasted your time looking for me I’ve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -been—— Stand back! Don’t come a step nearer until -I’ve finished or I’ll kill you!”</p> - -<p>It was Gadsby who had caused the interruption, but -the whole room was now in an uproar. With every one -talking at once Coningsby’s high voice alone rose above -the tempest. He wished he was armed; he would do -terrible things!</p> - -<p>“Let the man tell his story,” pleaded Mrs. Banning -between sobs.</p> - -<p>“I’ve spent the night and day looking for Arabella!” -Farrington cried. “I have no other interest—no other -aim in life but to find Arabella. All I can tell you is -that I saw her at the Sorona Tea House Tuesday afternoon, -and that last night she was on these grounds; -in fact, she saw you all gathered here and heard everything -that was said in this room.”</p> - -<p>“Young man, you know too little or too much,” said -Banning. “Gadsby, do your duty!”</p> - -<p>The detective took a step forward, looked into the -barrel of his own automatic, and paused, waving his -hand to the sheriff and his deputies to guard the doors -and windows.</p> - -<p>“How do you know she was at the tea house?” asked -Mrs. Banning. “It seems to me that’s the first question.”</p> - -<p>“I met her there,” Farrington blurted. “I met her -there by appointment!”</p> - -<p>“Then you admit, you villain,” began Banning, -choking with rage, “that you lured my daughter, an -innocent child, to a lonely tea house; that you saw her -last night; and that now—now!—you know nothing of -her whereabouts! This, sir, is——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s really not so bad!” came in cheery tones -from above. “It was I who lured Mr. Farrington to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -tea house, and I did it because I knew he was a gentleman.”</p> - -<p>Farrington had seen her first—the much-sought -Arabella—stealing down the stairway to the landing, -where she paused and leaned over the railing, much at -ease, to look at them.</p> - -<p>Her name was spoken in gasps, in whispers, and was -thundered aloud only by Miss Collingwood.</p> - -<p>“This was my idea,” said Arabella quietly as they -all turned toward her. “I’ve been hiding in the old -cottage by the pond, right here on father’s place—with -John and Mary, who’ve known me since I was a baby. -This is my house party—a scheme to get you all together. -I thought that maybe, if papa and mama really -thought I was lost, and if papa and Mr. Coningsby -and Mademoiselle Zaliska all met under the same roof, -they might understand one another better—and me.</p> - -<p>“I telegraphed for Mr. Gadsby,” she laughed, “just -to be sure the rest of you were kept in order! And I sent -for Bishop Giddings because he’s an old friend, and I -thought he might help to straighten things out.”</p> - -<p>She choked and the tears brightened her eyes as she -stood gazing down at them.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t worry about me, Arabella,” said -Coningsby; “for Zaliska and I were married by the -Bishop at Corydon this morning.”</p> - -<p>This seemed to interest no one in particular, though -Miss Collingwood sniffed contemptuously.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Banning had started toward Arabella, and at -the same moment Senator Banning reached the stairway. -Arabella tripped down three steps, then paused -on tip-toe, with her hands outstretched, half-inviting, -half-repelling them. She was dressed as at the tea -house, but her youthfulness was lost for the moment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -in a grave wistfulness that touched Farrington deeply.</p> - -<p>“You can’t have me,” she cried to her father and -mother, “unless we’re all going to be happy together -again!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Half an hour later Senator Banning and his wife, -and Arabella, wreathed in smiles, emerged from the -library and found the sheriff and his deputies gone; but -the members of the original house party still lingered.</p> - -<p>“Before I leave,” said Gadsby, “I’d like to know -just how Mr. Farrington got into the game. He refuses -to tell how he came to see you at the tea house. I think -we ought to know that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Arabella, clapping her hands, “that’s -another part of the story. If Mr. Farrington doesn’t -mind——”</p> - -<p>“Now that you’re found I don’t care what you tell,” -Farrington declared.</p> - -<p>“You may regret that,” said Arabella, coloring -deeply. “I sat by Mr. Baker, of <i>The Quill</i>, at a dinner -a little while ago, and we were talking about your -books. And he said—he said your greatest weakness -as a novelist was due to your never having—well”—she -paused and drew closer under the protecting arm of -her father—“you had never yourself been, as the saying -is—in love—and he thought—— Well, this is shameful—but -he and I—just as a joke—thought we d try to attract -your attention by printing that plot advertisement. -He said you were working too hard and seemed -worried, and might bite; and then I thought it would -be good fun to throw you into the lion’s den here to -stir things up, as you did. And I had my car on the -road last night ready to skip if things got too warm. Of -course I couldn’t let you catch me; it would have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -spoiled all the fun! And it was I who shot off that -gun last night to scare you—when old John was scolding -you away from the place. But it was nasty of me, -and not fair; and now, when everything else is all fixed -and I’m so happy, I’m ashamed to look you in the face, -knowing what a lot of trouble I’ve given you. And -you’ll always hate me——”</p> - -<p>“I shall always love you,” said Farrington, stepping -forward boldly and taking her hands. “You’ve made -me live for once in my life—you’ve made me almost -human,” he laughed. “And you’ve made me a braver -man than I know how to be! You pulled down the -silver trumpet out of heaven and gave it to me, and -made me rich beyond words; and without you I should -be sure to lose it again!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">THE THIRD MAN</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Webster G. Burgess asked ten of his cronies to -dine with him at the University Club on a night in -January they assumed that the president of the White -River National had been indulging in another adventure -which he wished to tell them about.</p> - -<p>In spite of their constant predictions that if he didn’t -stop hiding crooks in his house and playing tricks on -the Police Department he would ultimately find himself -in jail, Mr. Burgess continued to find amusement in -frequent dallyings with gentlemen of the underworld. -In a town of approximately three hundred thousand -people a banker is expected to go to church on Sundays -and otherwise conduct himself as a decent, orderly, -and law-abiding citizen, but the president of the White -River National did not see things in that light. As a -member of the Board of Directors of the Released -Prisoners’ Aid Society he was always ready with the -excuse that his heart was deeply moved by the misfortunes -of those who keep to the dark side of the street, -and that sincere philanthropy covered all his sins in their -behalf.</p> - -<p>When his friends met at the club and found Governor -Eastman one of the dinner party, they resented the -presence of that dignitary as likely to impose restraints -upon Burgess, who, for all his jauntiness, was not wholly -without discretion. But the governor was a good fellow,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -as they all knew, and a story-teller of wide reputation. -Moreover, he was taking his job seriously, and, being -practical men, they liked this about him. It was said -that no governor since Civil War times had spent so -many hours at his desk or had shown the same zeal -and capacity for gathering information at first hand -touching all departments of the State government. -Eastman, as the country knows, is an independent -character, and it was this quality, shown first as a prosecuting -attorney, that had attracted attention and landed -him in the seat of the Hoosier governors.</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” remarked Kemp as they sat down, -“that these tablets are scattered around the table so -we can make notes of the clever things that will be -said here tonight. It’s a good idea and gives me a -chance to steal some of your stories, governor.”</p> - -<p>A scratch pad with pencil attached had been placed at -each plate, and the diners spent several minutes in -chaffing Burgess as to the purpose of this unusual table -decoration.</p> - -<p>“I guess,” said Goring, “that Web is going to ask us -to write limericks for a prize and that the governor -is here to judge the contest. Indoor winter sports don’t -appeal to me; I pass.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to write notes to the House Committee on -mine,” said Fanning; “the food in this club is not what -it used to be, and it’s about time somebody kicked.”</p> - -<p>“As I’ve frequently told you,” remarked Burgess, -smiling upon them from the head of the table, “you -fellows have no imagination. You’d never guess what -those tablets are for, and maybe I’ll never tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing is so innocent as a piece of white paper,” -said the governor, eyeing his tablet. “We’d better be -careful not to jot down anything that might fly up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -and hit us afterward. For all we know, it may be a -scheme to get our signatures for Burgess to stick on -notes without relief from valuation or appraisement -laws. It’s about time for another Bohemian oats -swindle, and our friend Burgess may expect to work us -for the price of the dinner.”</p> - -<p>“Web’s bound to go to jail some day,” remarked -Ramsay, the surgeon, “and he’d better do it while -you’re in office, governor. You may not know that -he’s hand in glove with all the criminals in the country: -he quit poker so he could give all his time to playing with -crooks.”</p> - -<p>“The warden of the penitentiary has warned me -against him,” replied the governor easily. “Burgess has -a man at the gate to meet convicts as they emerge, -and all the really bad ones are sent down here for -Burgess to put up at this club.”</p> - -<p>“I never did that but once,” Burgess protested, “and -that was only because my mother-in-law was visiting -me and I was afraid she wouldn’t stand for a burglar -as a fellow guest. My wife’s got used to ’em. But -the joke of putting that chap up here at the club isn’t -on me, but on Ramsay and Colton. They had luncheon -with him one day and thanked me afterward for introducing -them to so interesting a man. I told them he -was a manufacturer from St. Louis, and they swallowed -it whole. Pettit was the name, but he has a -string of aliases as long as this table, and there’s not -a rogues’ gallery in the country where he isn’t indexed. -You remember, Colton, he talked a good deal of his -travels, and he could do so honestly, as he’d cracked -safes all the way from Boston to Seattle.”</p> - -<p>Ramsay and Colton protested that this could not be -so; that the man they had luncheon with was a shoe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -manufacturer and had talked of his business as only an -expert could.</p> - -<p>The governor and Burgess exchanged glances, and -both laughed.</p> - -<p>“He knew the shoe business all right enough,” said -Burgess, “for he learned it in the penitentiary and -proved so efficient that they made him foreman of the -shop!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” said Kemp, “that you’ve got another -crook coming to take that vacant chair. You’d better -tell us about him so we won’t commit any social errors.”