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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:32 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:32 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13178-0.txt b/13178-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c459a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/13178-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8699 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13178 *** + +BROKEN TO THE PLOW + +A Novel by + +CHARLES CALDWELL DOBIE + +_Author of_ "THE BLOOD RED DAWN" + + + +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + +NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + * * * * * + +Printed in the United States of America + +TO MY BROTHER +Who Helped Make My Literary Career Possible. + + + + +BROKEN TO THE PLOW + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Fred Starratt remembered that he +had been commissioned by his wife to bring home oyster cocktails for +dinner. Of course, it went without saying that he was expected to +attend to the cigars. That meant he must touch old Wetherbee for +money. Five dollars would do the trick, but, while he was about it, he +decided that he might as well ask for twenty-five. There were bound to +be other demands before the first of the month, and the hard-fisted +cashier of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. seemed to grow more and more crusty +over drafts against the salary account. If one caught him in a good +humor it was all right. Usually a _risqué_ story was the safest road +to geniality. Starratt raked his brains for a new one, to no purpose. +Every moment of delay added greater certainty to the conviction that +he was in for a disagreeable encounter. At four o'clock Wetherbee +always began to balance his cash for the day and he was particularly +vicious at any interruptions during this precise performance. What in +the world had possessed Helen to give this absurd dinner party to two +people Starratt had never met? At least she might have put the thing +off until pay day, when money was more plentiful. + +How did others manage? Starratt asked himself. Because there was a +small minority in the office who received their full month's salary +without a break during the entire year. Take young Brauer, for +instance. He got a little over a hundred a month and yet he never +seemed short. He dressed well, too--or neatly, to be nearer the truth; +there was no great style to his make-up. Of course, Brauer was not +married, but Starratt could never remember a time, even before he took +the plunge into matrimony, when he was not going through the motions +of smoothing old Wetherbee into a good-humored acceptance of an IOU +tag. Starratt did not think himself extravagant, and it always had +puzzled him to observe how free some of his salaried friends were with +their coin. Only that morning his wife had reflected his own mood with +exaggerated petulancy when she had said: + +"I'm sure I don't know where all the money goes! We don't spend it on +cafés, and we haven't a car, and goodness knows I only buy what I have +to when it comes down to clothes." + +What she _had_ to! He thought over the phrase not with any desire to +put Helen in the pillory, but merely to uncover, if possible, the +source of their economic ills. + +In days gone by, when his mother was alive, he had heard almost the +same remark leveled at his father: + +"Well, I suppose _some_ people could save on our income. But we've got +to be decent--we can't go about in rags!" + +He knew from long experience just the sort his mother had meant by the +term "some people." Brauer was a case in point. Mrs. Starratt always +spoke of such as he with lofty tolerance. + +"Oh, of course, _foreigners_ always get on! They're accustomed to live +that way!" + +Fred Starratt had not altogether accepted his mother's philosophy that +everybody lacking the grace of an Anglo-Saxon or Scotch name was a +foreigner. There were times when he was given to wonder vaguely why +the gift of "getting on" had been given to "foreigners" and denied +him. Once in a while he rebelled against the implied gentility which +had been wished on him. Were rags necessary to achieve economy? +Granting the premises, in moments of rare revolt he became hospitable +to any contingency that would free him from the ever-present +humiliation of an empty purse. + +He soon had learned that the term "rags" was a mere figure of speech, +which stood for every pretense offered up as a sacrifice upon the +altar of appearances. His mother had never been a spendthrift and +certainly one could not convict Helen on such a charge. But they both +had one thing in common--they "had to have things" for almost any and +every occasion. If a trip were planned or a dancing party arranged or +a tea projected--well, one simply couldn't go looking like a fright, +and that was all there was to it. His father never thought to argue +such a question. Women folks had to have clothes, and so he accepted +the situation with the philosophy born of bowing gracefully to the +inevitable. But Starratt himself occasionally voiced a protest. + +"Nothing to wear?" he would echo, incredulously. "Why, how about that +pink dress? That hasn't worn out yet." + +"No, that's just it! It simply won't! I'm sick and tired of putting it +on. Everybody knows it down to the last hook and eye... Oh, well, I'll +stay home. It isn't a matter of life and death. I've given things up +before." + +When a woman took that tone of martyrdom there really was nothing to +do but acknowledge defeat. Other men were able to provide frocks for +their wives and he supposed he ought to be willing to do the same +thing. There was an element of stung pride in his surrender. He had +the ingrained Californian's distaste for admitting, even to himself, +that there was anything he could not afford. And in the end it was +this feeling rising above the surface of his irritation which made him +a bit ashamed of his attitude toward Helen's dinner party. After all, +it would be the same a thousand years from now. A man couldn't have +his cake and eat it, and a man like Brauer must live a dull sort of +life. What could be the use of saving money if one forgot how to spend +it in the drab process? As a matter of fact, old Wetherbee wouldn't +gobble him. He'd grunt or grumble or even rave a bit, but in the end +he would yield up the money. He always did. And suddenly, while his +courage had been so adroitly screwed to the sticking point, he went +over to old Wetherbee's desk without further ado. + +The cashier was absorbed in adding several columns of figures and he +let Starratt wait. This was not a reassuring sign. Finally, when he +condescended to acknowledge the younger man's presence he did it with +the merest uplift of the eyebrows. Starratt decided at once against +pleasantries. Instead, he matched Wetherbee's quizzical pantomime by +throwing the carefully written IOU tag down on the desk. + +Wetherbee tossed the tag aside. "You got twenty-five dollars a couple +of days ago!" he bawled out suddenly. + +Starratt was surprised into silence. Old Wetherbee was sometimes given +to half-audible and impersonal grumblings, but this was the first time +he had ever gone so far as to voice a specific objection to an appeal +for funds. + +"What do you think this is?" Wetherbee went on in a tone loud enough +to be heard by all the office force. "The Bank of England?... I've got +something else to do besides advance money every other day to a bunch +of joy-riding spendthrifts. In my day a young man ordered his +expenditures to suit his pocketbook. We got our salary once a month +and we saw to it that it lasted... What's the matter--somebody sick at +home?" + +Starratt could easily have lied and closed the incident quickly, but +an illogical pride stirred him to the truth. + +"No," he returned, quietly, "I'm simply short. We're having some +company in for dinner and there are a few things to get--cigars +and--well, you know what." + +Wetherbee threw him a lip-curling glance. "Cigars? Well, twopenny +clerks do keep up a pretty scratch and no mistake. In my day--" + +Starratt cut him short with an impatient gesture. + +"Times have changed, Mr. Wetherbee." + +"Yes, I should say they have," the elder man sneered, as he reached +for the key to the cash drawer. + +For a moment Starratt felt an enormous relief at the old man's +significant movement. He was to get the money, after all! But almost +at once he was moved to sudden resentment. What right had Wetherbee to +humiliate him before everybody within earshot? He knew that the eyes +of the entire force were being leveled at him, and he felt a surge of +satisfaction as he said, very distinctly: + +"Don't bother, Mr. Wetherbee... It really doesn't make the slightest +difference. I'll manage somehow." + +Old Wetherbee shrugged and went on adding figures. Starratt felt +confused. The whole scene had fallen flat. His suave heroics had not +even made Wetherbee feel cheap. He went back to his desk. + +Presently a hand rested upon his shoulder. He knew Brauer's fawning, +almost apologetic, touch. He turned. + +"If you're short--" Brauer was whispering. + +Starratt hesitated. Deep down he never had liked Brauer; in fact, he +always had just missed snubbing him. Still it was decent of Brauer +to... + +"That's very kind, I'm sure. Could you give me--say, five dollars?" + +Brauer thrust two lean, bloodless fingers into his vest pocket and +drew out a crisp note. + +"Thanks, awfully," Starratt said, quickly, as he reached for the +money. + +Brauer's face lit up with a swift glow of satisfaction. Starratt +almost shrank back. He felt a clammy hand pressing the bill against +his palm. + +"Thanks, awfully," he murmured again. + +Brauer dropped his eyes with a suggestion of unpleasant humility. + +"I wish," flashed through Starratt's mind, "that I had asked for ten +dollars." + + * * * * * + +As Fred Starratt came down the steps leading from the California +Market with a bottle of oyster cocktails held gingerly before him he +never remembered when he had been less in the mood for guests. A +passing friend invited him to drop down for a drink at Collins & +Wheeland's, but the state of his finances urged a speedy flight home +instead. At this hour the California Street cars were crowded, but he +managed to squeeze into a place on the running board. He always +enjoyed the glide of this old-fashioned cable car up the stone-paved +slope of Nob Hill, and even the discomfort of a huddled foothold was +more than discounted by the ability to catch backward glimpses of city +and bay falling away in the slanting gold of an early spring twilight +like some enchanted and fabulous capital. + +At Hyde Street he changed cars, continuing his homeward flight in the +direction of Russian Hill. He prided himself on the fact that he still +clung to one of the old quarters of the town, scorning the outlying +districts with all the disdain of a San Franciscan born and bred of +pioneer stock. He liked to be within easy walking distance of work, +and only a trifle over fifteen minutes from the shops and cafés and +theaters. And his present quarters in a comparatively new apartment +house just below the topmost height of Green Street answered these +wishes in every particular. + +On the Hyde Street car he found a seat, and, without the distraction +of maintaining his foothold or the diversion of an unfolding panorama, +his thoughts turned naturally on his immediate problems. The five +dollars had gone a ridiculously small way. Four oyster cocktails came +to a dollar and a quarter, and he had to have at least six cigars at +twenty-five cents apiece. This left him somewhat short of the maid's +wage of three dollars for cooking and serving dinner and washing up +the dishes. If Helen had engaged Mrs. Finn, everything would be all +right. She knew them and she would wait. Still, he didn't like putting +anybody off--he was neither quite too poor nor quite too affluent to +be nonchalant in his postponement of obligations. + +When he arrived home he found that Helen had been having her troubles, +too. Mrs. Finn had disappointed her and sent a frowsy female, who +exuded vile whisky and the unpleasant odors of a slattern. + +"I think she's half drunk," Helen had confessed, brutally. "You can't +depend on anyone these days. Servants are getting so independent!" + +The roast had been delivered late, too, and when Helen had called up +the shop to protest she had been met with cool insolence. + +"I told the boy who talked to me that I'd report him to the boss. And +what do you suppose he said? 'Go as far as you like! We're all going +out on a strike next week, so we should worry!' Fancy a butcher +talking like that to me! I don't know what things are coming to." + +Frankly, neither did Fred Starratt, but he held his peace. He was +thinking just where he would gather enough money together to pay Mrs. +Finn's questionable substitute. + +The guests arrived shortly and there were the usual stiff, bromidic +greetings. Mrs. Hilmer had been presented to Fred first ... a little, +spotless, homey Scandinavian type, who radiated competent housekeeping +and flawless cooking. The Starratts had once had just such a +shining-faced body for a neighbor--a woman who ran up the back stairs +during the dinner hour with a bit of roasted chicken or a pan of +featherweight pop-overs or a dish of crumbly cookies for the children. +Mrs. Starratt, senior, had acknowledged her neighbor's culinary merits +ungrudgingly, tempering her enthusiasm, however, with a swift dab of +criticism directed at the lady's personality. + +"My, but isn't she Dutch, though!" frequently had escaped her. + +Somehow the characterization had struck Fred Starratt as very apt even +in his younger days. And as he shook hands with Mrs. Hilmer these same +words came to mind. + +Hilmer disturbed him. He was a huge man with a rather well-chiseled +face, considering his thickness of limb, and his blond hair fell in an +untidy shower about his prominent and throbbing temples. Fred felt him +to be a man without any inherited social graces, yet he contrived to +appear at ease. Was it because he was disposed to let the women +chatter? No, that could not account for his acquired suavity, for +silence is very often much more awkward than even clumsy attempts at +speech. + +As the dinner progressed, Fred Starratt began to wonder just what had +tempted Helen to arrange this little dinner party for the Hilmers. +When she had broached the matter, her words had scarcely conveyed +their type. A woman who had helped his wife out at the Red Cross +Center during the influenza epidemic could be of almost any pattern. +But immediately he had gauged her as one of his wife's own kind. Helen +and her women friends were not incompetent housewives, but their +efforts leaned rather to an escape from domestic drudgery than to a +patient yielding to its yoke. If they discussed housekeeping at all, +it was with reference to some new labor-saving device flashing across +the culinary horizon. But Mrs. Hilmer's conversation thrilled with the +pride of her gastronomic achievements without any reference to the +labor involved. She invested her estate as housekeeper for her husband +with a commendable dignity. It appeared that she took an enormous +amount of pains with the simplest dishes. It was incredible, for +instance, how much thought and care and time went into a custard which +she described at great length for Helen's benefit. + +"But that takes hours and _hours_!" Helen protested. + +"But it's a real custard," Hilmer put in, dryly. + +Fred Starratt felt himself flushing. Hilmer's scant speech had the +double-edged quality of most short weapons. Could it be that his guest +was sneering by implication at the fare that Helen had provided? No, +that was hardly it, because Helen had provided good fare, even if she +had prepared most of it vicariously. Hilmer's covert disdain was more +impersonal, yet it remained every whit as irritating, for all that. +Perhaps a bit more so, since Fred Starratt found it hard to put a +finger on its precise quality. He had another taste of it later when +the inevitable strike gossip intruded itself. It was Helen who opened +up, repeating her verbal passage with the butcher. + +"They want eight hours a day and forty-five dollars a week," she +finished. "I call that ridiculous!" + +"Why?" asked Hilmer, abruptly. + +"For a butcher?" Helen countered, with pained incredulity. + +"How long does your husband work?" Hilmer went on, calmly. + +"I'm sure I don't know. How long do you work, Fred?" + +Starratt hesitated. "Let me see ... nine to twelve is three hours ... +one to five is four hours--seven in all." + +Hilmer smiled with cryptic irritation. "There you have it!... What's +wrong with a butcher wanting eight hours?" + +Helen shrugged. "Well, a butcher doesn't have to use his brains very +much!" she threw out, triumphantly. + +"And your husband does. I see!" + +Starratt winced. He felt his wife's eye turned expectantly upon him. +"Seven hours is a normal day's work," he put in, deciding to ignore +Hilmer's insolence, "but as an employer of an office force you must +know how much overtime the average clerk puts in. We're not afraid to +work a little bit more than we're paid for. We're thinking of +something else besides money." + +Hilmer buttered a roll. "What, for instance?" + +"Why, the firm's interest ... our own advancement, of course ... the +enlarged capacity that comes with greater skill and knowledge." He +leaned back in his seat with a self-satisfied smile. + +Hilmer laid down his butter knife very deliberately. "That's very well +put," he said; "very well put, indeed! And would you mind telling me +just what your duties are in the office where you work?" + +"I'm in the insurance