</p> - -<p>At the governor’s right there was an empty place, -and Burgess remarked carelessly that they were shy a -man, but that he would turn up later.</p> - -<p>“I’ve asked Tate, a banker at Lorinsburg, to join us -and he’ll be along after a while. Any of you know -Tate? One of our scouts recently persuaded him to -transfer his account to us, and as this is the first time -he’s been in town since the change I thought it only -decent to show him some attention. We’re both directors -in a company that’s trying to develop a tile factory -in his town, so you needn’t be afraid I’m going to put -anything over on you. Tate’s attending a meeting -tonight from which I am regrettably absent! He -promised to be here before we got down to the coffee.”</p> - -<p>As the dinner progressed the governor was encouraged -to tell stories, and acceded good-naturedly by recounting -some amusing things that had happened in the -course of his official duties.</p> - -<p>“But it isn’t all so funny,” he said gravely after -keeping them in a roar for half an hour. “In a State -as big as this a good many disagreeable things happen, -and people come to me every day with heart-breaking -stories. There’s nothing that causes me more anxiety<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> -than the appeals for pardon; if the pardoning power -were taken away from me, I’d be a much happier man. -The Board of Pardons winnows out the cases, but even -at that there’s enough to keep me uncomfortable. -It isn’t the pleasantest feeling in the world that as you go -to bed at night somebody may be suffering punishment -unjustly, and that it’s up to you to find it out. -When a woman comes in backed by a child or two and -cries all over your office about her husband who’s -doing time and tells you he wasn’t guilty, it doesn’t -cheer you much; not by a jugful! Wives, mothers, -and sisters: the wives shed more tears, the sisters put -up the best argument, but the mothers give you more -sleepless nights.”</p> - -<p>“If it were up to me,” commented Burgess, “I’m -afraid I’d turn ’em all out!”</p> - -<p>“You would,” chorused the table derisively, “and -when you’d emptied the penitentiaries you’d burn -’em down!”</p> - -<p>“Of course there’s bound to be cases of flagrant -injustice,” suggested Kemp. “And the feelings of a -man who is locked up for a crime he never committed -must be horrible. We hear now and then of such cases -and it always shakes my faith in the law.”</p> - -<p>“The law does the best it can,” replied the governor -a little defensively, “but, as you say, mistakes do occur. -The old saying that murder will out is no good; we can -all remember cases where the truth was never known. -Mistakes occur constantly, and it’s the fear of not -rectifying them that’s making a nervous wreck of me. -I have in my pocket now a blank pardon that I meant -to sign before I left my office, but I couldn’t quite bring -myself to the point. The Pardon Board has made the -recommendation, not on the grounds of injustice—more,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -I’m afraid, out of sympathy than anything else—and -we have to be careful of our sympathies in these matters. -And here again there’s a wife to reckon with. She’s -been at my office nearly every day for a year, and she’s -gone to my wife repeatedly to enlist her support. -And it’s largely through Mrs. Eastman’s insistence that -I’ve spent many weeks studying the case. It’s a -murder: what appeared to be a heartless, cold-blooded -assassination. And some of you may recall it—the -Avery case, seven years ago, in Salem County.”</p> - -<p>Half the men had never heard of it and the others -recalled it only vaguely.</p> - -<p>“It was an interesting case,” Burgess remarked, -wishing to draw the governor out. “George Avery was -a man of some importance down there and stood high -in the community. He owned a quarry almost eleven -miles from Torrenceville and maintained a bungalow -on the quarry land where he used to entertain his -friends with quail hunting and perhaps now and then -a poker party. He killed a man named Reynolds who -was his guest. As I remember, there seemed to be -no great mystery about it, and Avery’s defense was a -mere disavowal and a brilliant flourish of character -witnesses.”</p> - -<p>“For all anybody ever knew, it was a plain case, as -Burgess says,” the governor began. “Avery and -Reynolds were business acquaintances and Avery had -invited Reynolds down there to discuss the merging -of their quarry interests. Reynolds was found dead -a little way from the bungalow by some of the quarry -laborers. He had been beaten on the head, with a club -in the most barbarous fashion. Reynolds’s overcoat -was torn off and the buttons ripped from his waistcoat, -pointing to a fierce struggle before his assailant got<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -him down and pounded the life out of him. The -purpose was clearly not robbery, as Reynolds had -a considerable sum of money on his person that was -left untouched. When the men who found the body -went to rouse Avery he collapsed when told that -Reynolds was dead. In fact, he lay in a stupor for a -week, and they could get nothing out of him. Tracks? -No; it was a cold December night and the ground was -frozen.</p> - -<p>“Reynolds had meant to take a midnight train for -Chicago, and Avery had wired for special orders to -stop at the quarry station, to save Reynolds the trouble -of driving into Torrenceville. One might have supposed -that Avery would accompany his visitor to the -station, particularly as it was not a regular stop for -night trains and the way across the fields was a little -rough. I’ve personally been over all the ground. -There are many difficult and inexplicable things about -the case, the absence of motive being one of them. -The State asserted business jealousy and substantiated -it to a certain extent, and the fact that Avery had taken -the initiative in the matter of combining their quarry -interests and might have used undue pressure on -Reynolds to force him to the deal is to be considered.”</p> - -<p>The governor lapsed into silence, seemingly lost in -reverie. With his right hand he was scribbling idly -on the tablet that lay by his plate. The others, having -settled themselves comfortably in their chairs, hoping to -hear more of the murder, were disappointed when he -ceased speaking. Burgess’s usual calm, assured air -deserted him. He seemed unwontedly restless, and -they saw him glance furtively at his watch.</p> - -<p>“Please, governor, won’t you go on with the story?” -pleaded Colton. “You know that nothing that’s said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -at one of Web’s parties ever goes out of the room.”</p> - -<p>“That,” laughed the governor, “is probably unfortunate, -as most of his stories ought to go to the grand -jury. But if I may talk here into the private ear of -you gentlemen I will go on a little further. I’ve got to -make up my mind in the next hour or two about this -case, and it may help me to reach a conclusion to -think aloud about it.”</p> - -<p>“You needn’t be afraid of us,” said Burgess encouragingly. -“We’ve been meeting here—about the same -crowd—once a month for five years, and nobody has -ever blabbed anything.”</p> - -<p>“All right; we’ll go a bit further. Avery’s stubborn -silence was a contributing factor in his prompt conviction. -A college graduate, a high-strung, nervous -man, hard-working and tremendously ambitious; successful, -reasonably prosperous, happy in his marriage, -and with every reason for living straight: there you -have George Avery as I make him out to have been -when this calamity befell him. There was just one -lapse, one error, in his life, but that didn’t figure in the -case, and I won’t speak of it now. His conduct from -the moment of his arrest, a week following the murder, -and only after every other possible clue had been exhausted -by the local authorities, was that of a man -mutely resigned to his fate. I find from the records that -he remained at the bungalow in care of a physician, -utterly dazed, it seemed, by the thing he had done, until -a warrant was issued and he was put in jail. He’s been -a prisoner ever since, and his silence has been unbroken -to this day. His wife assures me that he never, not -even to her, said one word about the case more than to -declare his innocence. I’ve seen him at the penitentiary -on two occasions, but could get nothing out of him.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -In fact, I exhausted any ingenuity I may have in -attempting to surprise him into some admission that -would give me ground for pardoning him, but without -learning anything that was not in the State’s case. -They’re using him as a bookkeeper, and he’s made -a fine record: a model convict. The long confinement -has told seriously on his health, which is the -burden of his wife’s plea for his release, but he -wouldn’t even discuss that.</p> - -<p>“There was no one else at the bungalow on the night -of the murder,” the governor continued. “It was -Avery’s habit to get his meals at the house of the quarry -superintendent, about five hundred yards away, and -the superintendent’s wife cared for the bungalow, but -the men I’ve had at work couldn’t find anything in that -to hang a clue on. You see, gentlemen, after seven -years it’s not easy to work up a case, but two expert -detectives that I employed privately to make some -investigations along lines I suggested have been of great -assistance. Failing to catch the scent where the trial -started, I set them to work backward from a point -utterly remote from the scene. It was a guess, and -ordinarily it would have failed, but in this case it has -brought results that are all but convincing.”</p> - -<p>The tablets and pencils that had been distributed -along the table had not been neglected. The guests, -without exception, had been drawing or scribbling; -Colton had amused himself by sketching the governor’s -profile. Burgess seemed not to be giving his undivided -attention to the governor’s review of the case. He -continued to fidget, and his eyes swept the table with -veiled amusement. Then he tapped a bell and a -waiter appeared.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>“Pardon me a moment, governor, till the cigars are -passed again.”</p> - -<p>In his round with the cigar tray the Jap, evidently -by prearrangement, collected the tablets and laid them -in front of Burgess.</p> - -<p>“Changed your mind about the Limerick contest, -Web?” asked some one.</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Burgess carelessly; “the tablets -have fulfilled their purpose. It was only a silly idea -of mine anyhow.” They noticed, however, that a -tablet was left at the still vacant place that awaited the -belated guest, and they wondered at this, surmising -that Burgess had planned the dinner carefully and that -the governor’s discussion of the Avery case was by -connivance with their host. With a quickening of -interest they drew their chairs closer to the table.</p> - -<p>“The prosecuting attorney who represented the State -in the trial is now a judge of the Circuit Court,” the -governor resumed when the door closed upon the waiter. -“I have had many talks with him about this case. He -confesses that there are things about it that still -puzzle him. The evidence was purely circumstantial, as -I have already indicated; but circumstantial evidence, -as Thoreau once remarked, may be very convincing, -as when you find a trout in the milk! But when two -men have spent a day together in the house of one of -them, and the other is found dead in a lonely place not -far away, and suspicion attaches to no one but the -survivor—not even the tramp who usually figures in -such speculations—a jury of twelve farmers may be -pardoned for taking the State’s view of the matter.”</p> - -<p>“The motive you spoke of, business jealousy, doesn’t -seem quite adequate unless it could be established that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -they had quarreled and that there was a clear showing -of enmity,” suggested Fullerton, the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“You are quite right, and the man who prosecuted -Avery admits it,” the governor answered.</p> - -<p>“There may have been a third man in the affair,” -suggested Ramsey, “and I suppose the cynical must -have suggested the usual woman in the case.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say those possibilities were thrashed out at -the time,” the governor replied; “but the only woman -in this case is Avery’s wife, and she and Reynolds had -never met. I have found nothing to sustain any suspicion -that there was a woman in the case. Avery’s -ostensible purpose in asking Reynolds to visit him at -that out-of-the-way place was merely that they could -discuss the combination of their quarry interests -privately, and close to Avery’s plant. It seems that -Avery had undertaken the organization of a big company -to take over a number of quarries whose product -was similar, and that he wished to confer secretly with -Reynolds to secure his sanction to a selling agreement -before the others he wanted to get into the combination -heard of it. That, of course, is perfectly plausible; I -could make a good argument justifying that. Reynolds, -like many small capitalists in country towns, -had a number of irons in the fire and had done some -promoting on his own hook. All the financial genius -and all the financial crookedness aren’t confined to -Wall Street, though I forget that sometimes when I’m -on the stump! I’m disposed to think from what I’ve -learned of both of them that Avery wasn’t likely to -put anything over on Reynolds, who was no child in -business matters. And there was nothing to show -that Avery had got him down there for any other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -purpose than to effect a merger of quarry interests for -their mutual benefit.”</p> - -<p>“There probably were papers to substantiate that,” -suggested Fullerton; “correspondence and that sort -of thing.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly; I have gone into that,” the governor -replied. “All the papers remain in the office of the -prosecuting attorney, and I have examined them carefully. -Now, if Avery had been able to throw suspicion -on some one else you’d think he’d have done so. And -if there had been a third person at the bungalow that -night you’d imagine that Avery would have said so; -it’s not in human nature for one man to take the blame -for another’s crime, and yet we do hear of such things, -and I have read novels and seen plays built upon that -idea. But here is Avery with fifteen years more to -serve, and, if he’s been bearing the burden and suffering -the penalty of another’s sin, I must say that he’s taking -it all in an amazing spirit of self-sacrifice.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Fullerton, “Reynolds may have had -an enemy who followed him there and lay in wait for -him. Or Avery may have connived at the crime without -being really the assailant. That is conceivable.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll change the subject for a moment,” said the -governor, “and return to our muttons later.”</p> - -<p>He spoke in a low tone to Burgess, who looked at -his watch and answered audibly:</p> - -<p>“We have half an hour more.”</p> - -<p>The governor nodded and, with a whimsical smile, -began turning over the tablets.</p> - -<p>“These pads were placed before you for a purpose -which I will now explain. I apologize for taking advantage -of you, but you will pardon me, I’m sure, when -I tell you my reason. I’ve dipped into psychology<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -lately with a view to learning something of the mind’s -eccentricities. We all do things constantly without -conscious effort, as you know; we perform acts automatically -without the slightest idea that we are doing -them. At meetings of our State boards I’ve noticed -that nobody ever uses the pads that are always provided -except to scribble on. Many people have that habit -of scribbling on anything that’s handy. Hotel keepers -knowing this, provide pads of paper ostensibly for -memoranda that guests may want to make while at the -telephone, but really to keep them from defacing the -wall. Left alone with pencil and paper, most of us will -scribble something or draw meaningless figures.</p> - -<p>“Sometimes it’s indicative of a deliberate turn of -mind; again it’s sheer nervousness. After I had discussed -this with a well-known psychologist I began -watching myself and found that I made a succession -of figure eights looped together in a certain way—I’ve -been doing it here!</p> - -<p>“And now,” he went on with a chuckle, “you gentlemen -have been indulging this same propensity as you -listened to me. I find on one pad the word Napoleon -written twenty times with a lot of flourishes; another -has traced a dozen profiles of a man with a bulbous nose: -it is the same gentleman, I find, who honored me by -drawing me with a triple chin—for which I thank him. -And here’s what looks like a dog kennel repeated down -the sheet. Still another has sketched the American flag -all over the page. If the patriotic gentleman who drew -the flag will make himself known, I should like to ask -him whether he’s conscious of having done that before?”</p> - -<p>“I’m guilty, governor,” Fullerton responded. “I -believe it is a habit of mine. I’ve caught myself doing -it scores of times.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>“I’m responsible for the man with the fat nose,” -confessed Colton; “I’ve been drawing him for years -without ever improving my draftsmanship.”</p> - -<p>“That will do,” said the governor, glancing at the -door. “We won’t take time to speak of the others, -though you may be relieved to know that I haven’t got -any evidence against you. Burgess, please get these -works of art out of the room. We’ll go back to the -Avery case. In going over the papers I found that the -prosecuting attorney in his search of the bungalow the -morning after the murder found a number of pieces of -paper that bore an odd, irregular sort of sketch. I’m -going to pass one of them round, but please send it -back to me immediately.”</p> - -<p>He produced a sheet of letter paper that bore traces -of hasty crumpling, but it had been smoothed out again, -and held it up. It bore the lithographed name of the -Avery Quarry Company. On it was drawn this device:</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_180.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p>“Please note,” said the governor as the paper passed -from hand to hand, “that that same device is traced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -there five times, sometimes more irregularly than others, -but the general form is the same. Now, in the fireplace -of the bungalow living-room they found this and three -other sheets of the same stationery that bore this same -figure. It seems a fair assumption that some one sitting -at a table had amused himself by sketching these outlines -and then, when he had filled the sheet, tore it -off and threw it into the fireplace, wholly unconscious -of what he was doing. The prosecutor attached no -importance to these sheets, and it was only by chance -that they were stuck away in the file box with the other -documents in the case.”</p> - -<p>“Then you suspect that there was a third man in the -bungalow that night?” Ramsay asked.</p> - -<p>The governor nodded gravely.</p> - -<p>“Yes; I have some little proof of it, quite a bit of -proof, in fact. I have even had the wastebasket of the -suspect examined for a considerable period. Knowing -Burgess’s interest in such matters, I have been using -him to get me certain information I very much wanted. -And our friend is a very successful person! I wanted to -see the man I have in mind and study him a little when -he was off-guard, and Burgess has arranged that for -me, though he had to go into the tile business to do it! -As you can readily see, I could hardly drag him to my -office, so this little party was gotten up to give me a -chance to look him over at leisure.”</p> - -<p>“Tate!” exclaimed several of the men.</p> - -<p>“You can see that this is a very delicate matter,” -said the governor slowly. “Burgess thought it better -not to have a smaller party, as Tate, whom I never saw, -might think it a frame-up. So you see we are using -you as stool-pigeons, so to speak. Burgess vouches for -you as men of discretion and tact; and it will be your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -business to keep Tate amused and his attention away -from me while I observe him a little.”</p> - -<p>“And when I give the signal you’re to go into the -library and look at picture books,” Burgess added.</p> - -<p>“That’s not fair!” said Fullerton. “We want to see -the end of it!”</p> - -<p>“I’m so nervous,” said Colton, “I’m likely to scream -at any minute!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t do it!” Burgess admonished. “The new -House Committee is very touchy about noise in the -private dining rooms, and besides I’ve got a lot of -scenery set for the rest of the evening, and I don’t want -you fellows to spoil it.”</p> - -<p>“It begins to look,” remarked the governor, glancing -at his watch, “as though some of our scenery might -have got lost.”</p> - -<p>“He’d hardly bolt,” Burgess replied; “he knows of -no reason why he should! I told the doorman to send -him right up. When he comes there will be no more -references to the Avery case: you all understand?”</p> - -<p>They murmured their acquiescence, and a solemn -hush fell upon them as they turned involuntarily toward -the vacant chair.</p> - -<p>“This will never do!” exclaimed the governor, who -seemed to be the one tranquil person in the room. “We -must be telling stories and giving an imitation of weary -business men having a jolly time. But I’m tired of -talking; some of the good story-tellers ought to be stirred -up.”</p> - -<p>With a little prodding Fullerton took the lead, but -was able to win only grudging laughter. Colton was -trying his hand at diverting them when they were -startled by a knock. Burgess was at the door instantly -and flung it open.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span></p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>“Ah, Tate! Come right in; the party hasn’t started -yet!”</p> - -<p>The newcomer was a short, thickset man, clean -shaven, with coarse dark hair streaked with gray. -The hand he gave the men in succession as they -gathered about him for Burgess’s introduction was -broad and heavy. He offered it limply, with an air of -embarrassment.</p> - -<p>“Governor Eastman, Mr. Tate; that’s your seat by -the governor, Tate,” said Burgess. “We were just -listening to some old stories from some of these fellows, -so you haven’t missed anything. I hope they didn’t -need me at that tile meeting; I never attend night -meetings: they spoil my sleep, which my doctor says -I’ve got to have.”</p> - -<p>“Night meetings,” said the governor, “always give -me a grouch the next morning. A party like this -doesn’t, of course!”</p> - -<p>“Up in the country where I live we still stick to -lodge meetings as an excuse when we want a night off,” -Tate remarked.</p> - -<p>They laughed more loudly than was necessary to put -him at ease. He refused Burgess’s offer of food and -drink and when some one started a political discussion -they conspired to draw him into it. He was County -Chairman of the party not then in power and complained -good-naturedly to the governor of the big -plurality Eastman had rolled up in the last election. -He talked slowly, with a kind of dogged emphasis, and -it was evident that politics was a subject to his taste. -His brown eyes, they were noting, were curiously -large and full, with a bilious tinge in the white. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -met a glance steadily, with, indeed, an almost disconcerting -directness.</p> - -<p>Where the governor sat became, by imperceptible -degrees, the head of the table as he began seriously -and frankly discussing the points of difference between -the existing parties, accompanied by clean-cut characterizations -of the great leaders.</p> - -<p>There was nothing to indicate that anything lay -behind his talk; to all appearances his auditors were -absorbed in what he was saying. Tate had accepted -a cigar, which he did not light but kept twisting slowly -in his thick fingers.</p> - -<p>“We Democrats have had to change our minds about -a good many things,” the governor was saying. “Of -course we’re not going back to Jefferson” (he smiled -broadly and waited for them to praise his magnanimity -in approaching so near to an impious admission), “but the -world has spun around a good many times since Jefferson’s -day. What I think we Democrats do and do -splendidly is to keep close to the changing current of -public opinion; sometimes it seems likely to wash us -down, as in the free-silver days; but we give, probably -without always realizing it, a chance for the people to -express themselves on new questions, and if we’ve -stood for some foolish policies at times the country’s -the better for having passed on them. These great -contests clear the air like a storm, and we all go peacefully -about our business afterward.”</p> - -<p>As he continued they were all covertly watching -Tate, who dropped his cigar and began playing -with the pencil before him, absently winding and unwinding -it upon the string that held it to the tablet. -They were feigning an absorption in the governor’s -recital which their quick, nervous glances at Tate’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -hand belied. Burgess had pushed back his chair to -face the governor more comfortably and was tying -knots in his napkin.</p> - -<p>Now and then Tate nodded solemnly in affirmation -of something the governor said, but without lifting his -eyes from the pencil. His broad shoulders were bent -over the table, and the men about him were reflecting -that this was probably an attitude into which his heavy -body often relaxed when he was pondering deeply.</p> - -<p>Wearying of the pencil—a trifle of the dance-card -variety—he dropped it and drew his own from his -waistcoat pocket. Then, after looking up to join in a -laugh at some indictment of Republicanism expressed -in droll terms by the governor, he drew the tablet -closer and, turning his head slightly to one side, drew a -straight line. Burgess frowned as several men changed -position the better to watch him. The silence deepened, -and the governor’s voice rose with a slight oratorical -ring. Through a half-open window floated the -click of billiard balls in the room below. The governor -having come down to the Wilson Administration, -went back to Cleveland, whom he praised as a great -leader and a great president. In normal circumstances -there would have been interruptions and questions and -an occasional jibe; and ordinarily the governor, who -was not noted for loquacity, would not have talked -twenty minutes at a stretch without giving an opportunity -to his companions to break in upon him. He -was talking, as they all knew, to give Tate time to draw -the odd device which it was his habit to sketch when -deeply engrossed.</p> - -<p>The pencil continued to move over the paper; and -from time to time Tate turned the pad and scrutinized -his work critically. The men immediately about him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -watched his hand, wide-eyed, fascinated. There was -something uncanny and unreal in the situation: it -was like watching a wild animal approaching a trap and -wholly unmindful of its danger. The square box which -formed the base of the device was traced clearly; the -arcs which were its familiar embellishment were carefully -added. The governor, having exhausted Cleveland, -went back to Jackson, and Tate finished a second -drawing, absorbed in his work and rarely lifting his -eyes.</p> - -<p>Seeing that Tate had tired of this pastime, the governor -brought his lecture to an end, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Great Scott, Burgess! Why haven’t you stopped -me! I’ve said enough here to ruin me with my party, -and you hadn’t the grace to shut me off.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad for one,” said Tate, pushing back the pad, -“that I got in in time to hear you; I’ve never known -before that any Democrat could be so broad-minded!”</p> - -<p>“The governor loosens up a good deal between campaigns,” -said Burgess, rising. “And now, let’s go into -the library where the chairs are easier.”</p> - -<p>The governor rose with the others, but remained -by his chair, talking to Tate, until the room cleared, -and then resumed his seat.</p> - -<p>“This is perfectly comfortable; let’s stay here, Mr. -Tate. Burgess, close the door, will you.”</p> - -<p>Tate hesitated, looked at his watch, and glanced at -Burgess, who sat down as though wishing to humor the -governor, and lighted a cigar.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Tate,” said the governor unhurriedly, “if I’m -not mistaken, you are George Avery’s brother-in-law.”</p> - -<p>Tate turned quickly, and his eyes widened in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered in slow, even tones; “Avery -married my sister.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>“Mr. Tate, I have in my pocket a pardon all ready -to sign, giving Avery his liberty. His case has troubled -me a good deal; I don’t want to sign this pardon unless -I’m reasonably sure of Avery’s innocence. If you were -in my place, Mr. Tate, would you sign it?”</p> - -<p>The color went out of the man’s face and his jaw fell; -but he recovered himself quickly.</p> - -<p>“Of course, governor, it would be a relief to me, to -my sister, all of us, if you could see your way to pardoning -George. As you know, I’ve been doing what I -could to bring pressure to bear on the Board of Pardons: -everything that seemed proper. Of course,” he went on -ingratiatingly, “we’ve all felt the disgrace of the thing.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Tate,” the governor interrupted, “I have -reason to believe that there was a third man at Avery’s -bungalow the night Reynolds was killed. I’ve been -at some pains to satisfy myself of that. Did that ever -occur to you as a possibility?”</p> - -<p>“I suspected that all along,” Tate answered, drawing -his handkerchief slowly across his face. “I never could -believe George Avery guilty; he wasn’t that kind of -man!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think he was myself,” the governor replied. -“Now, Mr. Tate, on the night of the murder you were -not at home, nor on the next day when your sister -called you on the long-distance telephone. You were -in Louisville, were you not?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, certainly; I was in Louisville.”</p> - -<p>“As a matter of fact, Mr. Tate, you were not in -Louisville! You were at Avery’s bungalow that night, -and you left the quarry station on a freight train that -was sidetracked on the quarry switch to allow the -Chicago train to pass. You rode to Davos, which -you reached at two o’clock in the morning. There you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -registered under a false name at the Gerber House, and -went home the next evening pretending to have been -at Louisville. You are a bachelor, and live in rooms -over your bank, and there was no one to keep tab on -your absences but your clerks, who naturally thought -nothing of your going to Louisville, where business -often takes you. You were there two days ago, I -believe. But that has nothing to do with this -matter. When you heard that Reynolds was dead and -Avery under suspicion you answered your sister’s -summons and hurried to Torrenceville.”</p> - -<p>“I was in Louisville; I was in Louisville, I tell you!” -Tate uttered the words in convulsive gasps. He -brushed the perspiration from his forehead impatiently -and half rose.</p> - -<p>“Please sit down, Mr. Tate. You had had trouble -a little while before that with Reynolds about some -stock in a creamery concern in your county that he -promoted. You thought he had tricked you, and very -possibly he had. The creamery business had resulted -in a bitter hostility between you: it had gone to such -an extent that he had refused to see you again to discuss -the matter. You brooded over that until you were not -quite sane where Reynolds was concerned: I’ll give -you the benefit of that. You asked your brother-in-law -to tell you when Reynolds was going to see him, and -he obligingly consented. We will assume that Avery, -a good fellow and anxious to aid you, made a meeting -possible. Reynolds wasn’t to know that you were to -be at the bungalow—he wouldn’t have gone if he had -known it—and Avery risked the success of his own -negotiations by introducing you into his house, out of -sheer good will and friendship. You sat at a table in the -bungalow living-room and discussed the matter. Some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -of these things only I have guessed at; the rest of it——”</p> - -<p>“It’s a lie; it’s all a damned lie! This was a scheme -to get me here: you and Burgess have set this up on me! -I tell you I wasn’t at the quarry; I never saw Reynolds -there that night or any other time. My God, if I had -been there,—if Avery could have put it on me, would -he be doing time for it?”</p> - -<p>“Not necessarily, Mr. Tate. Let us go back a little. -It had been in your power once to do Avery a great -favor, a very great favor. That’s true, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>Tate stared, clearly surprised, but his quivering lips -framed no answer.</p> - -<p>“You had known him from boyhood, and shortly -after his marriage to your sister it had been in your -power to do him a great favor; you had helped him out -of a hole and saved the quarry for him. It cost me -considerable money to find that out, Mr. Tate, and not -a word of help have I had from Avery: be sure of that! -He had been guilty of something just a little irregular—in -fact, the forging of your name to a note—and you -had dealt generously with him, out of your old-time -friendship, we will say, or to spare your sister humiliation.”</p> - -<p>“George was in a corner,” said Tate weakly but with -manifest relief at the turn of the talk. “He squared it -all long ago.”</p> - -<p>“It’s natural, in fact, instinctive, for a man to protect -himself, to exhaust all the possibilities of defense when -the law lays it hand upon him. Avery did not do so, -and his meek submission counted heavily against him. -But let us consider that a little. You and Reynolds -left the bungalow together, probably after the interview -had added to your wrath against him, but you wished -to renew the talk out of Avery’s hearing and volunteered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -to guide Reynolds to the station where the -Chicago train was to stop for him. You didn’t go -back, Mr. Tate——”</p> - -<p>“Good God, I tell you I wasn’t there! I can prove -that I was in Louisville; I tell you——”</p> - -<p>“We’re coming back to your alibi in a moment,” -said the governor patiently. “We will assume—merely -assume for the moment—that you said you -would take the train with Reynolds and ride as far as -Ashton, where the Midland crosses and you would get -an early morning train home. Avery went to sleep at -the bungalow wholly ignorant of what had happened; -he was awakened in the morning with news that Reynolds -had been killed by blows on the head inflicted -near the big derrick where you and Reynolds—I am -assuming again—had stopped to argue your grievances. -Avery—shocked, dazed, not comprehending his danger -and lying there in the bungalow prostrated and half-crazed -by the horror of the thing—waited: waited for -the prompt help he expected from the only living person -who knew that he had not left the bungalow. He -knew you only as a kind, helpful friend, and I dare say -at first he never suspected you! It was the last thing -in the world he would have attributed to you, and the -possibility of it was slow to enter his anxious, perturbed -mind. He had every reason for sitting tight in those -first hideous hours, confident that the third man at that -bungalow gathering would come forward and establish -his innocence with a word. As is the way in such cases, -efforts were made to fix guilt upon others; but Avery, -your friend, the man you had saved once, in a fine -spirit of magnanimity, waited for you to say the word -that would clear him. But you never said that word, -Mr. Tate. You took advantage of his silence; a silence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -due, we will say, to shock and horror at the catastrophe -and to his reluctance to believe you guilty of so monstrous -a crime or capable of allowing him, an innocent -man, to suffer the penalty for it.”