business ... fire. We have a general agency here +for the Pacific coast. That means that all the subagents in the +smaller towns report the risks they have insured to us. I'm what they +call a map clerk. I enter the details of every risk on bound maps of +the larger towns which every insurance company is provided with. In +this way we know just how much we have at risk in any building, block, +or section of any city. And we are able to keep our liability within +proper limits." + +"You do this same thing ... for seven hours every day ... not to speak +of overtime?" + +"Yes." + +"And how long have you been doing this?" + +"About five years." + +"And how long will you continue to do it?" + +"God knows!" + +Hilmer rested both hands on the white cloth. They were shapely hands +in spite of their size, with healthy pink nails, except on a thumb and +forefinger, which had been badly mangled. "For five years you have +worked seven hours every day on this routine ... and in order to +enlarge your capacity and skill and knowledge you have worked many +hours overtime on this same routine, I suppose without any extra +pay... It seems to me that a man who only gets a chance to exercise +with dumb-bells might keep in condition, but he'd hardly grow more +skillful... Of course, that still leaves two theories intact--working +for your own advancement ... and the interest of your firm. I suppose +the advancement _has_ come, I suppose you've been paid for your +overtime ... in increased salary." + +Helen made a scornful movement. "If you call an increase of ten +dollars a month in two years an advancement," she ventured, bitterly. + +Starratt flushed. + +"That leaves only one excuse for overtime. And that excuse is usually +a lie. Why should you have the interest of your firm at heart when it +does nothing for you beyond what it is forced to do?" + +Fred Starratt bared his teeth in sudden snapping anger. "Well, and +what do _you_ do, Mr. Hilmer, for your clerks?" + +"Nothing ... absolutely nothing ... unless they demand it. And even +then it's only the exceptional man who can force me into a corner. The +average clerk in any country is like a gelded horse. He's been robbed +of his power by education ... of a sort. He's a reasonable, rational, +considerate beast that can be broken to any harness." + +"What do you want us to do? Go on a strike and heave bricks into your +plate-glass window?... What would you do in our place?" + +"I wouldn't be there, to begin with. I've heaved bricks in my day." He +leaned forward, exhibiting his smashed thumb and forefinger. "I killed +the man who did that to me. I was born in a Norwegian fishing village +and after a while I followed the sea. That's a good school for action. +And what education you get is thrashed into you. The little that +sticks doesn't do much more than toughen you. And if you don't want +any more it does well enough. Later on, if you have a thirst for +knowledge, you drink the brand you pick yourself and it doesn't go to +your head. Now with you ... you didn't have any choice. You drank up +what they handed out and, at the age when you could have made a +selection, your taste was formed ... by _others_... I don't mind +people kicking at the man who works with his hands if they know what +they're talking about. But most of them don't. They get the thing +second hand. They're chock full of loyalty to superiors and systems +and governments, just from habit... I've worked with my hands, and +I've fought for a half loaf of bread with a dirk knife, and I know all +the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact. So when I disagree +with the demands of the men who build my vessels I know why I'm +disagreeing. And I usually do disagree ... because if they've got guts +enough in them they'll fight. And I like a good fight. That's why +potting clerks is such a tame business. It's almost as sickening as a +rabbit drive." + +He finished with a gesture of contempt and reached for his goblet of +water. + +Starratt decided not to dodge the issue; if Hilmer wished to throw any +further mud he was perfectly ready to stand up and be the target. + +"Well, and what's the remedy for stiffening the backbone of my sort?" +he asked, with polite insolence. + +"Stiffening the backbone of the middle class is next to impossible. +They've been bowing and scraping until there's a permanent kink in +their backs!" + +"The 'middle class'?" Helen echoed, incredulously. + +Hilmer was smiling widely. There was a strange, embarrassed silence. +Starratt was the first to recover himself. "Why, of course!... Why +not? You didn't think we belonged to any other class, did you?" + +It was Mrs. Hilmer who changed the subject. "What nice corn pudding +this is, Mrs. Starratt! Would you mind telling me how you made it?" + +Hostilities ceased with the black coffee, and in the tiny living room +Hilmer grew almost genial. His life had been varied and he was rather +proud of it--that is, he was proud of the more sordid details, which +he recounted with an air of satisfaction. He liked to dwell on his +poverty, his lack of opportunity, his scant education. He had the +pride of his achievements, and he was always eager to throw them into +sharper relief by dwelling upon the depths from which he had sprung. +He had his vulgarities, of course, but it was amazing how well +selected they were--the vulgarities of simplicity rather than of +coarseness. And while he talked he moved his hands unusually for a man +of northern blood, revealing the sinister thumb and forefinger, which +to Fred Starratt grew to be a symbol of his guest's rough-hewn power. +Hilmer was full of raw-boned stories of the sea and he had the +seafarer's trick of vivid speech. Even Helen Starratt was absorbed ... +a thing unusual for her. At least in her husband's hearing she always +disclaimed any interest in the brutalities. She never read about +murders or the sweaty stories in the human-interest columns of the +paper or the unpleasant fictioning of realists. Her excuse was the +threadbare one that a trivial environment always calls forth, "There +are enough unpleasant things in life without reading about them!" + +The unpleasant things in Helen Starratt's life didn't go very far +beyond half-tipsy maids and impertinent butcher boys. + +Hilmer's experiences were not quite in the line of drawing-room +anecdotes, and Starratt had seen the time when his wife would have +recoiled from them with the disdainful grace of a feline shaking +unwelcome moisture from its paws. But to-night she drew her dark +eyebrows together tensely and let her thin, vivid lips part with frank +eagerness. Her interest flamed her with a new quality. Fred Starratt +had always known that his wife was attractive; he would not have +married her otherwise; but, as she leaned forward upon the arm of her +chair, resting her elbows upon an orange satin pillow, he saw that she +was handsome. And, somehow, the realization vaguely disturbed him. + +Hilmer's stories of prosperity were not so moving. From a penniless +emigrant in New York until he had achieved the distinction of being +one of the leading shipbuilders of the Pacific coast, his narrative +steadily dwindled in power, the stream of his life choked with +stagnant scum of good fortune. Indeed, he grew so dull that Helen +Starratt, stifling a yawn, said: + +"If it's not too personal ... won't you please tell us ... about ... +about the man you killed for smashing your thumb?" + +He laughed with charming naivete, and began at once. But it was all +disappointingly simple. It had happened aboard ship. A hulking Finn, +one of the crew's bullies, had accused Hilmer of stealing his tobacco. +A scuffle followed, blows, blood drawn. Upon the slippery deck Hilmer +had fallen prone in an attempt to place a swinging blow. The Finn had +seized this opportunity and flung a bit of pig iron upon Hilmer's +sprawling right hand. Hilmer had leaped to his feet at once and, +seizing the bar of iron in his dripping fingers, had crushed the +bully's head with one sure, swift blow. + +"He fell face downward ... his head split open like a rotten melon." + +Helen Starratt shuddered. "How ... how perfectly fascinating!" escaped +her. + +Starratt stared. He had never seen his wife so kindled with morbid +excitement. + +"I ... I thought you didn't like to hear unpleasant stories," he threw +at her, disagreeably. + +She tossed the flaming cushion, upon which she had been leaning, into +a corner, a certain insolence in her quick gesture. + +"I don't like to _read_ about them," she retorted, and she turned a +wanton smile in the direction of Hilmer. + +At this juncture the maid opened the folding doors between the dining +room and the living room. She had on her hat and coat, and, as she +retreated to the kitchen, Helen Starratt flashed a significant look at +her husband. + +He followed the woman reluctantly. When he entered the kitchen she was +leaning against the sink, smoothing on a pair of faded silk gloves. + +"I'm sorry," he began, awkwardly, "but I forgot to cash a check +to-day. How much do you charge?" + +The woman's hands flew instinctively to her hips as she braced herself +into an attitude of defiance. + +"Three dollars!" she snapped. "And my car fare." + +He searched his pockets and held out a palm filled with silver for her +inspection. "I've just got two forty," he announced, apologetically. +"You see, we usually have Mrs. Finn. She knows us and I felt sure +she'd wait until next time. If you give me your address I can send you +the difference to-morrow." + +She tossed back her head. "Nothing doing!" she retorted. "I don't give +a damn what you thought. I want my money now or, by Gawd, I'll start +something!" + +Her voice had risen sharply. Starratt was sure that everybody could +hear. + +"I haven't got three dollars," he insisted, in a low voice. "Can't you +see that I haven't?" + +"Ask your wife, then." + +"She hasn't a cent... I should have cashed a check to-day, but I +forgot... You forget things sometimes, don't you?" + +He was conscious that his voice had drawn out in a snuffling appeal, +but he simply had to placate this female ogress in some way. + +"Ask your swell friends, then." + +"Why, I can't do that... I don't know them well enough. This is the +first time--" + +She cut him short with a snap of her ringers. "You don't know me, +either ... and I don't know you. That's the gist of the whole thing. +If you can ask a strange woman who's done an honest night's work to +wait for her money, you can ask a strange man to lend you sixty +cents... And, what's more, I'll wait right here until you do!" + +"Well, wait then!" he flung out, suddenly, as he pocketed the silver. + +He kicked open the swinging door and gained the dining room. She +followed close upon his heels. + +"Oh, I know your kind!" he heard her spitting out at him. "You're a +cheap skate trying to put up a front! But you won't get by with me, +not if I know it!... You come through with three dollars or I'll wreck +this joint!" + +A crash followed her harangue. Starratt turned. A tray of Haviland +cups and saucers lay in a shattered heap upon the floor. + +He raised a threatening finger at her. "Will you be good enough to +leave this house!" he commanded. + +She thrust a red-knuckled fist into his face. "Not much I won't!" she +defied him, swinging her head back and forth. + +He fell back sharply. What was he to do? He couldn't kick her out... +He heard a chair scraped back noisily upon the hardwood floor of the +living room. Presently Hilmer stood at his side. + +"Let me handle her!" Hilmer said, quietly. + +Starratt gave a gesture of assent. + +His guest took one stride toward the obstreperous female. "Get out! +Understand?" + +She stopped the defiant seesawing of her head. + +"Wot in hell..." she was beginning, but her voice suddenly broke into +tearful blubbering. "I'm a poor, lone widder woman--" + +He took her arm and gave her a significant shove. + +"Get out!" he repeated, with brief emphasis. + +She cast a look at him, half despair and half admiration. He pointed +to the door. She went. + +Hilmer laughed and regained the living room. Starratt hesitated. + +"I guess I'd better pick up the mess," he said, with an attempt at +nonchalance. + +Nobody made any reply. He bent over the litter. Above the faint tinkle +of shattered porcelain dropping upon the lacquered tray he heard his +wife's voice cloying the air with unpleasant sweetness as she said: + +"Oh yes, Mr. Hilmer, you were telling us about the time you fought a +man with a dirk knife ... for a half loaf of bread." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When the Hilmers left, about half past eleven, Starratt went down to +the curb with them, on the pretext of looking at Hilmer's new car. It +proved to be a very late and very luxurious model. + +"Is it insured?" asked Starratt, as he lifted Mrs. Hilmer in. + +"What a hungry bunch you insurance men are!" Hilmer returned. "You're +the fiftieth man that's asked me that." + +Starratt flushed. The business end of his suggestion had been the last +thing in his mind. He managed to voice a commonplace protest, and +Hilmer, taking his place at the wheel, said: + +"Come in and talk it over sometime... Perhaps _you_ can persuade me." + +Starratt smiled pallidly and the car shot forward. He watched it out +of sight. Instead of going back into the house he walked aimlessly +down the block. He had no objective beyond a desire to kill the time +and give Helen a chance to retire before he returned. He wasn't in a +mood for talking. + +It was not an unusual thing for him to take a stroll before turning +in, and habit led him along a beaten path. He always found it +fascinating to dip down the Hyde Street hill toward Lombard Street, +where he could glimpse both the bay and the opposite shore. Then, he +liked to pass the old-fashioned gardens spilling the mingled scent of +heliotrope and crimson sage into the lap of night. There was something +fascinating and melancholy about this venerable quarter that had been +spared the ravages of fire ... overlooked, as it were, by the +relentless flames, either in pity or contempt. There had been +marvelous tales concerning this section's escape from the holocaust of +1906, when San Francisco had been shaken by earthquake and shriveled +by flames. One house had been saved by a crimson flood of wine +siphoned from its fragrant cellar, another by pluck and a garden hose, +a third by quickly hewn branches of eucalyptus and cypress piled +against the outside walls as a screen to the blistering heat. Trees +and hedges and climbing honeysuckle had contributed, no doubt, to the +defense of these relics of a more genial day, but the dogged +determination of their owners to save their old homes at any cost must +have been the determining factor, Starratt had often thought, as he +lingered before the old picket fences, in an attempt to revive his +memories of other days. He could not remember, of course, quite back +to the time when the Hyde Street hill had been in an opulent heyday, +but the flavor of its quality had trickled through to his generation. +This was the section where his mother had languished in the prim gloom +of her lamp-shaded parlor before his father's discreet advances. The +house was gone ... replaced by a bay-windowed, jig-sawed horror of the +'80s, but the garden still smiled, its quaint fragrance reënforced at +the proper season by the belated blossoms of a homesick and +wind-bitten magnolia. He was sure, judged by present-day standards, +that his mother's old home must have been a very modest, genial sort +of place ... without doubt a clapboard, two-storied affair with a +single wide gable and a porch running the full length of the front. +But, in a day when young and pretty women were at a premium, one did +not have to live in a mansion to attract desirable suitors, and Fred +Starratt had often heard his mother remind his father without +bitterness of the catches that had been thrown her way. Not that +Starratt, senior, had been a bad prospect matrimonially. Quite the +contrary. He had come from Boston in the early '70s, of good +substantial family, and with fair looks and a capacity for getting on. +Likewise, a chance for inside tips on the stock market, since he had +elected to go in with a brokerage firm. And so they were married, with +all of conservative San Francisco at the First Unitarian Church to see +the wedding, leavened by a sprinkling of the very rich and a dash of +the ultrafashionable. Unfortunately, the inside tips didn't pan out +... absurd and dazzling fortune was succeeded by appalling and +irretrievable failure. Starratt, senior, was too young a man to +succumb to the scurvy trick of fate, but he never quite recovered. +Gradually the Starratt family fell back a pace. To the last there were +certain of the old guard who still remembered them with bits of +coveted pasteboard for receptions or marriages or anniversary +celebrations ... but the Starratts became more and more a memory +revived by sentiment and less and less a vital reality. + +Fred Starratt used to speculate, during his nocturnal wandering among +the shadows of his parents' youthful haunts, just what his position +would have been had these stock-market tips proved gilt edged. He +tried to imagine himself the master of a splendid estate down the +peninsula--preferably at Hillsboro--possessed of high-power cars and a +string of polo ponies ... perhaps even a steam yacht... But these +dazzling visions were not always in the ascendant. There were times +when a philanthropic dream moved him more completely and he had naïve +and varied speculations concerning the help that he could have placed +in the way of the less fortunate had he been possessed of unlimited +means. Or, again, his hypothetical wealth put him in the way of the +education that placed him