</p> - -<p>Tate’s big eyes were bent dully upon the governor. -He averted his gaze slowly and reached for a glass of -water, but his hand shook so that he could not lift it, -and he glared at it as though it were a hateful thing.</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t there! Why——” he began with an -effort at bravado; but the words choked him and he sat -swinging his head from side to side and breathing -heavily.</p> - -<p>The governor went on in the same low, even tone he -had used from the beginning:</p> - -<p>“When Avery came to himself and you still were -silent, he doubtless saw that, having arranged for you -to meet Reynolds at the bungalow—Reynolds, who -had been avoiding you—he had put himself in the -position of an accessory before the fact and that -even if he told the truth about your being there he -would only be drawing you into the net without wholly -freeing himself. At best it was an ugly business, and -being an intelligent man he knew it. I gather that -you are a secretive man by nature; the people who know -you well in your own town say that of you. No one -knew that you had gone there and the burden of the -whole thing was upon Avery. And your tracks were -so completely hidden: you had been at such pains to -sneak down there to take advantage of the chance -Avery made for you to see Reynolds and have it out with -him about the creamery business, that suspicion never -attached to you. You knew Avery as a good fellow, -a little weak, perhaps, as you learned from that forgery -of your name ten years earlier; and it would have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -his word against yours. I’ll say to you, Mr. Tate, that -I’ve lain awake at nights thinking about this case, and -I know of nothing more pitiful, my imagination can -conjure nothing more horrible, than the silent suffering -of George Avery as he waited for you to go to his rescue, -knowing that you alone could save him.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it!” Tate reiterated in -a hoarse whisper that died away with a queer guttural -sound in his throat.</p> - -<p>“And now about your alibi, Mr. Tate; the alibi that -you were never even called on to establish,” the governor -reached for the tablet and held it before the man’s -eyes, which focused upon it slowly, uncomprehendingly. -“Now,” said the governor, “you can hardly deny that -you drew that sketch, for I saw you do it with my own -eyes. I’m going to ask you, Mr. Tate, whether this -drawing isn’t also your work?”</p> - -<p>He drew out the sheet of paper he had shown the -others earlier in the evening and placed it beside the -tablet. Tate jumped to his feet, staring wild-eyed, -and a groan escaped him. The governor caught his -arm and pushed him back into his chair.</p> - -<p>“You will see that that is Avery’s letter-head that -was used in the quarry office. As you talked there with -Reynolds that night you played with a pencil as you -did here a little while ago and without realizing it you -were creating evidence against yourself that was all I -needed to convince me absolutely of your guilt. I -have three other sheets of Avery’s paper bearing the -same figure that you drew that night at the quarry -office; and I have others collected in your own office -within a week! As you may be aware, the power of -habit is very strong. For years, no doubt, your subconsciousness -has carried that device, and in moments<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -of deep abstraction with wholly unrelated things your -hand has traced it. Even the irregularities in the outline -are identical, and the size and shading are precisely -the same. I ask you again, Mr. Tate, shall I sign the -pardon I brought here in my pocket and free George -Avery?”</p> - -<p>The sweat dripped from Tate’s forehead and trickled -down his cheeks in little streams that shone in the light. -His collar had wilted at the fold, and he ran his finger -round his neck to loosen it. Once, twice, he lifted his -head defiantly, but, meeting the governor’s eyes fixed -upon him relentlessly, his gaze wavered. He thrust -his hand under his coat and drew out his pencil and -then, finding it in his fingers, flung it away, and his -shoulders drooped lower.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Burgess stood by the window with his back to them. -The governor spoke to him, and he nodded and left the -room. In a moment he returned with two men and -closed the door quickly.</p> - -<p>“Hello, warden; sit down a moment, will you?”</p> - -<p>The governor turned to a tall, slender man whose -intense pallor was heightened by the brightness of his -oddly staring blue eyes. He advanced slowly. His -manner was that of a blind man moving cautiously in -an unfamiliar room. The governor smiled reassuringly -into his white, impassive face.</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad to see you, Mr. Avery,” he said. -He rose and took Avery by the hand.</p> - -<p>At the name Tate’s head went up with a jerk. His -chair creaked discordantly as he turned, looked up into -the masklike face behind him, and then the breath went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -out of him with a sharp, whistling sound as when a man -dies, and he lunged forward with his arms flung out -upon the table.</p> - -<p>The governor’s grip tightened upon Avery’s hand; -there was something of awe in his tone when he spoke.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t be afraid, Avery,” he said. “My way -of doing this is a little hard, I know, but it seemed the -only way. I want you to tell me,” he went on slowly, -“whether Tate was at the bungalow the night Reynolds -was killed. He was there, wasn’t he?”</p> - -<p>Avery wavered, steadied himself with an effort, and -slowly shook his head. The governor repeated his -question in a tone so low that Burgess and the warden, -waiting at the window, barely heard. A third time he -asked the question. Avery’s mouth opened, but he only -wet his lips with a quick, nervous movement of the -tongue, and his eyes met the governor’s unseeingly.</p> - -<p>The governor turned from him slowly, and his left -hand fell upon Tate’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>“If you are not guilty, Tate, now is the time for you -to speak. I want you to say so before Avery; that’s -what I’ve brought him here for. I don’t want to make -a mistake. If you say you believe Avery to be guilty, -I will not sign his pardon.”</p> - -<p>He waited, watching Tate’s hands as they opened and -shut weakly; they seemed, as they lay inert upon the -table, to be utterly dissociated from him, the hands of -an automaton whose mechanism worked imperfectly. -A sob, deep, hoarse, pitiful, shook his burly form.</p> - -<p>The governor sat down, took a bundle of papers from -his pocket, slipped one from under the rubber band -which snapped back sharply into place. He drew out -a pen, tested the point carefully, then, steadying it -with his left hand, wrote his name.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>“Warden,” he said, waving the paper to dry the ink; -“thank you for your trouble. You will have to go home -alone. Avery is free.”</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>When Burgess appeared at the bank at ten o’clock -the next morning he found his friends of the night before -established in the directors’ room waiting for him. -They greeted him without their usual chaff, and he -merely nodded to all comprehendingly and seated -himself on the table.</p> - -<p>“We don’t want to bother you, Web,” said Colton, -“but I guess we’d all feel better if we knew what happened -after we left you last night. I hope you don’t -mind.”</p> - -<p>Burgess frowned and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“You ought to thank God you didn’t have to see the -rest of it! I’ve got a reservation on the Limited tonight: -going down to the big city in the hope of getting it out -of my mind.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we know only what the papers printed this -morning,” said Ramsay; “a very brief paragraph -saying that Avery had been pardoned. The papers -don’t tell the story of his crime as they usually do, and -we noticed that they refrained from saying that the -pardon was signed at one of your dinner parties.”</p> - -<p>“I fixed the newspapers at the governor’s request. -He didn’t want any row made about it, and neither did -I, for that matter. Avery is at my house. His wife -was there waiting for him when I took him home.”</p> - -<p>“We rather expected that,” said Colton, “as we were -planted at the library windows when you left the club. -But about the other man: that’s what’s troubling us.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>“Um,” said Burgess, crossing his legs and clasping -his knees. “<i>That</i> was the particular hell of it.”</p> - -<p>“Tate was guilty; we assume that of course,” suggested -Fullerton. “We all saw him signing his death -warrant right there at the table.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Burgess replied gravely, “and he virtually -admitted it; but if God lets me live I hope never to see -anything like that again!”</p> - -<p>He jumped down and took a turn across the room.</p> - -<p>“And now—— After that, Web?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it won’t take long to tell it. After the governor -signed the pardon I told the warden to take Avery -downstairs and get him a drink: the poor devil was all in. -And then Tate came to, blubbering like the vile coward -he is, and began pleading for mercy: on his knees, -mind you; on his <i>knees</i>! God! It was horrible—horrible -beyond anything I ever dreamed of—to see him -groveling there. I supposed, of course, the governor -would turn him over to the police. I was all primed for -that, and Tate expected it and bawled like a sick calf. -But what he said was—what the governor said was, -and he said it the way they say ‘dust to dust’ over a -grave—‘You poor fool, for such beasts as you the -commonwealth has no punishment that wouldn’t -lighten the load you’ve got to carry around with you -till you die!’ That’s all there was of it! That’s exactly -what he said, and can you beat it? I got a room for -Tate at the club, and told one of the Japs to put him to -bed.”</p> - -<p>“But the governor had no right,” began Ramsay -eagerly; “he had no <i>right</i>——”</p> - -<p>“The king can do no wrong! And, if you fellows -don’t mind, the incident is closed, and we’ll never speak -of it again.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">WRONG NUMBER</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">They</span> called him Wrong Number in the bank because -he happened so often and was so annoying. His presence -in the White River National was painful to bookkeepers, -tellers and other practical persons connected -with this financial Gibraltar because, without having -any definite assignment, he was always busy. He was -carried on the rolls as a messenger, though he performed -none of the duties commonly associated with the vocation, -calling or job of a bank messenger. No one assumed -responsibility for Wrong Number, not even the -Cashier or the First Vice President, and such rights, -powers and immunities as he enjoyed were either self-conferred -or were derived from the President, Mr. -Webster G. Burgess.</p> - -<p>Wrong Number’s true appellation as disclosed by -the payroll was Clarence E. Tibbotts, and the cynical -note-teller averred that the initial stood for Elmer. A -small, compact figure, fair hair, combed to onion-skin -smoothness, a pinkish face and baby blue eyes—there -was nothing in Wrong Number’s appearance to arouse -animosity in any but the stoniest heart. Wrong Number -was polite, he was unfailingly cheerful, and when -called upon to assist in one place or another he responded -with alacrity and no one had reason to complain -of his efficiency. He could produce a letter from -the files quicker than the regular archivist, or he could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -play upon the adding machine as though it were an -instrument of ten strings. No one had ever taught him -anything; no one had the slightest intention of teaching -him anything, and yet by imperceptible degrees, he, -as a free lance, passed through a period of mild tolerance -into acceptance as a valued and useful member -of the staff. In the Liberty Loan rushes that well-nigh -swamped the department, Wrong Number knew -the answers to all the questions that were fired through -the wickets. Distracted ladies who had lost their receipts -for the first payment and timidly reported this -fact found Wrong Number patient and helpful. An -early fear in the cages that the president had put Wrong -Number into the bank as a spy upon the clerical force -was dispelled, when it became known that the young -man did on several occasions, conceal or connive at -concealing some of those slight errors and inadvertencies -that happen in the best regulated of banks. Wrong -Number was an enigma, an increasing mystery, nor was -he without his enjoyment of his associates’ mystification.</p> - -<p>Wrong Number’s past, though veiled in mist in the -White River National, may here be fully and truthfully -disclosed. To understand Wrong Number one -must also understand Mr. Webster G. Burgess, his -discoverer and patron. In addition to being an astute -and successful banker, Mr. Burgess owned a string of -horses and sent them over various circuits at the usual -seasons, and he owned a stock farm of high repute as -may be learned by reference to any of the authoritative -stud books. If his discreet connection with the racetrack -encouraged the belief that Mr. Burgess was what -is vulgarly termed a “sport,” his prize-winning short-horns -in conjunction with his generous philanthropies -did much to minimize the sin of the racing stable.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>Mr. Burgess “took care of his customers,” a heavenly -attribute in any banker, and did not harass them unnecessarily. -Other bankers in town who passed the -plate every Sunday in church and knew nothing of -Horse might be suspicious and nervous and even disagreeable -in a pinch, but Mr. Burgess’s many admirers -believed that he derived from his association with -Horse a breadth of vision and an optimism peculiarly -grateful to that considerable number of merchants and -manufacturers who appreciate a liberal line of credit. -Mr. Burgess was sparing of language and his “Yes” -and “No” were equally pointed and final. Some of -his utterances, such as a warning to the hand-shaking -Vice president, “Don’t bring any anemic people into -my office,” were widely quoted in business circles. -“This is a bank, not the sheriff’s office,” he remarked -to a customer who was turning a sharp corner. “I’ve -told the boys to renew your notes. Quit sobbing and -get back on your job.”</p> - -<p>It was by reason of their devotion to Horse that -Burgess and Wrong Number met and knew instantly -that the fates had ordained the meeting. Wrong Number -had grown up in the equine atmosphere of Lexington—the -Lexington of the Blue Grass, and his knowledge -of the rest of the world was gained from his -journeys to race meets with specimens of the horse -kind. Actors are not more superstitious than horsemen -and from the time he became a volunteer assistant -to the stablemen on the big horse farm the superstition -gained ground among the <i>cognoscenti</i> that the wings of -the Angel of Good Luck had brushed his tow head and -that he was a mascot of superior endowment. As he -transferred his allegiance from one stable to another -luck followed him, and when he picked, one year, as a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> -Derby winner the unlikeliest horse on the card and -that horse galloped home an easy winner, weird and -uncanny powers were attributed to Wrong Number.</p> - -<p>Burgess had found him sitting on an upturned pail -in front of the stable that housed “Lord Templeton” -at six o’clock of the morning of the day the stallion -strode away from a brilliant field and won an enviable -prestige for the Burgess stables. Inspired by Wrong -Number’s confidence, Burgess had backed “Lord Templeton” -far more heavily than he had intended and as -a result was enabled to credit a small fortune to his -horse account. For four seasons the boy followed -the Burgess string and in winter made himself useful -on the Burgess farm somewhere north of the Ohio. -He showed a genius for acquiring information and was -cautious in expressing opinions; he was industrious in -an unobtrusive fashion; and he knew about all there -is to know about the care and training of horses. Being -a prophet he saw the beginning of the end of the -Horse Age and sniffed gasoline without resentment, -and could take an automobile to pieces and put it -together again. Burgess was his ideal of a gentleman, -a banker, and a horseman, and he carried his idolatry -to the point of imitating his benefactor in manner, -dress and speech. Finding that Wrong Number was -going into town for a night course in a business college, -Burgess paid the bill, and seeing that Wrong -Number at twenty-two had outgrown Horse and aspired -to a career in finance, Burgess took him into the bank -with an injunction to the cashier to “turn him loose -in the lot.”</p> - -<p>While Mrs. Burgess enjoyed the excitement and -flutter of grandstands, her sense of humor was unequal -to a full appreciation of the social charm of those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -gentlemen who live in close proximity to Horse. Their -ways and their manners and their dialect did not in -fact amuse her, and she entertained an utterly unwarranted -suspicion that they were not respectable. It -was with the gravest doubts and misgivings that she -witnessed the rise of Wrong Number who, after that -young gentleman’s transfer to the bank, turned up in -the Burgess town house rather frequently and had -even adorned her table.</p> - -<p>On an occasion Web had wired her from Chicago -that he couldn’t get home for a certain charity concert -which she had initiated and suggested that she commandeer -Wrong Number as an escort; and as no other -man of her acquaintance was able or willing to represent -the shirking Webster, she did in fact utilize Wrong -Number. She was obliged to confess that he had -been of the greatest assistance to her and that but for -his prompt and vigorous action the programmes, which -had not been delivered at the music hall, would never -have been recovered from the theatre to which an -erring messenger had carried them. Wrong Number, -arrayed in evening dress, had handed her in and out -of her box and made himself agreeable to three other -wives of tired business men who loathed concerts and -pleaded important business engagements whenever -their peace was menaced by classical music. Mrs. -Burgess’s bitterness toward Webster for his unaccountable -interest in Wrong Number was abated somewhat -by these circumstances though she concealed the fact -and berated him for his desertion in an hour of need.</p> - -<p>Webster G. Burgess was enormously entertained by -his wife’s social and philanthropic enterprises and he -was proud of her ability to manage things. Their two -children were away at school and at such times as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -they dined alone at home the table was the freest -confessional for her activities. She never understood -why Webster evinced so much greater interest and -pleasure in her reports of the warring factions than in -affairs that moved smoothly under her supreme direction.</p> - -<p>“You know, Web,” she began on an evening during -the progress of the Great War, after watching her -spouse thrust his fork with satisfaction into a pudding -she had always found successful in winning him to an -amiable mood; “you know, Web, that Mrs. Gurley -hasn’t the slightest sense of fitness,—no tact,—no -delicacy!”</p> - -<p>“You’ve hinted as much before,” said Webster placidly. -“Cleaned you up in a club election?”</p> - -<p>“Web!” ejaculated Mrs. Burgess disdainfully. “You -know perfectly well she was completely snowed under -at the Women’s Civic League election. Do you think -after all I did to start that movement I’d let such a -woman take the presidency away from me? It isn’t -that I <i>cared</i> for it; heaven knows I’ve got enough to -do without that!”</p> - -<p>“Right!” affirmed Burgess readily. “But what’s -she put over on you now?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess lifted her head quickly from a scrutiny -of the percolator flame.</p> - -<p>“Put over! Don’t you think I give her any chance -to put anything over! I wouldn’t have her <i>think</i> for -a minute that she was in any sense a <i>rival</i>.”</p> - -<p>“No; nothing vulgar and common like that,” agreed -Webster.</p> - -<p>“But that woman’s got the idea that she’s going to -entertain all the distinguished people that come here. -And the Gurleys have only been here two years and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -we’ve lived here all our lives! It’s nothing to me, of -course, but you know there <i>is</i> a certain dignity in being -an old family, even here, and my great grandfather -was a pioneer governor, and yours was the first State -treasurer and that ought to count and always <i>has</i> -counted. And the Gurleys made all their money out -of tomatoes and pickles in a few years; and since they -came to town they’ve just been <i>forcing</i> themselves -everywhere.”</p> - -<p>“I’d hardly say that,” commented Burgess. “There’s -no stone wall around this town. I was on a committee -of the Chamber of Commerce that invited Gurley to -move his canning factory here.”</p> - -<p>“And after that he was brazen enough to take his -account to the Citizen’s!” exclaimed Mrs. Burgess.</p> - -<p>“That wasn’t altogether Gurley’s fault, Gertie,” replied -Burgess, softly.</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean, Web——”</p> - -<p>“I mean that we could have had his account if we’d -wanted it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m glad we’re under no obligations to carry -them round.”</p> - -<p>“We’re not, if that’s the way you see it. But Mrs. -Gurley wears pretty good clothes,” he suggested, meditatively -removing the wrapper from his cigar.</p> - -<p>“Webster Burgess, you don’t <i>mean</i>——”</p> - -<p>“I mean that she’s smartly set up. You’ve got to -hand it to her, particularly for hats.”</p> - -<p>“You never see what I wear! You haven’t paid the -slightest attention to anything I’ve worn for ten years! -You ought to be ashamed of yourself! That woman -buys all her clothes in New York, every stitch and -feather, and they cost five times what I spend! With -the war going on, I don’t feel that it’s <i>right</i> for a woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -to spread herself on clothes. You know you said yourself -we ought to economize, and I discharged Marie -and cut down the household bills. Marie was worth -the fifty dollars a month I paid her for the cleaner’s -bills she saved me.