easily at the top of a stirring profession. + +"If I'd only had half a chance!" would escape him. + +This was a phrase borrowed unconsciously from his mother. She was +never bitter nor resentful at their profitless tilt with fortune +except as it had reacted on her son. + +"You should have gone to college," she used to insist, regretfully, +summing up by implication his lack of advancement. At first he took a +measure of comfort in her excuse; later he came to be irritated by it. +And in moments of truant self-candor he admitted he could have made +the grade with concessions to pride. There were plenty of youths who +worked their way through. But he always had moved close to the edge of +affluent circles, where he had caught the cold but disturbing glow of +their standards. He left high school with pallid ideals of gentility, +ideals that expressed themselves in his reasons for deciding to enter +an insurance office. Insurance, he argued, was a _nice_ business, one +met _nice_ people, one had _nice_ hours, one was placed in _nice_ +surroundings. He had discovered later that one drew a _nice_ salary, +too. Well, at least, he had had the virtue of choosing without a very +keen eye for the financial returns. + +Ten years of being married to a woman who demanded a _nice_ home and +_nice_ clothes and a circle of _nice_ friends had done a great deal +toward making him a little skeptical about the soundness of his +standards. But his moments of uncertainty were few and fleeting, +called into life by such uncomfortable circumstances as touching old +Wetherbee for money or putting his tailor off when the date for his +monthly dole fell due. He had never been introspective enough to quite +place himself in the social scale, but when, in his thought or +conversation, he referred to people of the _better class_ he +unconsciously included himself. He was not a drunken, disorderly, or +radical member of society, and he didn't black boots, or man a ship, +or sell people groceries, or do any of the things that were done in +overalls and a soft shirt, therefore it went without saying that he +belonged to the better class. That was synonymous with admitting that +one kept one's ringer nails clean and used a pocket handkerchief. + +Suddenly, with the force of a surprise slap in the face, it had been +borne in upon him that he was not any of the fine things he imagined. +He was sure that his insolent guest, Hilmer, had not meant to be +disagreeable at the moment when he had said: + +"Stiffening the backbone of the _middle class_ is next to impossible!" + +"The middle class"! The phrase had brought up even Helen Starratt with +a round turn. One might have called them both peasants with equal +temerity. No, Hilmer had not made _that_ point consciously, and +therein lay its sting. + +To-night, as he accomplished his accustomed pilgrimage to the tangible +shrine of his ancestors, and stood leaning against the gate which +opened upon the garden that had smiled upon his mother's wooing, he +determined once and for all to establish his position in life... _Did_ +he belong to the middle class, and, granting the premises, was it a +condition from which one could escape or a fixed heritage that could +neither be abandoned nor denied? In a country that made flamboyant +motions toward democracy, he knew that the term was used in contempt, +if not reproach. Had the class itself brought on this disesteem? Did +it really exist and what defined it? Was it a matter of scant worldly +possessions, or commonplace brain force, or breeding, or just an +attitude of mind? Was it a term invented by the crafty to dash cold +water upon the potential unity of a scattered force? Was it a +scarecrow for frightening greedy and resourceful flocks from a +concerted assault upon the golden harvests of privilege?... The +questions submerged him in a swift flood. He did not know ... he could +not tell. Unaccustomed as he was to thinking in the terms of group +consciousness, he fell back, naturally, upon the personal aspects of +the case. He was sure of one thing--Hilmer's contempt and scorn. In +what class did Hilmer place himself? Above or below?... But the answer +came almost before it was framed--Hilmer looked _down_ upon him. That +almost told the story, but not quite. Had Hilmer climbed personally to +upper circles or had the strata in which he found himself embedded +been pushed up by the slow process of time? Had the term "middle +class" become a misnomer? Was it really on the lowest level now? +Perhaps it was ... perhaps it always had been... But so was the +foundation of any structure. Foundation?... The thought intrigued him, +but only momentarily. Who wanted to bear the crushing weight of +arrogant and far-flung battlements? + +He retraced his steps, his thoughts still busy with Hilmer. Here was a +typical case of what America could yield to the nature that had the +insolence to ravish her. America was still the tawny, primitive, +elemental jade who gave herself more readily to a rough embrace than a +soft caress. She reserved her favors for those who wrested them from +her...she had no patience with the soft delights of persuasion. It was +strange how much rough-hewn vitality had poured into her embrace from +the moth-eaten civilization of the Old World. Starratt was only a +generation removed from a people who had subdued a wilderness ... he +was not many generations removed from a people who wrestled naked with +God for a whole continent--that is, they had begun to wrestle; the +years that had succeeded found them still eager and shut-lipped for +the conflict. They had abandoned the struggle only when they had found +their victory complete. Naturally, soft days had followed. Was eternal +conflict the price of strength? Starratt found himself wondering. And +was he a product of these soft days, the rushing whirlwinds of Heaven +stilled, the land drowsy with the humid heat of a slothful noonday? He +had never thought of these things before. Even when he had thrilled to +the vision of line upon line of his comrades marching away to the +blood-soaked fields of France he had surrendered to a primitive +emotion untouched by the poetry of deep understanding. He thrilled not +because he knew that these people were doing the magnificent, the +decent thing ... but because he merely felt it. He had his faiths, but +he had not troubled to prove them ... he had not troubled even to +_doubt_ them. + +His disquiet sharpened all of his perceptions. He never remembered a +time when the cool fragrance of the night had fallen upon his senses +with such a personal caress. He had come out into its starlit presence +flushed with narrow, sordid indignation ... smarting under the trivial +lashes which insolence and circumstance had rained upon his vanity. +His walk in the dusky silence had not stilled his restlessness, but it +had given his impatience a larger scope ... and as he stood for one +last backward glimpse at the twinkling magnificence of this February +night he felt stirred by almost heroic rancors. The city lay before +him in crouched somnolence, ready to leap into life at the first flush +of dawn, and, in the chilly breath of virgin spring, little truant +warmths and provocative perfumes stirred the night with subtle +prophecies of summer. + +His exaltation persisted even after he had turned the key in his own +door to find the light still blazing, betraying the fact of Helen's +wakeful presence. He dallied over the triviality of hanging up his +hat. + +She was reading when he gained the threshold of the tiny living room. +At the sound of his footsteps she flung aside the magazine in her +hand. Her thick brows were drawn together in insolent impatience. + +"Oh," he exclaimed, inadequately, "I thought you'd be asleep!" + +"Asleep?" she queried, in a voice that cut him with its swift stroke. +"You didn't fancy that I could compose myself that quickly ... after +everything that's happened to-night ... did you? I've been humiliated +more than once in my life, but never quite so badly. Uncalled for, too +... that's the silly part of it." + +He stood motionless in the doorway. "I'm sorry I forgot the money," he +returned, dully. "But it's all past and gone now. And I think the +Hilmers understood." + +"Yes ... they understood. That's another humiliating thing." She +laughed tonelessly. "It must be amusing to watch people like us +attempting to be somebody and do something on an income that can't be +stretched far enough to pay a sloppy maid her wages." + +It was not so much what she said, but her manner that chilled him to +sudden cold anger. "Well ... you know our income, down to the last +penny... You know just how much I've overdrawn this month, too. Why do +you invite strangers to dinner under such conditions?" + +She rose, drawing herself up to an arrogant height. "I invite them for +_your_ sake," she said, with slow emphasis. "If you played your cards +well you might get in right with Hilmer. He's a big man." + +"Yes," he flung back, dryly, "and a damned insolent one, too." + +"He has his faults," she defended. "He's not polished, but he's +forceful." She turned a malevolent smile upon her husband. "When he +told that drunken servant girl to go, she went!" + +Starratt could feel the rush of blood dyeing his temples. "That's just +in his line!" he sneered. "He's taken degrading orders, and so he +knows how to give them... He may have money now, but he hasn't always +been so fortunate. I've been short of funds in my day, but I never +fought with a dirk for a half loaf of bread... You've heard the story +of his life... What has he got to make him proud?" + +"Just that ... he's pulled himself out of it. While we... Tell me, +where are we? Where will we be ten years from now?... Twenty? Why +aren't you doing something?... Everybody else is." + +He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Perhaps I am," he +said, quietly. "You don't know everything." + +She made a movement toward him. He stepped aside to let her pass. + +"What can _you_ do?" she taunted as she swept out of the room. + +He stood for a moment dazed at the sudden and unexpected budding of +her scorn. He heard her slam the door of the bedroom. He went over to +the chair from which she had risen and dropped into it, shading his +eyes. + +The clock in the hallway was chiming two when the bedroom door opened +again. + +"Aren't you coming to bed?" he heard his wife's voice call with sharp +irritation. + +"No," he answered. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was extraordinary how wide awake Fred Starratt felt next morning. +He was full of tingling reactions to the sharp chill of +disillusionment. At the breakfast table he met his wife's advances +with an air of tolerant aloofness. In the past, the first moves toward +adjusting a misunderstanding had come usually from him. He had an +aptitude for kindling the fires of domestic harmony, but he had +discovered overnight the futility of fanning a hearthstone blaze when +the flue was choked so completely. Before him lay the task of first +correcting the draught. Temporary genialities had no place in his +sudden, bleak speculations. Helen shirred his eggs to a turn, pressed +the second cup of coffee on him, browned him a fresh slice of toast +... he suffered her favors, but he was unmoved by them. They did not +even annoy him. When he kissed her good-by he felt the relaxation of +her body against his, as she stood for a moment languishing in +provocative surrender. He put her aside sharply. Her caress had a new +quality which irritated him. + +Outside, the morning spread its blue-gold tail in wanton splendor. +February in San Francisco! Fred Starratt drew in a deep breath and +wondered where else in the whole world one could have bettered that +morning at any season of the year. Like most San Franciscans, he had +never flown very far afield, but he was passionate in his belief that +his native city "had it on any of them," to use his precise term. And +he was resentful to a degree at any who dared in his presence to +establish other claims or to even suggest another preference. He +looked forward to New York as an experience, but never as a goal. No, +San Francisco was good enough for him! + +He felt the same conviction this morning, but a vague gypsying stirred +his blood also, and a wayfaring urge swept him. The sky was +indescribably blue, washed clean by a moist January that had drenched +the hills to lush-green life. The bay lay in a sapphire drowse, +flecked by idle-winged argosies, unfolding their storm-soaked sails to +the caressing sunlight. Soaring high above the placid gulls, an +airplane circled and dipped like a huge dragon fly in nuptial flight. +Through the Golden Gate, shrouded in the delicate mists evoked by the +cool night, an ocean liner glided with arrogant assurance. + +From the last vantage point, before he slipped townward to his +monotonous duties, Starratt stood, shading his eyes, watching the +stately exit of this maritime giant. This was a morning for starting +adventure...for setting out upon a quest!... He had been stirred +before to such Homeric longings ... spring sunshine could always prick +his blood with sharp-pointed desire. But to-day there was a poignant +melancholy in his flair for a wider horizon. He was touched by +weariness as well as longing. He was like a pocket hunter whose +previous borrowings had beguiled him with flashing grains that proved +valueless. He would not abandon his search, but he must pack up and +move on to new, uncertain, unproved ground. And he felt all the weight +of hidden and heartbreaking perils with which his spiritual faring +forth must of necessity be hedged. + +At the corner of California and Montgomery streets he met the tide of +nine-o'clock commuters surging toward the insurance offices and banks. +His widened vision suddenly contracted. Middle class! The phrase +leaped forward from the flock mind which this standardized concourse +diffused. In many of the faces he read the potentialities of infinite +variety, smothered by a dull mask of conformity. What a relief if but +one in that vast flood would go suddenly mad! He tried fantastically +to picture the effect upon the others--the momentary cowardice and +braveries that such an event would call into life. For a few brief +moments certain personalities and acts would stand out sharply +glorified, like grains of dust dancing in the slanting rays of the +sun. Then, the angle of yellow light restored to white normality, the +whirling particles would drift back into their colorless oblivion. + +For a moment he had a taste of desire for unspringing power. If he +could but be the wind to shake these dry reeds of custom into a +semblance of life!... One by one they passed him with an air of +growing preoccupation ... each step was carrying them nearer to the +day's pallid slavery, and an unconscious sense of their genteel +serfdom seemed gradually to settle on them. There were no bent nor +broken nor careworn toilers among this drab mass...the stamp of long +service here was a withered, soul-quenched gentility that came of +accepting life instead of struggling against it. + +Gradually the temper of the crowd communicated itself to him. It was +time to descend from his speculative heights and face the problems of +his workday world. He turned sharply toward his office. Young Brauer +was just mounting the steps. + +"Well, what's new?" Brauer threw out, genially. + +"Not a thing in the world!" escaped Starratt. + +They went into the office together. + +Old Wetherbee was carrying his cash book out of the safe. The old man +smiled. He was usually in good humor early in the morning. + +"Well, what's new?" he inquired, gayly. + +"Not a thing in the world!" they chimed, almost in chorus. + +At the rear of the office they slipped on their office coats. Brauer +took a comb from his pocket and began carefully to define the part in +his already slick hair. Starratt went forward. + +In the center of the room the chief stenographer stood, putting her +formidable array of pencils through the sharpener. She glanced up at +Starratt with a complacent smile. + +"Oh, good morning, Mr. Starratt!" she purred, archly. "What's new with +you?" + +"Not a thing in the world," he answered, ironically, and he began to +arrange some memoranda in one of the wire baskets on his desk... At +nine thirty the boy brought him his share of the mail from the back +office, and in ten minutes he was deeply absorbed in sorting the +"daily reports" from the various agencies. He worked steadily, +interrupted by an occasional phone call, an order from the chief +clerk, the arrival and departure of business associates and clients. +Above the hum of subdued office conversation the click of typewriting +machines and the incessant buzzing of the desk telephones, he was +conscious of hearing the same question repeated with monotonous +fidelity: + +"Hello! What's new with you?" + +And as surely, either through his own lips or the lips of another, the +identical reply always came: + +"Not a thing in the world!" + +At half past eleven he stopped deliberately and stood for a moment, +nervously fingering his tie. He was thinking about the course of +action that he had decided upon in that long, unusual vigil of the +night before. His uncertainty lasted until the remembrance of his +wife's scornful question swept over him: + +"Why aren't you doing something?... Everybody else is!" + +But it was the answer he had made that committed him irrevocably to +his future course: + +"Perhaps I am. You don't know everything." + +He had felt a sense of fatality bound up in these words of defiant +pretense, once they had escaped him...a fatality which the blazing +contempt of his wife's retort had emphasized. Even now his cheeks +burned with the memory of that unleashed insult: + +"What can _you_ do?" + +No, there was no turning back now. His own self-esteem could not deny +so clear-cut a challenge. + +He called his assistant. "I wish you'd go into the private office and +see if Mr. Ford is at leisure," he ordered. "I want to have a talk +with him." + +The youth came back promptly. "He says for you to come," was his brief +announcement. + +Fred Starratt stared a moment and, recovering himself, walked swiftly +in upon his employer. Mr. Ford was signing insurance policies. + +"Well, Starratt," he said, looking up smilingly, "what's the good +word?... What's new with you?" + +Starratt squared himself desperately. "Nothing...except I find it +impossible to live upon my salary." + +Mr. Ford laid aside his pen. "Oh, that's unfortunate!... Suppose you +sit down and we'll talk it over." + +Starratt dropped into the nearest seat. + +Mr. Ford let his eyeglasses dangle from their cord. He was not in the +least disturbed. Indeed, he seemed to be approaching the issue with +unqualified pleasure. + +"Now, Starratt, let's get at the root of the trouble... Of course +you're a reasonable man otherwise..." + +Starratt smiled ironically. A vivid remembrance of Hilmer's words +flashed over him. His lip-curling disdain must have communicated +itself to Mr. Ford, because that gentleman hesitated, cleared his +throat, and began all over again. + +"You're a reasonable man, Starratt, and I know that you have the +interest of the firm at heart." + +Starratt leaned back in his seat and listened, but he might have +spared himself the pains. Somehow he anticipated every word, every +argument, before Mr. Ford had a chance to voice them. Business +conditions were uncertain, overhead charges extraordinarily increased, +the loss ratio large and bidding fair to cut their bonus down to +nothing. Therefore ... well, of course, next year things might be +different. The firm was hoping that by next year they would be in a +position to deal handsomely with those of their force who had been +patient... Mr. Ford did not stop there, he did not expect Starratt to +take his word for anything. He reached for a pencil and pad and he +went into a mathematic demonstration to show just how near the edge of +financial disaster the firm of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. had been pushed. +Starratt could not doubt the figures, and yet his eyes traveled +instinctively to the bag of golf sticks in a convenient corner. +Somehow, nothing in either Ford's argument or his sleek presence +irritated Starratt so much as these golf sticks. For, in this +particular instance, they became the symbol of a self-sufficient +prosperity whose first moves toward economy were directed at those who +serve... If all this were so, why didn't Ford begin by cutting down +his own allowance, by trimming his own expenses to the bone? Golf, as +Mr. Ford played it, was an expensive luxury. No doubt the exercise was +beneficial, but puttering about a garden would have done equally. +Starratt might have let all this pass. He was by heart and nature and +training a conservative and he had sympathy for the genial vanities of +life. It was Ford's final summary, the unconscious patronage, the +quiet, assured insolence of his words, which gave Starratt his +irrevocable cue. + +"We rather look to men like you, Starratt," Mr. Ford was saying, his +voice suave to the point of insincerity, "to tide us over a crisis. +Just now, when the laboring element is running amuck, it's good to +feel that the country has a large percentage of people who can be +reasonable and understand another viewpoint except their own... After +everything is said and done, in business a man's first loyalty is to +the firm he works for." + +"Why?" Starratt threw out sharply. + +Ford's pallid eyes widened briefly. "I think the answer is obvious, +Starratt. Don't you? The hand that feeds a man is..." + +"_Feeds?_ That may work both ways." + +"I don't quite understand." + +Starratt's glance traveled toward the golf sticks. "Well, it seems to +me it's a case of one man cutting down on necessities to provide +another with luxuries." He hated himself once he had said it. It +outraged his own sense of breeding. + +Mr. Ford shoved the pencil and pad to one side. "A parlor radical, +eh?... Well, this from _you_ is surprising!... If there was one man in +my employ whom I counted on, it was you. You've been with me over +fifteen years ... began as office boy, as I remember. And in all that +time you've never even asked for a privilege... I'm sorry to see such +a fine record broken!" + +Yesterday Starratt would have agreed with him, but now he felt moved +to indignation and shame at Ford's summary of his negative virtues. He +had been born with a voice and he had never lifted it to ask for his +rights, much less a favor. No wonder Hilmer could sneer and Helen +Starratt cut him with the fine knife of her scorn! The words began to +tumble to his lips. They came in swirling flood. He lost count of what +he was saying, but the angry white face of his employer foreshadowed +the inevitable end of this interview. He gave his rancor its full +scope ... protests, defiance, insults, even, heaping up in a +formidable pile. + +"You ask me to be patient," he flared, "because you think I'm a +reasonable, rational, considerate beast that can be broken to any +harness!" He recognized Hilmer's words, but he swept on. "If you were +in a real flesh-and-blood business you'd have felt the force of things +... you'd have had men with guts to deal with ... you'd have had a +brick or two heaved into your plate-glass window. A friend of mine +said last night that potting clerks was as sickening as a rabbit +drive. He was right, it is sickening!" + +Mr. Ford raised his hand. Starratt obeyed with silence. + +"I'm sorry, Starratt, to see _you_ bitten with this radical disease... +Of course, you can't stay on here, after this. Your confidence in us +seems to have been destroyed and it goes without saying that my +confidence in you has been seriously undermined. We'll give you a good +recommendation and a month's salary... But you had better leave at +once. A man in your frame of mind isn't a good investment for Ford, +Wetherbee & Co." + +Starratt was still quivering with unleashed heroics. "The +recommendation is coming to me," he returned, coldly. "The month's +salary isn't. I'll take what I've earned and not a penny more." + +"Very well; suit yourself there." + +Mr. Ford reached for his pen and began where he had left off at +Starratt's entrance ... signing insurance policies... Starratt rose +and left without a word. The interview was over. + +Already, in that mysterious way with which secrets flash through an +office with lightninglike rapidity, a hint of Starratt's brush with +Ford was illuminating the dull routine. + +"I think he's going into business for himself, or something," Starratt +heard the chief stenographer say in a stage whisper to her assistant, +as he passed. + +And at his desk he found Brauer waiting to waylay him with a bid for +lunch, his little ferret eyes attempting to confirm the general gossip +flying about. + +Starratt had an impulse to refuse, but instead he said, as evenly as +he could: + +"All right ... sure! Let's go now!" + +Brauer felt like eating oysters, so they decided to go up to one of +the stalls in the California Market for lunch. He was in an expansive +mood. + +"Let's have beer, too," he insisted, as they seated themselves. "After +the first of July they'll slap on war-time prohibition and it won't be +so easy." + +Starratt acquiesced. He usually didn't drink anything stronger than +tea with the noonday meal, because anything even mildly alcoholic made +him loggy and unfit for work, but the thought that to-day he was free +intrigued him. + +The waiter brought the usual plate of shrimps that it was customary to +serve with an oyster order, and Starratt and Brauer fell to. A glass +of beer foamed with enticing amber coolness before each plate. Brauer +reached over and lifted his glass. + +"Well, here's success to crime!" he said, with pointed facetiousness. + +Starratt ignored the lead. He had never liked Brauer and he did not +find this sharp-nosed inquisitiveness to his taste. He began to wonder +why he had come with him. Lunching with Brauer had never been a habit. +Occasionally, quite by accident, they managed to achieve the same +restaurant and the same table, but it was not a matter of +prearrangement. Indeed, Starratt had always prided himself at his +ability to keep Brauer at arm's length. A subtle change had occurred. +Was it possible that a borrowed five-dollar bill could so reshape a +relationship? Well, he would pay him back once he received his monthly +salary, and get over with the obligation. His monthly salary?... +Suddenly it broke over him that he had received the last full month's +salary that he would ever get from Ford, Wetherbee & Co. It was the +20th of February, which meant, roughly, that about two thirds of his +one hundred and fifty dollars would be coming to him if he still held +to his haughty resolve to take no more than he had earned. Two thirds +of one hundred and fifty, less sixty-odd dollars overdrawn... He was +recalled from his occupation by Brauer's voice rising above the +clatter of carelessly flung crockery and tableware. + +"Is it true you're leaving the first of the month?" + +He liked Brauer better for this direct question, although the man's +presumption still rankled. + +"I'm leaving to-day," he announced, dryly, not without a feeling of +pride. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"I haven't decided... Perhaps...I don't know ... I _may_ become an +insurance broker." + +Brauer picked through the mess in his plate for an unshelled shrimp. +"That takes money," he ventured, dubiously. + +"Oh, not a great deal," Starratt returned, ruffling a trifle. "Office +rent for two or three months before the premiums begin to come in ... +a little capital to furnish up a room. I might even get some one to +give me a desk in his office until I got started. It's done, you +know." + +Brauer neatly extracted a succulent morsel from its scaly sheath. +"Don't you think it's better to put up a front?" he inquired. "If +you've got a decent office and your own phone and a good stenographer +it makes an impression when you're going after business... Why don't +you go in with somebody?... There ought to be plenty of fellows ready +to put up their money against your time." + +"Who, for instance?" escaped Starratt, involuntarily. + +Brauer shoved his plate of husked shrimps to one side. "Take me. I've +saved up quite a bit, and..." + +The waiter broke in upon them with the oysters. + +Starratt knitted his brows. "Well, why not?" was his mental +calculation. + +Brauer ordered two more pints of beer. + +Starratt had leaned at first toward keeping his business venture a +secret from Helen. But in the end a boyish eagerness to sun himself in +the warmth of her surprise unlocked his reserve. + +"I've quit Ford-Wetherbee," he said, quietly, that night, as she was +seating herself after bringing on the dessert. + +He had never seen such a startled look flash across her face. + +"What! Did you have trouble?" + +He decided swiftly not to give her the details. He didn't want her to +think that any outside influence had pushed him into action. + +"Oh no!..." he drawled, lightly. "I've been thinking of leaving for +some time. Working for another person doesn't get you anywhere." + +He could see that she was puzzled, perhaps a little annoyed. Last +night in a malicious moment she had been quite ready to sneer at her +husband's inactivity, but now, with the situation a matter of practice +rather than theory, Starratt felt that she was having her misgivings. +A suggestion of a frown hovered above her black eyebrows. + +"You can't mean that you're going into business!" she returned, as she +passed him a dish of steaming pudding. + +There was a suggestion of last night's scorn in her incredulity. + +"No?... And why not?" + +She cast a sidelong glance at him. "That takes money," she objected. + +He knew now, from her tone, what was behind the veil of her +intimations and he found a curious new pleasure in watching her +squirm. + +"Oh, well," he half mused, "I guess we'll struggle through somehow. +We've always managed to." + +She leaned one elbow heavily on the table. "_More_ economies, I +suppose!" + +He had trapped her too easily! It was his turn to be cutting. "Don't +worry!... I sha'n't ask you to do without any more than you've done +without so far. If you can stand it as it is awhile longer, why ..." +He broke off with a shrug. + +Her eyes swam in a sudden mist. "You're not fair!" she sniffed. "I'm +thinking as much of you as I am of myself. Going into business isn't +only a question of money. There are anxieties and worry ... and ... +and ..." She recovered herself swiftly and looked at him with clear, +though reproachful, eyes. "I'm always willing to help ... you know +that!" + +He melted at once. There was a moment of silence, and then he told her +everything ... about Brauer, and what they purposed. + +"He's to keep on at Ford-Wetherbee's until things are running +smoothly. Of course, I'd rather not have it that way, but he holds the +purse strings, so I've got to make concessions. We can get an office +for twenty-five a month. It will be the salary of the stenographer +that will count up." + +"When do you start?" + +"To-morrow. And do you know who I'm going after first thing?... +Hilmer. He told me last night to come around and talk over insuring +that car of his... I don't know that I'll land that. But I might line +him up for something else. He must have a lot of insurance to place +one way or another." + +She smiled dubiously. "Well, I wouldn't count too much upon Hilmer," +she said, with a superior air. + +"I'm not counting on anything or anybody," he returned, easily. +"Hilmer isn't the only fish in the sea." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was noon before Helen Starratt finished her housework next +morning--an unusually late hour for her, but she had been preoccupied, +and her movements slow in consequence. A four-room apartment, with +hardwood floors and a vacuum cleaner, was hardly a serious task for a +full-grown woman, childless, and with a vigor that reacted perfectly +to an ice-cold shower at 7 A.M. She used to look back occasionally at +the contrast her mother's life had presented. Even with a servant, a +three-storied, bay-windowed house had not given Mrs. Somers much +leisure for women's clubs. The Ladies Aid Society and a Christmas +festival in the church parlors were about as far along the road of +alleged social service as the woman of the last generation had +traveled. There was marketing to do, and sewing continually on hand, +and house-cleaning at stated intervals. In Helen Somers's old home the +daily routine had been as inflexible as its ancestor's original +Calvinistic creed--Monday, washing; Tuesday, ironing; Wednesday, +cleaning the silver; Thursday, at home to visitors; Friday, sweeping; +Saturday, baking; and Sunday, the hardest day of all. For, withal, the +Puritan sense of observance, that had not been utterly swamped by the +blue and enticing skies of California, Sunday was a feast day, not in +a lightsome sense, but in a dull, heavy, gastronomic way, unleavened +by either wine or passable wit. On Sunday the men of the family +returned home from church and gorged. If the day were fine, perhaps +everybody save mother took a cable-car ride, or a walk, or something +equally exciting. The sparkle of environment had won these people away +from tombstone reading and family prayers as a Sabbath diversion, but +even California could not be expected to make over a bluestocking in +an eye's twinkling. Mother, of course, stayed home on Sunday to "pick +up" and get ready for supper in the absence of the servant girl. A +later generation had the grace to elevate these slatternly drudges to +the title of maid, but a sterner ancestry found it expedient to be +more practical and less pretentious in its terms. On these drab +Sundays Helen Somers had passionately envied the children of foreign +breed, who seemed less hedged about by sabbatical restrictions. Not +that she wished her family to _be_ of the questionable sort that went +to El Campo or Shell Mound Park for Sunday picnics and returned in +quarrelsome state at a late hour smelling of bad whisky and worse gin. +Nor did she aspire to have sprung from the Teutonic stock that +perpetrated more respectable but equally noisy outings in the vicinity +of Woodward's Gardens. But she had a furtive and sly desire to float +oil-like upon the surface of this turbid sea, touching it at certain +points, yet scarcely mixing with it. Indeed, this inclination to taste +the core of life without committing herself the further indiscretion +of swallowing it grew to such proportions that at the age of fifteen +she almost succumbed to its allurement. Even at this late date she +could recall every detail of a seemingly casual conversation which she +had held with the stalwart butcher boy who came daily to the kitchen +door to deliver meat. The first day she merely had broached the +subject of Sunday picnics; the second she had intrigued him into +giving her one or two fleeting details; the third day she held him +captive a full ten minutes while he enlarged upon his subject. And so +on, until one morning he said, quite directly: + +"Would you like to go to one?... If you do, I'll take you." + +She had drawn back at first from this frontal attack, but in the end +she decided to chance the experience. She pretended to her mother that +she was going to see a girl friend who was sick. She met her crude +cavalier at the ferry. She even boarded the boat with him. At first he +had been a bit constrained and shy, but soon she felt