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burgess was at all times difficult to tease, and -Webster was conscious that he had erred grievously in -broaching the matter of Mrs. Gurley’s apparel, which -had never interested him a particle. He listened humbly -as Mrs. Burgess gave a detailed account of her -expenditures for raiment for several years, and revealed -what she had never meant to tell him, that out of her -personal allowance she was caring for eight French -orphans in addition to the dozen she had told him -about.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re a mighty fine girl, Gertie. You know -I think so.”</p> - -<p>The tears in Mrs. Burgess’s eyes made necessary some -more tangible expression of his affection than this, so -he walked round and kissed her, somewhat to the consternation -of the butler who at that moment appeared to clear the table.</p> - -<p>“As to money,” he continued when they had reached -the living-room, “I got rid of some stock I thought was -a dead one the other day and I meant to give you a -couple of thousand. You may consider it’s yours for -clothes or orphans or anything you like.”</p> - -<p>She murmured her gratitude as she took up her -knitting but he saw that the wound caused by his -ungallant reference to Mrs. Gurley’s wardrobe had not -been healed by a kiss and two thousand dollars. Gertrude -Burgess was a past mistress of the art of -extracting from any such situation its fullest potentialities -of compensation. And Webster knew as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -he fumbled the evening newspaper that before he -departed for the meeting of the War Chest Committee -that demanded his presence downtown at eight o’clock -he must make it easy for her to pour out her latest -grievances against Mrs. Gurley. He is a poor husband -who hasn’t learned the value of the casual approach. -To all outward appearances he had forgotten Mrs. -Gurley and for that matter Mrs. Burgess as well when, -without looking up from the Government estimate of -the winter wheat acreage, he remarked with a perfectly-feigned -absent air:</p> - -<p>“By-the-way, Gertie, you started to say something -about that Gurley woman. Been breaking into your -fences somewhere?”</p> - -<p>“If I thought you would be interested, Web——”</p> - -<p>This on both sides was mere routine, a part of the -accepted method, the established technique of mollification.</p> - -<p>“Of course I want to hear it,” said Webster, throwing -the paper down and planting himself at ease before her -with his back to the fire.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want you to think me unkind or unjust, -Web, but there are <i>some</i> things, you know!”</p> - -<p>He admitted encouragingly that there were indeed -some things and bade her go on.</p> - -<p>“Well, what made me very indignant was the way -that woman walked off with the Italian countess who -was here last week to speak to our Red Cross workers. -You know I wired Senator Saybrook to extend an invitation -to the Countess to come to our house, and he -wrote me that he had called on her at the Italian -Embassy and she had accepted; and then when the -Countess came and I went to the station to meet her, -Mrs. Gurley was there all dressed up and carried her off<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -to her house. For sheer impudence, Web, that beat -anything I ever heard of. Every one <i>knows</i> our home -is always open and it had been in the papers that we -were to entertain the Countess Paretti. It was not only -a reflection on me, Web, but on you as well. And of -course the poor Countess wasn’t to blame, with all the -hurry and confusion at the station, and she didn’t -know me from Adam; and Mrs. Gurley simply captured -her—it was really a case of the most shameless kidnapping—and -hurried her into her limousine and took -her right off to her house.”</p> - -<p>“Well, after the time you’d spent thinking up Italian -dishes for the lady to consume, I should say that the -spaghetti was on us,” said Burgess, recalling with relief -that the Countess’ failure to honor his home had -released him for dinner with a British aviator who had -proved to be a very amusing and interesting person. -“I meant to ask you how the Gurleys got into the -sketch. It was a contemptible thing to do, all right. -No wonder you’re bitter about it. I’ll cheerfully punch -Gurley’s head if that’ll do any good.”</p> - -<p>“What I’ve been thinking about, Web, is this,” -said Mrs. Burgess, meditatively. “You know there’s an -Illyrian delegation coming to town, a special envoy of -some of the highest civil and military officials of poor -war-swept Illyria. And I heard this afternoon that -the Gurleys mean to carry them all to their house for -luncheon when the train arrives Thursday at noon just -before Governor Eastman receives them at the statehouse, -where there’s to be a big public meeting. The -Gurleys have had their old congressman from Taylorville -extend the invitation in Washington and of course -the Illyrians wouldn’t <i>know</i>, Web.”</p> - -<p>“They would not,” said Webster. “The fame of our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -domestic cuisine probably hasn’t reached Illyria and -the delegation would be sure to form a low opinion of -Western victualing if they feed at the Gurleys. The -Gurleys probably think it a chance to open up a new -market for their well-known Eureka brand of catsup in -Illyria after the war.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be absurd!” admonished Mrs. Burgess.</p> - -<p>“I’m not absurd; I’m indignant,” Webster averred. -“Put your cards on the table and let’s have a look. -What you want to do, Gertie, is to hand the Gurleys one -of their own sour pickles. I sympathize fully with your -ambition to retaliate. I’ll go further than that,” -he added with a covert glance at the clock; “I’ll see -what I can do to turn the trick!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see <i>how</i> it can be done without doing something -we can’t stoop to do,” replied Mrs. Burgess with -a hopeful quaver in her voice.</p> - -<p>“We must do no stooping,” Webster agreed heartily. -“It would be far from us to resort to the coarse kidnapping -tactics of the Gurleys. And of course you -can’t go to the mat with Mrs. Gurley in the trainshed. -A rough and tumble scrap right there before the Illyrians -would be undignified and give ’em a quaint notion -of the social habits of the corn belt. But gently and -firmly to guide the Illyrian commissioners to our humble -home, throw them a luncheon, show ’em the family -album and after the show at the statehouse give ’em -a whirl to the art institute, and walk ’em through the -Illyrian relief rooms, where a pretty little Illyrian girl -dressed in her native costume would hand ’em flowers—that’s -the ticket.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Web, you are always so helpful when you want -to be! That’s the most beautiful idea about the flowers. -And perhaps a <i>group</i> of Illyrian children would do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -some folk dances! I’m sure the visitors would be -deeply touched by that.”</p> - -<p>“It would certainly make a hit,” said Webster, -feeling that he was once more rehabilitated in his wife’s -affections and confidence. “You say the Gurleys’ -publicity agent has already gazetted their hospitable -designs? Excellent! The more advance work they -do on the job the better. We’ll give a jar to the -pickles—that’s the game! Did you get that, Gertie? -Pickles, a jar of pickles; a jar to the pickle industry?”</p> - -<p>“I was thinking,” said Mrs. Burgess, with a far-away -look in her eyes, “how charming the folk dances would -be and I must see the settlement house superintendent -about choosing just the <i>right</i> children. But, Web, -is it <i>possible</i> to do this so <i>no one</i> will know?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about that,” he assured her. “Arrange -your luncheon and do it right. I’ve heard somewhere -that a great delicacy in Illyria is broiled grasshoppers, -or maybe it’s centipedes. Better look that -up to be sure not to poison our faithful ally. You’d -better whisper to Mrs. Eastman that you’ll want the -Governor, but tell her it’s to meet a prison reformer or -a Congo missionary; Eastman is keen on those lines. -And ask a few pretty girls and look up the Illyrian religion -and get a bishop to suit.”</p> - -<p>“But you haven’t told me how you <i>mean</i> to do it, -Web. Of course we must be careful——”</p> - -<p>“Careful!” repeated Burgess shaking himself into -his top coat in the hall door. “My name is discretion. -You needn’t worry about that part of it! The whole -business will be taken care of; dead or alive you shall -have the Illyrians.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span></p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Wrong Number, locked up in the directors’ room of -the White River National, studied timetables and maps -and newspaper clippings bearing upon the Western -pilgrimage of the Illyrian Commission. In fifty words -Webster G. Burgess had transferred to his shoulders -full responsibility for producing the Illyrians in the -Burgess home, warning him it must be done with all -dignity and circumspection.</p> - -<p>“That’s for expenses,” said Burgess, handing him -a roll of bills. “This job isn’t a bank transaction—you -get me? It’s strictly a social event.”</p> - -<p>Wrong Number betrayed no perturbation as the -president stated the case. Matters of delicacy had -been confided to him before by his patron—the study -of certain horses he thought of buying and wished -an honest report on, the cautious sherlocking of a -country-town customer who was flying higher than his -credit; the disposal of the stock of an automobile dealer -whose business had jumped ahead of his capital;—such -tasks as these Wrong Number had performed to -the entire satisfaction of his employer.</p> - -<p>In a new fall suit built by Burgess’s tailor, with a -green stripe instead of a blue to differentiate it from the -president’s latest, and with a white carnation in his -lapel (Mrs. Burgess provided a pink one for Web every -morning), Wrong Number brooded over this new -problem for two days before he became a man of action.</p> - -<p>His broad democracy made him a familiar visitor to -cigar stands, billiard parlors, gun stores, soft drink bars -and cheap hotels where one encounters horsemen, -expert trap shooters, pugilists, book-makers, and other -agreeable characters never met in fashionable clubs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -After much thought he chose as his co-conspirator, -Peterson, a big Swede, to whom he had advanced money -with which to open a Turkish bath. As the bath was -flourishing the Swede welcomed an opportunity to -express his gratitude to one he so greatly admired; -and besides he still owed Wrong Number two hundred -dollars.</p> - -<p>“I want a coupla guys that will look right in tall -hats,” said Wrong Number. “You’ll do for one; you’ll -make up fine for the Illyrian Minister of Foreign Affairs,—he’s -a tall chap, you’ll see from that picture of the -bunch being received at the New York city hall. Then -you want a little weazened cuss who won’t look like -an undertaker in a frock coat to stand for the Minister -of Finance. We need four more to complete the string -and they gotta have uniforms. Comic opera hats with -feathers—you can’t make ’em too fancy.”</p> - -<p>The Swede nodded. The Uniform Rank of the Order -of the Golden Buck of which he was a prominent member -could provide the very thing.</p> - -<p>“And I gotta have one real Illyrian to spout the -language to the delegation.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with Bensaris who runs a candy -shop near where I live? He’s the big squeeze among -’em.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll go down and see him. Remember, he don’t -need to know anything; just do what I tell him. There’s -a hundred in this for you, Pete, if you pull it right; -expenses extra.”</p> - -<p>“The cops might pinch us,” suggested Peterson, -warily. “And what you goin’ to do about the Mayor? -It says in the papers that the Mayor meets the outfit -at the Union Station.”</p> - -<p>“If the cops ask the countersign tell ’em you turned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -out to meet the remains of a deceased brother. And -don’t worry about the Mayor. He’s been over the -Grand Circuit with me and brought his money home -in a trunk.”</p> - -<p>He drew a memorandum book from his pocket and -set down the following items:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<p>Pete. 2 silk hats; five uni.<br /> -Band.<br /> -Bensaris.<br /> -Mayor.<br /> -5 touring cars.</p> -</div></div> - -<p>“The honor, it is too much!” pleaded Bensaris when -Wrong Number and Peterson told him all it was -necessary for him to know, at a little table in the rear -of his shop. “But in the day’s paper my daughter read -me their excellencies be met at the Union Station; -the arrange’ have been change’?”</p> - -<p>“The papers are never right,” declared Wrong Number. -“And you don’t need to tell ’em anything.”</p> - -<p>“A lady, Mees Burgett, she came here to arrange all -Illyrians go to Relief office to sing the songs of my -country. My daughter, she shall dance and hand -flowers to their excellencies!” cried Bensaris beaming.</p> - -<p>“The Bensaris family will be featured right through -the bill,” said Wrong Number.</p> - -<p>“It is too kind,” insisted Bensaris. “It is for the -Mayor you make the arrange’?”</p> - -<p>“I represent the financial interests of our city,” -Wrong Number replied. “You want to go the limit -in dressing up the automobiles; make ’em look like -Fourth o’ July in your native O’Learyo. Where do -we doll ’em up, Pete?”</p> - -<p>A garage of a friend in the next block would serve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -admirably and Peterson promised to co-operate with -Bensaris in doing the job properly.</p> - -<p>“Tail coat and two-gallon hat for Mr. Bensaris,” -said Wrong Number. “Pete, you look after that.” -He pressed cash upon Mr. Bensaris and noted the -amount in his book. “We’ll call it a heat,” he said, -and went uptown to pilot Mr. Webster G. Burgess -to a ten round match for points between two local -amateurs that was being pulled off behind closed doors -in an abandoned skating rink.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>The Illyrian Commission had just breakfasted when -their train reached Farrington on the State line, where -the Mayor of the capital city, Mr. Clarence E. Tibbotts, -<i>alias</i> Wrong Number, and Mr. Zoloff Bensaris, all in -shining hats, boarded the train.</p> - -<p>Having studied the portraits of the distinguished -Illyrians in a Sunday supplement provided by Mr. -Tibbotts, Mr. Bensaris effected the introductions without -an error, and having been carefully coached by -the same guide he did not handle his two-gallon hat -as though it were a tray of chocolate sundaes. The -kindness of the mayor and his associates in coming so -far to meet the Commission deeply touched the visitors. -The Fourth Assistant Secretary of State, who was doing -the honors of the American government, heard without -emotion of the slight changes in the programme.</p> - -<p>“We thought the Commission would be tired of the -train,” explained Wrong Number, who was relieved to -find that his cutaway was of the same vintage as the -Fourth Assistant Secretary’s; “so we get off at the -first stop this side of town and motor in.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>“Luncheon at Mr. Gurley’s,” said the Secretary, -consulting a sheaf of telegrams.</p> - -<p>“Had to change that, too,” said Wrong Number -carelessly; “they have scarlet fever at the Gurleys. -The Webster G. Burgesses will throw the luncheon.”</p> - -<p>The Secretary made a note of the change and thrust -his papers into his pocket. Mr. Tibbotts handed -round his cigarette case, a silver trinket bearing “Lord -Templeton’s” head in enamel relief, a Christmas gift -from Mr. Webster G. Burgess, and joined in a discussion -of the morning’s news from the Balkans, where -the Illyrian troops were acquitting themselves with the -highest credit.</p> - -<p>When the suburban villas of Ravenswood began to -dance along the windows, Mr. Tibbotts marshaled his -party and as they stepped from the private car a band -struck up the Illyrian national hymn. Several dozen -students from the nearby college who chanced to be -at the station raised a cheer. As the Illyrians were -piloted across the platform to the fleet of waiting automobiles, -the spectators were interested in the movements -of another party,—a party fully as distinguished -in appearance—that emerged from the station and -tripped briskly into a sleeper farther along in the train -that had discharged the Illyrians. Here, too, were -silk hats upon two sober-looking gentlemen who could -hardly be other than statesmen, and uniforms of great -splendor upon five stalwart forms, with topping plumes -waving blithely in the autumn air. And out of the -corner of his eye Mr. Clarence E. Tibbotts, just seating -himself in a big touring car, between the Fourth -Assistant Secretary of State and the Illyrian Minister -of Finance, saw Peterson’s work, and knew that it -was good.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>The procession swept into town at a lively clip, set -by the driver of the first car, that bore the Mayor -and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, which was driven -by a victor of many motor speed trials carefully chosen -by Wrong Number for this important service. The -piquant flavor of Wrong Number’s language as he -pointed out objects of interest amused the American -Secretary, much bored in his pilgrimages by the solemnities -of reception committees, and it served also to -convince the Illyrian Minister of Finance of the inadequacy -of his own English.</p> - -<p>Lusty cheering greeted the party as it moved slowly -through the business district. When the Illyrian Minister -and the Fourth Secretary lifted their hats Wrong -Number kept time with them; he enjoyed lifting his -hat. He enjoyed also a view of half a dozen clerks on -the steps of the White River National, who cheered -deliriously as they espied their associate and hastened -within to spread the news of his latest exploit through -the cages.</p> - -<p>It is fortunate that Mr. Tibbotts had taken the -precaution to plant a motion-picture camera opposite -the Burgess home, for otherwise the historical student -of the future might be puzzled to find that the first -edition of the <i>Evening Journal</i> of that day showed the -Illyrian delegation passing through the gates of the -Union Station, with a glimpse of Mrs. Arnold D. -Gurley handing a large bouquet of roses to a tall -gentleman who was not in fact the Illyrian Minister -of Foreign Affairs but the proprietor of Peterson’s bath -parlors. The <i>Journal</i> suppressed its pictures in later -editions, thereby saving its face, and printed without -illustrations an excellent account of the reception of -the Illyrians at Ravenswood and of the luncheon, from -facts furnished by Mr. Tibbotts, who stood guard at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -the door of the Burgess home while the function was -in progress in the dining room.</p> - -<p>Who ate Mrs. Gurley’s luncheon is a moot question -in the select circles of the capital city. Peterson and -his party might have enjoyed the repast had not the -proprietor of the bath parlors, after accepting Mrs. -Gurley’s bouquet at the station gates, vanished with -his accomplices in the general direction of their lodge -room of the Order of the Golden Buck.</p> - -<p>When foolish reporters tried to learn at the City -Hall why the Mayor had changed without warning -the plans for the reception, that official referred them -to the Secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, who -in turn directed the inquirers to the Governor’s office -and the Governor, having been properly admonished -by his wife, knew nothing whatever about it.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>As the Burgesses were reviewing the incidents of the -day at dinner that evening, Mrs. Burgess remarked -suddenly,</p> - -<p>“Now that it’s all over, Web, do you think it was -quite fair, really <i>right</i>?”</p> - -<p>“You mean,” asked Webster, huskily, “that you’re -not satisfied with the way it was handled?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not that! But it was almost <i>too</i> complete; and -poor Mrs. Gurley must be horribly humiliated.”</p> - -<p>“Crushed, I should say,” remarked Webster cheerfully. -“This ought to hold her for a while.”</p> - -<p>“But that fake delegation you had at the station to -deceive Mrs. Gurley——”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” Webster interrupted, “I assure -you I had nothing to do with it.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>“Well, all I <i>know</i> is that just before dinner Mrs. -Eastman called me up and said the Governor had just -telephoned her that Mrs. Gurley tried to <i>kiss</i> the hand -of some man she took for the Illyrian Minister of -Foreign Affairs as he went through the station gates. -And the man is nothing but a rubber in a Turkish bath. -You <i>wouldn’t</i> have done that, Web, would you?”</p> - -<p>“No, dear, I would not! For one thing, I wouldn’t -have been smart enough to think it up.”</p> - -<p>“And you know, Web, I shouldn’t want you to think -me mean and envious and jealous. I’m not really that -way; you know I’m not! And of course if I’d thought -you’d really bring the Illyrians here, I should never -have mentioned it at all.”</p> - -<p>Webster passed his hand across his brow in bewilderment. -At moments when he thought he was meeting -the most exacting requirements of the marital relationship -it was enormously disturbing to find himself -defeated.</p> - -<p>“Your luncheon was a great success; the talk at the -table was wonderful; and the girls you brought in made -a big hit. It’s the best party you ever pulled off,” he -declared warmly.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you think so,” she said slowly, giving him -her direct gaze across the table, “but there were one -or two things I didn’t quite like, Web. It seemed to -me your young friend Tibbotts was a little <i>too</i> conspicuous. -I’m surprised that you let him come to -the house. You couldn’t—you <i>wouldn’t</i> have let him -<i>know</i> how the Illyrians came here? He really seemed -to assume full charge of the party, and in the drawing -room he was flirting outrageously with pretty Lois -Hubbard, and kept her giggling when I’d asked her -<i>specially</i> to be nice to the Fourth Assistant Secretary,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> -who’s a bachelor, you know. And if Mrs. Hubbard -<i>knew</i> we had introduced Lois to a boy from the racetrack——”</p> - -<p>“It would be awful,” said Webster with one of the -elusive grins that always baffled her.</p> - -<p>“What would be awful?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing! I was thinking of Wrong Number -and what a blow it would be if I should lose him. -I must remember to raise his salary in the morning.”</p> - - -<p class="center">THE END.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> -</div></div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST LAID SCHEMES ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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