the warm, moist +pressure of his thick-fingered hands against hers. And presently his +arm encircled her waist. With curious intuition she realized the +futility of struggling against him... She had to admit, in the end, +that she found his physical nearness pleasurable... She often had +wondered, looking back on that day, what might have happened if she +had gone through with this truant indiscretion. But halfway on the +journey her escort had deserted her momentarily to buy a cigar. Left +alone upon the upper deck of a ferryboat, crowded with a strident and +raucous company, she had felt herself suddenly grow cold, not with +fear, but with a certain haughty and disdainful anger. These people +were not her kind! She had risen swiftly from her seat and hidden +discreetly in the ladies' washroom until after the boat had landed and +was on its way back to the city. When she got home she found the house +in confusion. Her father had been taken suddenly ill. + +"I came very near sending to Nellie's for you," her mother had said. + +The incident had taught her a lesson, but there were times when she +regretted its termination--when she was stirred to a certain morbid +and profitless speculation as to what might have been. + +Shortly after this a reaction began to set in against the dullness +which certain people found desirable in the observation of what they +were pleased to call with questionable humility the Lord's Day, and by +the time Helen had budded to womanhood this new tide was at its flood. +People, even piously inclined, were taking houses across the bay, at +Belvedere or Sausalito or Mill Valley, for the summer. Somehow, one +didn't go to church during this holiday. Friends came over for +Saturday and Sunday to visit, and the term "week-end" became +intelligible and acquired significance. The Somerses took a cottage +for three successive seasons in Belvedere--that is, they spoke of it +as a cottage. In reality, it was the abandoned hulk of a ferryboat +that had been converted into rather uncomfortable quarters and set up +on the slimy beach. The effect of this unconventional habitation +slowly undermined the pale ghost of the Somers' family tradition. They +became bohemian. Instead of the lugubrious Sunday feast of thick +joints and heavy puddings, they began to make the acquaintance of the +can opener. And from can opener to corkscrew it was only a brief +step... It was at this point that Helen met Fred Starratt. Quite +naturally the inevitable happened. Moonlight rowing in the cove at +Belvedere, set to the tune of mandolins, was always providing a job +for the parson, and, if the truth were told, for the divorce courts as +well. It all had been pleasant enough, and normal enough, and the +expected thing. That's what young people always did if the proper +setting were provided, especially when the moon kept on the job. + +Helen Starratt had read about the thrills that the heroines of novels +received from the mating fever, but she had to confess that she had +not experienced anything as exciting as a thrill during the entire +period of her husband's wooing. She had felt satisfaction, a mild +triumph, a gratified vanity, if you will, but that was as far as her +emotional experience had gone. After all, her career had been +marriage, and she had taken the most likely situation that had been +offered. She presumed it was the same when one graduated from business +college. You were expected to land a job and you did. Sometimes it was +a good one, and then again it wasn't. Looking back, she conceded that +her choice had been fair. Fred Starratt didn't drink to excess, he +didn't beat or swear at her, he didn't make sarcastic remarks about +her relations, or do any of the things which anyone who reads the +daily papers discovers so many men do under provocation or otherwise. +But, on the other hand, he hadn't made a fortune or bought a car or +given her any reason for feeling compensated for the lack of marital +excitement. His friends called him a nice fellow--in some ways as +damning a thing as one could say about anybody--and let it go at that. +However, Helen Starratt's vocabulary was just as limited when it came +to characterizing her conventional aims and ambitions. If, +occasionally, her speculations stirred the muddy reaches of certain +furtive desires, she took care that they did not become articulate. +This term "nice" included every desirable virtue. One married nice +men, and one lived in a nice neighborhood, and one made nice +acquaintances. In her mother's day she had heard people say: + +"I believe in having the young folks identified with church work--they +meet such nice people." + +And years later a friend, attempting to interest her in the activities +of a local orphan asylum, had clinched every other argument by +stating, blandly: + +"You really ought to go in for it, Helen--you've no idea what nice +people you meet." + +When America's entry into the war brought up the question of Red Cross +endeavor, her first thought had been: + +"I really ought to do something, I suppose. And, besides, I'll meet +lots of nice people." + +Well, she had met a lot of nice people, but the only fruitful yield +socially had been Mrs. Hilmer. And somehow it never occurred to Helen +to apply such a discriminating term as nice to her latest acquisition. +Mrs. Hilmer was wholesome and good hearted and a dear, and no doubt +she was nice in a negative way, but one never thought about saying so. +And Hilmer...? No, he was not what one would call a nice man, but he +was tremendously interesting and in the hands of the right woman... +You see, Mrs. Hilmer was a good soul, but, of course, she didn't quite +... that is, she was a bit old fashioned and ... well, she didn't know +how, poor dear! + +Thus it was that over her household tasks on this particular February +morning Helen Starratt dawdled as her mind played with the fiction of +what Hilmer might become under the proper influence. Now, if _she_ had +married him!... + +It was all very well for Mrs. Hilmer to see that her lord and master +was fed properly, but why did she waste hours over a custard when she +had money enough to hire it done? That course didn't get either of +them anywhere--Hilmer remained at a level of torpid content, and +naturally he looked down on his wife as a sort of sublimated servant +girl who wasn't always preparing to leave and demanding higher +wages... No, most men fell too easily in the trap of their personal +comforts. Even Fred had become self-satisfied. Beyond his dinner and +paper and an occasional sober flight at the movies or bridge with old +friends he didn't seem to have any stirring ambitions. That was where +a wife came in. Hadn't she been casting around for bait that would +make Fred rise to something new? Hadn't she invited the Hilmers to +dinner in the hope that the two men would hit it off? The very first +time she had met Hilmer she had thought, "There's a man that Fred +ought to know." + +She was perfectly willing to concede certain virtues to her husband, +and she flattered herself that with the materials at her command she +had managed to keep Fred pretty well up to the scratch. The only thing +that had been lacking was plenty of money. If she had had one quarter +of Hilmer's income she would have evolved a husband that any woman +could have been proud of, instead of one that most women would have +found merely satisfactory... This was the way she had argued before +her absurd dinner party. She had to admit, after it was all over, that +her husband had managed to make her thoroughly ashamed of him. It was +better to have an outrageous husband than a ridiculous one. And she +fancied that Hilmer could be outrageous if he chose... But she was +sure of one thing ... if Hilmer came home and announced that he had +given up his position and had decided to plunge in boldly for himself, +his wife would scarcely give the matter a second thought. Hilmer would +carry the thing through ... _some way_. A man who could brain an +assailant and fight for a mouthful of bread would put things over by +hook or crook. There wasn't much chance for failure there. But Fred +Starratt ... well, he was apt to have some ridiculous scruple or too +keen a sense of business courtesy or a sensitiveness to rebuffs. Take +his passage at arms with the drunken maid ... if he had thrown her out +promptly, or come in and frankly borrowed the money from Hilmer, it +would have at least shown decision. + +Of course she couldn't do anything, now that he was committed to this +new business venture. It was all very well for him to snarl: "Don't +worry... I sha'n't ask you to do without any more than you've done +without so far." + +That was the lofty way most men theorized when their vanity was +wounded. But she knew enough to realize that if he failed she would +have to share that failure. Of course, if Fred could interest +Hilmer... Perhaps she could help things along in some way ... with a +chance remark to Mrs. Hilmer. Would it be better to cast the seed more +directly?... If she could only manage to run across Hilmer--she +wouldn't want to seem to be putting in her oar... Would it be very +dreadful if she were to think up some excuse and go beard the lion in +his den? + +She was still interested in her orphan asylum. Why not go ask him for +a subscription? She wondered if he would be very brusque; insulting, +even. The possibilities fascinated her. She felt that she would like a +passage at arms with him. He was a man worth worsting. Under such +circumstances Fred Starratt would be either liberal beyond his means +or profusely apologetic. Not by any chance would he give a prompt and +emphatic refusal... The more she thought about it the more enticing +the prospect became. She felt sure that if Hilmer didn't approve of +her charity he would say so frankly, perhaps disagreeably. And if he +didn't think much of her husband's venture he would be equally direct. +She rather wanted to know what he _did_ think about Fred Starratt. She +ended by coming to an emphatic decision. She would not only go, but +she would go that very afternoon. If there were any chance for her to +prepare an easy road for Fred's advance it lay in speedy action. + +When she finished dressing for the encounter and stood surveying +herself in the long mirror set into the closet door of her bedroom she +had to admit that she had missed none of her points. Most women at her +age would have been sagging a bit, the cords of youth slackened by the +weight of maternity or the continual pull against ill health and +genteel poverty. Or they would have been smothered in the plump +content of Mrs. Hilmer. Helen Starratt's slenderness had still a +virginal quality and she knew every artifice that heightened this +effect. To-day she was a trifle startled at quite the lengths she had +gone to strike a note of sophisticated youth. She had long since +ceased dressing consciously for her husband, and dressing for other +women was more a matter of perfect detail than attempted beguilement. +She was curious, she told herself, to see whether a man like Hilmer +would be impressed by feminine artifice... Did a black silk gown, with +spotless lace at wrist and throat, spell the acme of Hilmer's ideal of +womanhood? Was woman to him something durable and utilitarian or did +his fancy sometimes carry him to more decorative ideals? + +She did not go directly to his office; instead, she dawdled a bit over +the shop windows. Things were appallingly high, she noted with growing +dismay, especially the evening gowns. On the shrugging, simpering +French wax figures they were at once very scant and very vivid ... +strung with beads and shot through with gold thread or spangled with +flashing sequins. She tried to imagine Mrs. Hilmer in one of these +gaudy confections. Almost any of them would have looked well on Helen +herself. But any woman who went in for dressing at all would need a +trunkload, she concluded, if one were to decently last out a season. +She found herself speculating on just what class of people would +invest in these hectic flesh coverings. Certainly not the enormously +rich ... they didn't buy their provocative draperies from show +windows. And even the comfortably off might pause, she thought, before +throwing a couple of hundred dollars into a wisp of veiling that +didn't reach much below the knees and would look like a weather-beaten +cobweb after the second wearing. With all this talk about profiteering +and economy and the high cost of living, even Helen Starratt had to +admit that one could go without an evening gown at two hundred +dollars. But, judging from the shoppers on the street, there didn't +seem to be many who intended to do without them. She began to wonder +what her chances were for at least a spring tailor-made. She supposed +now, with Fred going into business, she would be expected to make her +old one do. Well, she decided she wouldn't make it do if she had to +beg on the street corner. She'd had it a year and a half, and during +war times that was quite all right. The best people had played +frumpish parts then. But now everybody was perking up. As for an +evening gown ... well, she simply couldn't conceive where even a +hundred dollars would be available for one of these spangled harem +veils that was passing muster as a full-grown dress... If she had +possessed untold wealth, all this flimsiness, this stylistic froth, +would have appealed to her; as it was, she was irritated by it. What +were things coming to? she demanded. Just when you thought you were up +to the minute, the styles changed overnight. It was the same with +household furniture. Ten years ago, when she and Fred had set up +housekeeping, everybody had exclaimed over her quaint bits of +mahogany, her neutral window drapes, even at her wonderful porcelain +gas range. Now, everything, from bed to dining-room table, was painted +in dull colors pricked by gorgeous designs; the hangings at the +windows screamed with color; electric stoves were coming in. The day +of polished surfaces and shining brass was over--antiques were no +longer the rage. + +Her dissatisfaction finally drove her toward Hilmer's office. She +stopped at one of the flower stands on Grant Avenue and bought a half +dozen daffodils. She begrudged the price she had to give for them, but +they did set off the dull raisin shade of her dress with a proper +flare of color. She concluded she would play up the yellow note in her +costuming oftener. Somehow it kindled her. She wondered for the first +time in her life what gypsy strain had flooded her with such dark +beauty. She stopped before a millinery shop and peered critically at +her reflection in a window mirror. Yes, the yellow note was a good +one, but she was still a trifle cold. If her lips had been a little +fuller... Strange she had never thought about that before. Well, next +time she would touch them ever so deftly into a suggestion of ripe +opulence. She sauntered slowly down Post Street, turned into +Montgomery. There were scarcely any women on the street and the men +who passed were, for the most part, in preoccupied flight. Yet she saw +more than one pair of eyes widen with brief appraisal as she went by. +Hilmer's offices were in the Merchants' Exchange Building. Helen +decided to slip in through the Montgomery Street entrance. She felt +that there might be a chance of running into Fred on California Street +and she didn't want to do that. + +As she shot up toward the eleventh story in the elevator she rehearsed +her opening scene with Hilmer. She decided to take her cue flippantly. +She would banter him at first and gradually veer to more serious +topics... But once she stood in his rather austere inner shrine of +business, she decided against subterfuges. He had stepped into the +main office, the boy who showed her in explained. Would she have a +seat? She dropped into a chair, taking in her background with feminine +swiftness. A barometer, a map, two stiffly painted pictures exhibiting +as many sailing vessels in full flight, a calendar bearing the +advertisement of a ship-chandlery firm--this was the extent of the +wall decoration. The office furniture was golden oak, the rugs of +indifferent neutrality. On his desk he had a picture of Mrs. Hilmer, +taken in a bygone day, very plump and blond and youthful in a soft, +tranquil way. And by its side, in a little ridiculously-blue glass +vase, some spring wild flowers languished, pallidly white and withered +by the heat of captivity. She checked an impulse to rise when he came +in. For a moment his virility had overwhelmed her into a feeling of +deference, but she recovered herself sufficiently to droop +nonchalantly into her seat as he gave her his hand. He was not in the +least put out of countenance by her unexpected presence, and she felt +a fleeting sense of disappointment, almost of pique. + +"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," she began, tritely. + +He swung his swivel chair toward her and sat down. "Yes, naturally," +he returned, with disconcerting candor. + +She touched the petals of her daffodils with a pensive finger. "Well, +really, you know, I'd quite made up my mind to pretend at first... +Women never like to come directly to the point. I thought up a silly +excuse--begging for an orphan asylum, to be exact. But I can see that +wouldn't go here... And I don't believe you're the least bit +interested in orphans." + +"Why should I be?" he asked, bluntly. + +She had a dozen arguments that might have won the ordinary man, but +she knew it would take more than stock phrases to convince him, so she +ignored the challenge. "You see, my husband has decided to go into +business ... and ... well, I thought perhaps if you had any insurance +... a stray bit, don't you know, that isn't pledged or spoken for ... +it would all be _so_ encouraging!" + +He smoothed his cheek with an appraising gesture. Against the blond +freshness of his skin his mangled thumb stood out vividly. + +"Why doesn't your husband come to see me himself?" + +She drew back a trifle, but her recovery was swift. "Oh, he intends +to, naturally. I'm just preparing the way... Fred's a perfect dear and +all that, but he is a little bit reserved about some things... It +would be so much easier for him to ask a favor for some one else... Of +course, he'd be perfectly furious if he knew that I had come here. But +you understand, Mr. Hilmer, I want to do all I can... I'd make _any_ +sacrifice for Fred." + +She paused to give him a chance to put in a word, but he sat silent. +It was plain that he didn't intend to help out her growing +embarrassment. + +"It's all come out of a clear sky," she went on, trailing the fringe +of her beaded hand bag across her shoe tops. "He only told me last +night... There isn't any use pretending ... he hasn't any capital to +work on. And until the premiums begin to come in there'll be office +rent and a stenographer's salary piling up ... and our living expenses +in the bargain... A friend of his is putting up some money, but I +can't imagine it's a whole lot... I'm a little bit upset about it, of +course. I wish I could really do something to help him." + +She knew from his look that he intended to hurl another disconcerting +question at her. + +"Well, if you want to help him, why don't you?" he quizzed. + +"Why, I ... why, I'm not fit for anything, really," she tried to throw +back. + +"My wife said you were pretty efficient at the Red Cross." + +"Oh, but that was different!" + +"Why?" + +"Well, I can't just explain, but it's easy to do something you ... +you..." + +"Feel you don't have to," he finished for her, ironically. + +She shrugged petulantly. "What do you want me to do? Solicit +insurance?" + +He smiled. "That's what you're doing now, isn't it?" + +"Mr. _Hilmer_!" She rose majestically in her seat. + +He continued to sit, but she was conscious that his eyes were sweeping +her from head to foot with frank appraisal. + +"A pretty woman has a good chance to get by with almost anything she +sets her mind on," he said, finally. + +She drew in a barely perceptible breath. The blunt tip of his shoe was +jammed squarely against her toe. She withdrew her foot, but she sat +down again. + +"I really ought to be angry with you, Mr. Hilmer," she purred at him, +archly. "It's very nice of you to attempt to be so gallant, but, after +all, talk _is_ pretty cheap, isn't it?... So far I don't seem to be +making good as a solicitor. So what else is there left?" + +"How about being your husband's stenographer?" he asked, without a +trace of banter. + +She forgot to be amazed. "I don't know anything about shorthand," she +replied, simply. + +"Well, you could soon learn to run a typewriter," he insisted. "I have +a young woman in my office who takes my letters direct on the machine +as I dictate them. She's as good as, if not better than, my chief +stenographer. That would save your husband at least seventy-five +dollars a month." + +She had an impulse to rise and sweep haughtily out of the room. What +right had this man to tell her what she could or could not do? The +impudence of him! But she didn't want to appear absurd. She leaned +back and looked at him through her half-closed eyelids as she said, +with a slight drawl: + +"Would my presence in the office be a bid for your support, Mr. +Hilmer?" + +"It might," he said, looking at her keenly. + +She did not flinch, but his steady gaze cut her composure like a +knife. She got to her feet again. + +"What silly little flowers!" escaped her, as she took a step near his +desk and pulled a faded blossom from the blue vase. + +He left his seat and stood beside her. "I got them down by St. Francis +Wood last Sunday," he admitted. "They reminded me of the early spring +blossoms in the old country ... the sort that shoot up almost at the +melting snow bank's edge... The flowers here are very gorgeous, but +somehow they never seem as sweet." + +She looked at him curiously, almost with the expectation of finding +that he was jesting. This flowering of sentiment was unexpected. It +had come, as he had described his native spring blooms, almost at the +snow bank's edge. She reached out, gathered up the faded blossoms +ruthlessly, and dropped them into a convenient waste basket. + +"Do you mind?" she asked, lifting her eyes heavily. + +He did not answer. + +Slowly she unpinned the flaming daffodils from her side and slipped +them into the empty vase. She stepped back to survey their sunlit +brilliance, resting a gloved hand upon the chair she had deserted. She +was conscious that another hand was bearing down heavily upon her +slender ringers. The weight crushed and pained her, yet she felt no +desire to withdraw... + +The office boy came in. She moved forward quickly. + +"There's a gentleman named Starratt waiting to see you," he announced. + +She threw back her head defensively. + +"This way!" Hilmer said, as he opened a private exit for her. + +She found herself in the marble-flanked hallway and presently she +gained the sun-flooded street. The blood was pounding at her temples +and its throb hurt. + +She walked home rapidly, swept by half-formulated impulses that +stirred her to almost adolescent self-revelations, yet when she +reached her apartment she was quite calm, almost too calm, and +outwardly cold. + +That night over the black coffee Fred Starratt said to his wife, with +an air of restrained triumph: + +"Well, I landed the insurance on Hilmer's car to-day." + +She flashed him, an enigmatical smile. "Oh, lovely!"... + +He sipped his coffee with preening satisfaction. + +"Everything is going beautifully," he continued. "I hired an office +and began to connect up with two or three firms. That preliminary from +Hilmer was a great boost... A man named Kendrick handles all his +business, so I've sort of got the street guessing. They can't figure +how I could even get a look in... Of course I'm convinced that +Kendrick shares his commissions with Hilmer, which is against the +rules of the Broker's Exchange. But he didn't ask for any shakedown... +Brauer and I ordered some office furniture, and to-morrow I'll +advertise for a girl." + +"I've got one for you already," she said, deliberately. + +"Who?" + +She reached across the shallow length of the table and touched his arm +significantly. + +"I've decided to do it myself," she purred. + +He patted her hand as an incredulous stare escaped him. "You!" he +laughed. + +She suffered his indulgent and mildly contemptuous caress. "Don't +laugh, sonny," she drawled, almost disagreeably. "Your wife may prove +a lot more clever than she seems." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After the first two weeks Fred Starratt's business venture went +forward amazingly. His application for membership in the Insurance +Broker's Exchange was rushed through by influential friends and he +became, through this action, a full-fledged fire insurance broker. He +did not need this formality, however, to qualify him as a solicitor in +other insurance lines. There was a long list of free lances, where the +only seal of approval was an ability to get the business. Automobile +liability, personal accident, marine, life--underwriters representing +such insurances shared commissions with any and all who had a +reasonable claim to prospective success. Therefore, while he was +waiting for his final confirmation from fire-insurance circles he took +a flyer at these more liberal forms. There seemed no end to this +miscellaneous business which, he came to the conclusion, could be had +almost for the asking. And all the time he had fancied that the field +was overworked! He mentioned this one day to a seasoned veteran in the +brokerage world. + +"Writing up policies is one thing," this friend had assured him, +emphatically; "collecting the premiums is another matter... If your +fire-insurance premiums aren't paid up inside of two months, the +policies are canceled. But they let the others drag on until the cows +come home. There's nothing so intangible in this world as insurance. +And people hate to pay for intangibilities." + +Starratt refused to be forewarned. The people he went after were +personal friends or gilt-edged business men. _They_ wouldn't deny +their obligations when the premiums fell due. + +But the greatest rallying point for his business enthusiasm proved to +be Hilmer. It seemed that scarcely a day went by that Hilmer did not +drop a new piece of business Fred's way. Returning to the office at +four o'clock on almost any afternoon, he grew to feel almost sure that +he would find Hilmer there, bending over Helen's shoulder as he +pointed out some vital point in the contract they were both examining. +He was a trifle uneasy at first--dreading the day when Hilmer would +approach him on the matter of sharing commissions. It was a generally +assumed fact that Kendrick, the man who handled practically all of +Hilmer's business, was a notorious rebater--that he divided +commissions with his clients in the face of his sworn agreement with +the Broker's Exchange not to indulge in such a practice. Obviously, +then, Hilmer would not be a man to throw away chances to turn such an +easy trick. + +Starratt voiced these fears to Brauer. + +"Sure he expects a rake-off," Starratt's silent partner had said. +"Everybody gets it ... if they've got business enough to make it worth +while." + +"Well, he won't get it from me," Fred returned, decisively. "I've +signed my name to an agreement and that agreement will stick if I +starve doing it!" + +Brauer, disconcerted by his friend's vehemence, merely had shrugged, +but at another time he said, craftily: + +"If Hilmer wants to break even on the fire business he gives us, why +can't we make it up some other way?... There's nothing against giving +him _all_ the commissions on that automobile liability policy we +placed the other day. We can do what we please with _that_ profit." + +Starratt flushed. "Can't you see, Brauer, that the principle is the +same?" + +"Principle! Oh, shoot!... We're out to make money, not to reform +business methods." + +Starratt made no further reply, but Brauer's attitude rankled. He +began to wish that he hadn't allowed Brauer to go in on his venture. +'But it had taken money ... more than he had imagined. They had to put +a good deposit down on the office furniture, and the rent was, of +course, payable in advance. Then came the fee for joining the Broker's +Exchange, and he had to borrow money for his personal expenses in the +face of his diminished salary check from Ford, Wetherbee & Co. He +realized, too, that the difficulties would scarcely decrease, even in +the face of brisk business. The office furnishings would one day have +to be met in full, the typewriting machine paid for, the stationery +and printing bills settled. During all this time he and Helen would +have to live and keep up a decent, not to say prosperous, appearance. +Yes, even with Helen saving the price of a stenographer, the problem +would not be easy. A day would come finally when he would feel +compelled to provide Helen with a fair salary. A man couldn't expect +even his own wife to go on pounding a typewriting machine for nothing. +What he really hoped was that when things began to run smoothly Helen +would retire... He had heard her in the old days voice her scorn of +the married woman who went out to earn a salary. + +"I wouldn't marry a man who couldn't support me!" she used to blaze. + +As a matter of fact, he had felt the same way about it--he felt that +way still. It hurt him to think that Helen should be wearing the badge +of his inefficiency. And then, deep down, he had a masculine distaste +for sharing his workday world with a woman. He liked to preserve the +mystery of those hours spent in the fight for existence, because he +knew instinctively that battle grounds lost their glamour at close +range. His Californian inheritance had fostered the mining-camp +attitude toward females--they were one of two things: men's moral +equals or men's moral superiors. It was well enough to meet an equal +on common ground, but one felt in duty bound to enshrine a superior +being in reasonable seclusion. + +At first he had been doubtful of Helen's ability to adapt herself to +such a radical change. Her performance soon set his mind at rest on +that score, but he still could not recover quite from the surprise of +her unexpected decision. Indifference, amazement, opposition--nothing +seemed able to sway her from her purpose. In the end he had been too +touched by her attitude to put his foot down firmly against the +move... She got on well with Hilmer, too, he noticed. Usually at the +end of one of these late afternoon conferences with their chief patron +Fred and Hilmer ended up by shaking for an early evening cocktail at +Collins & Wheeland's, just around the corner. Hilmer always saw to it +that Fred returned to the office with something for Helen--a handful +of ginger-snaps from the free-lunch counter, a ham sandwich, or a +paper of ripe olives. Once he stopped in a candy shop on Leidesdorff +Street and bought two ice-cream cornucopias. Fred used to shake a +puzzled head as he deposited these gastronomic trifles upon Helen's +desk as he said: + +"I don't get this man Hilmer... One minute he insults you and the next +minute he's as considerate as a canteen worker... What's he throwing +business my way for?" + +Helen, munching a gingersnap, would go on with her laborious +typewriting, and return: + +"Why look a gift horse in the mouth, Freddie?... Women aren't the only +riddles in the world." + +"I think he comes to see you," he used to throw out in obvious jest. +"That's the only way I can figure it." + +"He's like every man ... he wants an audience... I guess Mother Hilmer +is tired of hearing him rave." + +And so the banter would go on until Fred would pull up with a round +turn, realizing quite suddenly that he was talking to his wife and not +just to his stenographer. + +"He'll be at me one of these days on that commission question, you +mark my words," he would venture. + +"And what are you going to do?" + +"Why, refuse, of course, and lose the business." + +"Well, don't cross the bridge till you come to it." + +She puzzled him more and more. She seemed disturbed at nothing, and +yet she glowed with a leashed restlessness that he could not define. + +"It's the strain," he would conclude. "She's putting more into this +venture of mine than she's willing to admit... After all, women are +amazing... They pull and cling at you and drag you back ... and then, +all of a sudden, they take the bit in their teeth and you can't hold +them in... Who would have thought that Helen..." + +And here he would halt, overcome with the soft wonder of it. + +Business began to pour in from Brauer and, frankly, Fred was +disturbed. He wasn't sure of Brauer's business scruples. + +"I wonder if he's promising these people rebates," he said to Helen +one day, following an avalanche of new risks. + +"Well, you'll know soon enough when he begins to collect the +premiums," she replied, indifferently. + +"But I don't want to wait until then... They tell me this man Kendrick +is getting awfully sore at losing so much of Hilmer's business. He'd +like nothing better than to hop on to some irregularity in my methods +and get me fired from the Exchange... It takes a thief to catch one, +you know." + +"Oh, why worry?" Helen almost snapped at him. "If Brauer gets us into +a mess we can always throw him out." + +Starratt's eyes widened. Where did Helen get this ruthless philosophy? +Had it always lain dormant in her, or was this business life already +putting a ragged edge upon her finer perceptions? But he made no +answer. He had never admitted to Helen that Brauer had insisted upon +drawing up a hard-and-fast partnership agreement, and taking his note +for half of the money advanced in the bargain. It was one of the +business secrets which he decided he would not share with anybody--he +had a childish wish to preserve some mystery in connection with his +venture against the soft and dubious encroachments of his wife. + +"Anyway," Helen went on, "as soon as we get running smoothly we can +split. No doubt _he'll_ want to pull out when he sees that he can get +along without us... Just now he isn't taking any chances. He's holding +down his own job and letting us do all the work and the worrying... +Oh, he's German, all right, from the ground up." + +Fred had often shared this same hope, although he had never voiced it. +When the time came, no doubt Brauer would eliminate himself--for a +consideration--and set up his own office. But it amazed him to find +how swiftly and completely Helen had figured all these things out. Had +her mind always worked so coldly and logically under her rather +indifferent surface? He still wondered, too, at her efficiency. Was +this a product of her social service with the Red Cross during war +times?... Being a man, he couldn't concede that a proper domestic +training was a pretty good schooling in any direction. He didn't see +any relationship between a perfectly baked apple pie and a neatly kept +cash book. He had expected his wife to fall down on the mechanical +aspects of typewriting, but he forgot that she had been running a +sewing machine since she was fifteen years old. And even in his wife's +early childhood people were still using lamps for soft effects and +intensive reading. Any woman who knew the art of keeping a kerosene +lamp in shape must of necessity find the oiling and cleaning of a +typewriting machine mere child's play. He didn't realize the +affinities of training. It would never have occurred to him to fancy +that because he kept his office desk in perfect order he was qualified +to do the same thing with a kitchen stove, or that the method he had +acquired as office boy, copying letters in the letterpress, would have +stood him in good stead if he suddenly had been called upon to make up +his own bed. What he did realize was that the leveling process which +goes hand in hand with the mingling of sexes in a workday world was +setting in. And he resented it. He wanted to coddle illusion ... he +had no wish for a world practical to the point of bleakness. + +One afternoon Hilmer came in at the usual time with a handful of +memoranda. It was a violently rainy day--an early March day, to be +exact--the sort that refused to be softened even by the beguilements +of California. The rain wind, generally warm and humid, had been +chilled in its flight over the snow-piled Sierras, and it had pelted +down in a wintry flood, banking up piles of stinging hail between +warmer showerings. Fred had decided to forgo his soliciting and stay +indoors instead. Hilmer greeted him with biting raillery. + +"Well, I should think this was a good day to bag a prospective +customer," he flung out as he laid his umbrella aside. "Or is business +swamping you?" + +Fred tossed back a trite rejoinder. Helen went on pounding her machine +... she did not even lift her eyes. + +"I've got something for you to-day," Hilmer went on, as he unbound the +bundle of papers and sat down beside Fred. + +Starratt saw the edge of a blue print in Hilmer's hand. This spelled +all manner of possibilities, but he checked a surge of illogical hope. +"That's fine," he answered, heartily. "But why didn't you send for me? +I could have come over. It's bad enough to take your business without +letting you bring it in on a day like this..." + +Hilmer made a contemptuous gesture. "Wind and weather never made any +difference to me... I've traveled twenty miles in a blizzard to court +a girl." + +"Oh, when a woman's involved, that's different," Fred laughed back. +"There's nothing as alluring here." + +"Well, Mrs. Starratt, what do you say?" Hilmer called out to her. +"Your husband doesn't seem to count you in at all." + +Helen was erasing a misspelled word. "Married women are used to that," +she retorted, flippantly. "Sometimes it's just as well that they +overlook us. We get a chance to play our own hand once in a while." + +Everybody laughed, including Fred, but the effort hurt him. There was +a suggestion of unpleasant mockery in Helen's tone. She seemed to be +hiding her contempt behind a thin veil of acrid humor. And somehow +this revelation in the presence of Hilmer stung him. + +"I'll bet you can't guess what I've got here," Hilmer began again, +tapping the bundle of papers with his ringer. + +Starratt shook his head and Hilmer tossed him the blue print. + +"Not the insurance on your shipbuilding plant?" escaped Fred, +incredulously. + +Hilmer crossed his legs and settled back in his chair. + +"You said it!" he announced. "And it's all going to you after we've +settled one question... I've been bringing you in little odds and ends +as I've had them ... not enough to matter much one way or another ... +so I haven't bothered to really get down and talk business. This is a +half-million-dollar line and a little bit different. It means about +fifteen thousand dollars in premiums, to be exact. You can figure what +your commission will be at fifteen per cent, to say nothing of how +solid this will make you with the street... Later on there 'll be +workmen's compensation, boiler insurance, public liability. It's a +pretty nice little plum, if I do say so." + +Helen stopped her typing. Fred could feel his lips drying with mingled +anticipation and apprehension. He knew just what demand Hilmer +intended making. + +"The question is," Hilmer continued, "how much of the commission are +you going to split up with me?" + +Fred shrugged. "You know the rules of the Broker's Exchange as well as +I do, Hilmer. I've pledged myself not to do any rebating." + +Hilmer did not betray the slightest surprise at Starratt's reply. +Evidently he had heard something of the same argument before. + +"Everybody does it," was his calmly brief rejoinder. + +"You mean Kendrick, to be exact... I'm sorry, but I don't see it that +way." + +"Do you mean that you would rather pass up a half-million-dollar line +than share the spoils?" + +"It isn't a question of choice, Hilmer. You must know I don't want to +lose five cents' worth of business. But there are some things a +gentleman doesn't do." + +He was sorry once the last remark had escaped him, but Hilmer didn't +seem disconcerted by the covert inference. + +"Scruples are like laws," Hilmer returned, affably. "I never saw one +yet that couldn't be gotten round legitimately." + +"Oh yes, you can subscribe to any one of the Ten Commandments with +your fingers crossed, if you like that kind of a game. But I don't." + +Hilmer moved in his seat with an implication of leave-taking. "Well, +every man to his own taste," he said, as he reached for the blue print +and proceeded to fold it up. + +Starratt leaned toward him. His attitude was strangely earnest. + +"Do you really like to participate in a game you know to be unfair, +Hilmer?--dishonest, in fact?" + +"Participating? I haven't signed any Broker's Exchange agreement. I'm +not breaking any pledge when I accept a share of insurance commission. +That's up to the other fellow." + +"Ah, but you know that he is breaking faith... And a man that will +double cross his associates will double cross you if the opportunity +presents itself... Would you put a man in charge of your cash drawer +when you knew that he had looted some one else's safe?" + +"That's not the same thing," Hilmer sneered. "That is, it's only the +same in theory. Practically, an insurance broker couldn't double cross +me if he wanted to... I wouldn't put a thief in charge of my cash +drawer, but I might make him a night watchman. He'd know all the +tricks of the trade." + +"Including the secret entrances that those on the outside wouldn't +know... A crook wouldn't stay all his life on the night-watchman's +job, believe me." + +He noticed that Helen was regarding him keenly and her glance +registered indulgent surprise rather than disapproval. Hilmer, too, +had grown a bit more tolerant. He felt a measure of pride in the +realization that he could make his points so calmly and +dispassionately, putting this rough-hewn man before him on the +defensive. But Hilmer's wavering was only momentary; he was not a man +to waste time in argument when he discovered that such a weapon was +futile. + +"Then I understand you don't want the business?" + +"Not on those terms." + +Hilmer shrugged. + +Helen leaned forward and put out a hand. "Let's see!" she half +commanded. + +Hilmer gave her the blue print and the package of memoranda. She began +to unfold one of the insurance forms, bending over it curiously. Fred +was puzzled. He knew that Helen was too unacquainted with insurance +matters to have any knowledge of the printed schedule she was +studying, yet he had to concede that she was giving a splendid +imitation of an experienced hand. Her acting annoyed him. He turned +toward Hilmer with an indifferent comment on the weather and the talk +veered to inconsequential subjects. Helen continued her scrutiny of +the forms. + +Finally Hilmer rose to go. Helen made no move to return the memoranda. +Fred cleared his throat and even coughed significantly, but Helen was +oblivious. Presently Starratt went up to his wife and said, +deliberately: + +"Hilmer is going ... you better give him back his papers." + +She turned a glance of startled innocence upon them both. "Oh!" she +exclaimed, petulantly. "How disappointing...and just as I was becoming +interested... Why don't you men go have your usual drink? I'll be +through with them then." + +Hilmer gave a silent assent and Fred followed him. There didn't seem +to be anything else to do. On the way out they met Hilmer's office boy +in the corridor. Hilmer was wanted on a matter of importance at the +office. He waved a brief farewell to Fred and left. + +Fred went back to his wife. She had abandoned the forms and was +lolling in her chair, sucking at an orange. + +"Hilmer's been called suddenly to his office on business," he said, +brusquely. She turned and faced him. "You'd better put those papers in +the safe. I'll take them back myself to-morrow. I can't see what +possessed you to insist on looking them over, anyway." + +She squeezed the orange in her hand. "Well, when we get ready to +handle the business I want to know something about it." + +He stared. "Handle the business? You heard what I said, didn't you?" + +"Yes, I heard," she said, wearily, and she went on with her orange. + +He did not say anything further, but the next morning a telephone +message put to rout his resolve to return Hilmer's insurance forms in +person. + +"I've got to go up Market Street to see a man about some workmen's +compensation," he explained to Helen. "You'd better put on your hat +and take those things to Hilmer yourself." + +She did not answer... + +He returned at three o'clock. Helen was very busy pounding away at the +typewriter. + +"Well, what's all the rush?" he asked. + +"I'm getting out the forms on Hilmer's shipping plant," she returned, +nonchalantly. + +"What do you mean?... Didn't you..." + +"No ... he's decided to let us handle the business." + +"Why ... on what grounds?" + +She waved a bit of carbon paper in the air. "How should I know? I +didn't ask him!" + +Her contemptuous indifference irritated him. "You ought to have waited +until I got back... You've probably got everything mixed up... It +takes experience to map out a big schedule like that." + +"Hilmer showed me what to do," she retorted, calmly. + +"Then he's been over here?" + +"Yes ... all morning." + +He narrowed his eyes. She went on with her typewriting. + +"Well, I'll be damned!" escaped him. + +His wife replied with a tripping laugh. + +At that moment Brauer came in. "I hear you've got the Hilmer line," he +broke out, excitedly. "They say Kendrick is wild... How much did you +have to split?" + +"Nothing," Starratt said, coldly. + +"Nothing?" Brauer's gaze swept from Starratt to Helen and back again. +"How did you land it, then?" + +Helen stood up, thrusting a pencil into her hair. + +"I landed it, Mr. Brauer," she said, sweetly, tossing her husband a +commiserating smile. + +Brauer's thin lips parted unpleasantly. "I told you at the start, +Starratt, that a good stenographer would work wonders." + +Fred forced a sickly laugh. He wished that Helen Starratt had stayed +at home where she belonged. + +It had been a long time since the insurance world on California Street +had been given such a chance for gossip as the shifting of the Hilmer +insurance provided. Naturally, business changes took place every day, +but it was unusual to have such a rank beginner at the brokerage game +put over so neat a trick. Speculation was rife. Some said that Hilmer +was backing the entire Starratt venture, that he, in fact, was +Starratt & Co., with Fred merely a salaried man, allowing his name to +be used. Others conceded a partnership arrangement. But Kendrick +announced in a loud tone up and down the street: + +"Partnership nothing! I know Hilmer. He's got too many irons in the +fire now. He wouldn't be annoyed with the insurance game. This fellow +Starratt is rebating--that's what he is!" + +Of course the street laughed. Kendrick's indignation was quite too +comic, considering his own reputation. To this argument, those who +held to the proprietor and partnership theories replied: + +"That may all be, but he wastes an awful lot of time in Starratt's +office for a fellow who's so rushed with his other ventures." + +It was at this point that a few people raised their eyebrows +significantly as they said: + +"Well, the old boy always did have a pretty keen eye for a skirt." + +It was impossible for Fred Starratt to move anywhere without hearing +fragments of all this gossip. During the noon hour particularly it +filtered through the midday tattle of business, pleasure, and +obscenity--at the Market, at Collins & Wheeland's, at Hjul's coffee +house, at Grover's Lunchroom--everywhere that clerks forgathered to +appease their hunger and indulge in idle speculations. Sometimes he +got these things indirectly through chance slips in talks with his +friends, again scraps of overheard conversation reached his ears. +Quite frequently a frank or a coarse acquaintance, without +embarrassment or reserve, would tell him what had been said. He soon +got over protesting. If he convinced anybody that he was getting +Hilmer's business without financial concessions, he had to take the +nasty alternative which the smirks of his audience betrayed... It +would not have been so bad if he could have explained the situation to +himself, but any attempt to solve the riddle moved in a vicious +circle. He used to long for a simplicity that would make him accept +Hilmer's favors on their face value. Why couldn't one believe in +friendship and disinterestedness? Perhaps it would have been easier if +he had lacked any knowledge of Hilmer's philosophy of life. Starratt +couldn't remember anything in the recital of Hilmer's past performance +or his present attitude that dovetailed with benevolence... He +retreated, baffled from these speculative tilts, to the refuge of a +comforting conviction that fortunately no man was thoroughly +consistent. Perhaps therein lay the secret of Hilmer's puzzling +prodigality--because, boiled down to hard facts, it was apparent that +Hilmer was making Starratt & Co. a present of several hundred dollars +a year. Sometimes, in a wild flight of conjecture, he used to wonder +how far his argument with Hilmer regarding the ethics of being a +negative party to another man's dishonesty had been borne home? It +seemed almost too fantastic to fancy that he could have put over his +rather finely spun business morality in such a brief flash, if at all. + +At first he had plunged in too speedily to his venture to formulate +many ideals of business conduct, but as he had progressed he found his +standards springing to life full grown. + +He had been long enough in the insurance business to realize the +estimate that average clients had of an insurance broker--they looked +upon him as a struggling friend or a poor relation or an agreeable, +persuasive grafter, whose only work consisted in talking them into +indifferent acceptance of an insurance policy and then pestering them +into a reluctant payment of the premium. Of course big business firms +recognized a broker's expertness or lack of it, though, quite +frequently, as in Hilmer's case, they were more snared by a share in +the profits than by the claims of efficiency. But Starratt wanted to +succeed merely on his merit. He wanted to teach people to say of him: + +"I go to Fred Starratt because he's the keenest, the most reliable man +in the field. And for no other reason." + +In short, he wished to earn his commission, and not to share it. He +wanted to prove to people that an insurance broker was neither a +barbered mendicant nor a genial incompetent. Had he known that a +conviction of his ability lay at the bottom of Hilmer's sudden change +in business tactics he would have been content. As it was, in spite of +the impetus this sudden push gave his career he had moments when he +would have felt happier without such dubious patronage. As a matter of +fact, Hilmer rather ignored him. He brought in his business usually +during Fred's absence from the office, and Helen, under his guidance, +had everything ready before her husband had time to suggest any line +of action. Forms, apportionments, applications--there did not seem to +be a detail that Hilmer had overlooked or Helen had failed to execute. +Starratt tried not to appear irritated. He didn't like to admit even +to himself that he could be small enough to resent his wife's curious +efficiency. But he wished she weren't there. One day he said to her, +as inconsequentially as he could: + +"I really think, my dear, that I ought to be planning to get a woman +here in your place... Now that Hilmer's business is reasonably +assured, I can afford it... It's too much to ask of you--keeping up +your house and doing this, too." + +"Well," she shrugged, "we can board if it gets too much for me." + +"You know I detest boarding." + +"I can hire help, then. Mrs. Finn would come in by the day. But, as a +matter of fact, this isn't any more strenuous than my year of the Red +Cross work. I managed then; I guess I can manage now." + +"But I thought you didn't like business life." + +"I'm not crazy about it ... but I want to get you started right. +Suppose you got a girl in here who didn't know how to manage Hilmer?" + +He checked the retort that rose to his lips... He couldn't help +getting the nasty inferences that people on the street threw at him +unconsciously or maliciously, but he _could_ help voicing them or +admitting them even to himself. + +"Is ... is Hilmer so hard to manage?" he found himself inquiring. + +Helen looked up sharply. "No harder than most men," she answered, +slipping easily from the traces of his cross-examination. + +His rancor outran his reserve. "I guess I'm vain," he threw out +bitterly, "but I'd like to feel that I could land one piece of +business without _anybody's_ help." + +She laughed indulgently. "Why, Freddie, that isn't nice! You landed +Hilmer at the start... Don't you remember that very first line? On his +automobile?" + +There was something insincere in her tone, in the lift of her eyes, in +her cryptic smile. But he smothered such unworthy promptings. It was +fresh proof of his own unreasonable conceit. He turned away from his +wife in silence, but he was sure that his face betrayed his feelings. + +Presently he felt her standing very close to him. He turned about +sharply, almost in irritation. Her mouth was raised temptingly. He +bent over and kissed her, but he withdrew as swiftly. Her lips left a +bitter taste that he could not define. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +March passed in a blur of wind and cold, penetrating rains. Except for +the placing of the insurance on the Hilmer shipbuilding plant, +business was dull. Fred began to make moves toward getting in money. +But it was heartbreaking work. The people who had yielded up their +consent so smilingly to Fred for personal accident policies, or +automobile insurance, passed him furtively on the street or sent word +out to him when he called at their offices that they were busy or +broke or leaving town. He did not attempt to do much toward collecting +the fire-insurance premiums. Most people with fire policies knew their +rights and stood by them. The premiums on March business were not due +until the end of May and it was useless to make the rounds much before +the middle of that month. + +The whisperings on the street continued, and a few surly growls from +Kendrick reached Fred's ears. One day a close friend of Fred, who knew +something of Insurance Exchange matters, said to him: + +"There's something going on inside, but I can't quite get the dope... +I hope you're not giving Kendrick the chance to have you called for +rebating... He's an ugly customer when he gets in action." + +Fred was annoyed. "I've told you again and again," he retorted, "that +I'm not yielding a cent on the Hilmer business." + +"It isn't that," was the reply. "Kendrick knows better than to stir up +a situation he's helped to befoul himself... No, it's another matter." + +Fred shrugged and changed the subject, but his thoughts flew at once +to Brauer. He decided not to say anything to his partner until he made +a move toward investigating, himself. + +The next morning he took a half dozen names of Brauer's customers at +random from the ledger and he made out bills for their premiums. +Practically all of Brauer's business was fire insurance, so Fred had +typical cases for his test. The first man he called on produced a +receipt from Brauer for the premium paid on the very day the policy +was issued. The second man protested that he had paid Brauer only the +day before. The third man stated brusquely that he had placed his +business through Brauer and he was the man he intended to settle with. +The fourth was noncommittal, but it was the fifth client who produced +the straw that betrayed the direction of the wind. + +"I want to see Brauer," the man said. "He promised to do something for +me." + +The sixth customer was even more direct. + +"There's something to come off the premium," he said. "Brauer knows." + +Fred did not wait for Brauer to come into the office--he went and took +him to lunch instead, where he could prod him away from Helen's sight +and hearing. + +"I'm surprised at you, Brauer," Starratt broke out suddenly, once they +were seated at Grover's and had given the girl their order. + +"Over what?" Brauer's face clouded craftily. + +"Why do you go about collecting premiums and holding them back from +the office?... That isn't sound business tactics." + +Brauer's sharp teeth glistened savagely in spite of his weak and +bloodless mouth. "What have you been doing ... bothering _my_ people? +I'll trouble you to let me attend to my own clients in future. Those +premiums aren't due for a good six weeks yet. When they are I'll turn +them in." + +Fred cooled a little in the face of Brauer's vehemence. "Oh, come now, +what's the use of talking like that? I'm not intending to bother your +customers, but there are some things due me... My name is on every one +of those policies. Therefore I ought to know when they are paid and +anything else about the business that concerns me. You know as well as +I do what is reasonable and just. Suppose you were taken ill. It +doesn't look right for a firm to go about making attempts to collect +premiums that have been paid." + +"Well ... you're pretty previous, Starratt, dogging folks in March for +money that isn't due until May," Brauer grumbled back. "What's the +idea, anyway?" + +Starratt leaned forward. "Just this, Brauer. I heard some ugly gossip +yesterday, and I wanted to find out if it had any justification. It +seems Kendrick is after us. He's going to try and get us on a rebating +charge. I saw six of your people ... and I'm reasonably sure that two +out of that six have been promised a rake-off... Do you call that fair +to me?" + +"That's a lie!" Brauer broke out, too emphatically. + +"I doubt it!" Starratt replied, coldly. "But that's neither here nor +there. What's done is done. But I don't want any more of it. I'm +playing a square game. I was ready to throw Hilmer overboard rather +than compromise, and I'll--" + +"Do the same thing to me, I suppose!" Brauer challenged. + +Fred looked at him steadily. "Precisely," he answered. + +The waitress arrived with their orders and Starratt changed the +subject... Brauer recovered his civility, but hardly his good temper. +At the close of the meal they parted politely. Fred could see that +Brauer was bursting with spite. For himself, he decided then and there +to eliminate Brauer at the first opportunity. + +A few days later Brauer came into the office with an order to place a +workmen's compensation policy. It covered the entire force of a +canning concern, and the premium was based upon a large pay roll. + +"I've had to split the commission with them," Brauer announced, +defiantly. "That's legitimate enough with this sort of business, isn't +it?" + +Starratt nodded. "It's done, but I'm not keen for it. However, there +isn't any law against it." + +The policy was made out and delivered to Brauer, and almost +immediately he came back with a check for the premium. "They paid me +at once," he exulted. + +Starratt refused to express any enthusiasm. Brauer sat down at a desk +and drew out his check book. "I guess I might as well settle up for +the other premiums I've collected," he said, "while I'm about it." + +He made out a long list of fire premiums and drew his check for their +full amount, plus the workmen's compensation premium in his +possession. But he took 5 per cent off the latter item. + +Starratt made no comment. But he was willing to stake his life that +the check from the canning company to Brauer was for a full premium +without any 5-per-cent reduction, and that Brauer, himself, was +withholding this alleged rebate and applying it to making up the +deficits on the fire premiums he had discounted. + +The next day Fred's friend said again: "Kendrick's doing some gum-shoe +work, Starratt... You'd better go awful slow." + +With the coming of May other anxieties claimed Starratt's attention. +Bills that he had forgotten or neglected began to pour in. There was +his tailor bill, long overdue, and two accounts with dry-goods stores +that Helen had run up in the days when the certainty of a fixed salary +income had seemed sure. A dentist bill for work done in December made +its appearance and, of course, the usual household expenditures went +merrily on. The rent of their apartment was raised. Collections were +slow. In March the commissions on collected premiums had just about +paid the office rent and the telephone... April showed up better, but +May, of course, held great promise. At the end of May the Hilmer +premiums would be due and the firm of Starratt & Co. on its feet, with +over two thousand dollars in commissions actually in hand. On the +strength of these prospects Helen began to order a new outfit. Fred +Starratt did not have the heart to complain. Helen had earned every +stitch of clothing that she was buying--there was no doubt about that; +still, he would have liked to be less hasty in her expenditures. He +had been too long in business to count much on prospects. He disliked +borrowing more money from Brauer, but there was no alternative. Brauer +fell to grumbling quite audibly over these advances, and he saw to it +that Fred's notes for the amounts always were forthcoming. Hilmer did +not come in quite so often to the office; a rush of shipbuilding +construction took him over to his yards in Oakland nearly every day. +But Mrs. Hilmer was in evidence a good deal. Helen was constantly +calling her up and asking her to drop downtown for luncheon or for a +bit of noonday shopping uptown or just for a talk. + +"She's a dear!" Helen used to say to Fred. "And I just love her to +death..." + +Fred could not fathom Helen. A year ago he felt sure that Mrs. Hilmer +was the last woman in the world that Helen would have found bearable, +much less attractive... He concluded that Helen was enjoying the +novelty of watching Mrs. Hilmer nibble at a discreet feminine +frivolity to which she was unaccustomed. After a while he looked for +outward changes in Mrs. Hilmer's make-up. He figured that the shopping +tours with Helen might be reflected in a sprightlier bonnet or a +narrower skirt or a higher heel on her shoe. But no such +transformation took place. Indeed, her costuming seemed to grow more +and more uncompromising--more Dutch, to use the time-worn phrase, made +significant to Fred Starratt by his mother. But Helen always made a +point to compliment her on her appearance. + +"You look too sweet for anything!" Helen would exclaim, rushing upon +her new friend with an eager kiss. + +At this Mrs. Hilmer always dimpled with wholesome pleasure. Well, she +did look sweet, in a motherly, bovine way, Fred admitted, when the +note of insincerity in his wife's voice jarred him. + +One day Mrs. Hilmer brought down a hat the two had picked out and +which had been altered at Helen's suggestion. She tried it on for +Helen's approval, and Fred stood back in a corner while Helen went +into ecstasies over it. Even a man could not escape the fact that it +was unbecoming. Somehow, in a subtle way, it seemed to accent all of +Mrs. Hilmer's unprepossessing features. When she left the office Fred +said to Helen, casually: + +"I don't think much of your taste, old girl. That hat was awful!" + +Helen laughed maliciously. "Of course it was!" she flung back. + +Starratt shrugged and said no more. There was kindliness back of many +deceits, but he knew now that Helen's insincerities with Mrs. Hilmer +were not justified by even so dubious virtue. + +At the moment when the Hilmer shipyard insurance had been turned over +to Fred Starratt he had at once made a move toward a reduction in the +rate. Having gone over the schedule at the Board of Fire Underwriters, +he had discovered that they had failed to give Hilmer credit in the +rating for certain fire protection. On the strength of Starratt's +application for a change a new rate was published about the middle of +May. Starratt was jubilant. Here was proof for Hilmer that his +interests were being guarded and that it paid to employ an efficient +broker. He flew at once to Hilmer's office. + +"Let me have your policies," he burst out. +"I've secured a new rate for you and I want the reduction indorsed." + +Hilmer did not appear to be moved by the announcement. + +"Better cancel and rewrite the bunch," he replied, briefly. + +Fred gasped. This meant that only about a sixth of the premium on the +present policies would be due and payable at the end of the month and +the prospects of a big clean-up on commissions delayed until July. + +"Oh, that won't be necessary," he tried to say, calmly. "This +reduction applies from the original date of the policies. It's just as +if they had been written up at the new rate." + +Hilmer ripped open a letter that he had been toying with. "Better +cancel," he announced, dryly. "It's a good excuse, and I'm a little +pressed for money. It will delay a big expenditure." + +There was no room for further argument. Fred left, crestfallen. Was +Hilmer making sport of him, he wondered. He must wait then until July +for an easy financial road. And would July see him? out of the woods? +Suppose Hilmer were to conjure up another excuse for canceling and +reissuing just as the second batch of premiums fell due? + +He voiced his fears and anxieties to Helen. She shrugged +indifferently. + +"You told me when you went into business that you weren't counting on +Hilmer," she observed, with a suggestion of a sneer. + +So he had thought or, at least, so he had pretended. What colossal +braveries he had assumed in his attempts to play a swaggering role! He +had started in with the determination to set a new standard in the +insurance world. _He_ was going to show people that a young man could +begin with nothing but honesty and merit and walk away with the +biggest kind of business. He knew that his hands were clean, but he +realized that not one in ten believed it. He had to confess that +appearances were against him. Scarcely anyone believed the Hilmer +myth. And underneath the surface was Brauer. Fred felt sure that +Brauer's ethical lapses were still in progress. At intervals Brauer +always contrived to place an insurance line other than fire and insist +that he was compelled to grant a discount. These premiums were always +settled promptly and, in their wake, a list of fire premiums paid in +full were turned in by Brauer. It was plain that Peter was being +robbed to pay Paul. Starratt even grew to fancy that there was a +substantial balance left over from these alleged discounts to clients, +which Brauer pocketed himself. But he had to smile and pretend that he +did not suspect. Were his hands clean, after all? Well, just as soon +as it was possible he intended to rid himself of Brauer. But how soon +_would_ that be possible? And meanwhile Kendrick was sniffing out +disquieting odors. + +He rallied from his first depression with a tight-lipped +determination. He was not trying out a business venture so much as he +was trying out himself. Previously he had always figured success and +failure as his performance reacted on his audience. He was learning +that one could impress a stupendous crowd and really fail, or strut +upon the boards of an empty playhouse and still succeed. He began to +realize just what was meant by the term self-esteem--how hard and +uncompromising and exacting it was. To disappoint another was a +humiliation; to disappoint oneself was a tragedy. And the tragedy +became deep in proportion to the ability to be self-searching. There +were moments when he closed his eyes to self-analysis...when it seemed +better to press on without disturbing glimpses either backward or +forward. He was eager to gain an economic foothold first--there would +be time later for recapitulations and readjustments to his widening +vision. + +The two months following were rough and uneven. He had to borrow +continually from Brauer, meet Hilmer with a bland smile, suffer the +covert sarcasms of his wife. Some money came in, but it barely kept +things moving. His broker friend had been right--the payment of any +premiums but fire premiums dragged on "till the cows came home." Many +of the policies that had seemed so easy to write up came back for +total cancellation. This man had buried a father, another had married +a wife, a third had bought a piece of ground--the excuses were all +valid, and they came from friends, so there was nothing to do but +smile and assure them that it didn't matter. + +But somehow Starratt weathered the storm and the day came when the +Hilmer insurance fell due. Fred found Hilmer absent from his desk, but +the cashier received him blandly. Yes, they were ready to pay, in fact +the check was drawn and only awaited Hilmer's signature. To-morrow, at +the latest, it would be forthcoming. Fred drew a long sigh of relief. +He went back to his office whistling. + +In the hallway he met Brauer. + +"I want to have a talk with you," Brauer began, almost apologetically. + +Fred waved him in and Brauer came direct to the point. He was +dissatisfied with the present arrangement and he was ready to pull out +if Fred were in a position to square things. His demands were +extraordinarily fair--he asked to have the notes for any advances met, +plus 50 per cent of the profit on any business he had turned in. He +claimed no share of the profits on Fred's business. + +"I suppose you've collected the Hilmer premiums," he threw out, +significantly. + +Fred nodded and began a rapid calculation. It turned out that he had +borrowed about $500 from his partner and that 50 per cent of the +commissions on the Brauer business came to a scant $125. Well, his +profits on the Hilmer insurance would be in the neighborhood of $1,900 +under the new rate. To-morrow he would be in possession of this sum. +It was too easy! He drew out his check book, deciding to close the +deal before Brauer had a chance to change his mind. Brauer received +the check with a bland smile and surrendered the notes and the +partnership agreement. + +At the door they shook hands heartily. Brauer said at parting: + +"Well, good luck, old man... I hope you aren't sore." + +Fred tried to suppress his delight. "Oh no, nothing like that! If it +_had_ to come I'm glad to see everything end pleasantly." + +And as Brauer drifted down the hall Starratt called out, suddenly: + +"I say, Brauer, don't put that check through the bank until day after +to-morrow, will you?" + +Brauer nodded a swift acquiescence and disappeared into a waiting +elevator. + +Fred retreated to his desk. "Well," he said to Helen, as he let out a +deep sigh, "that's what I call easy!" + +She looked up from her work. "Almost too easy," she answered. He made +no reply and presently she said: "You didn't tell me how tightly you +let him sew us up. With signed notes and that agreement he could have +been nasty... It's strange he didn't wait a day or two and then claim +half of the Hilmer commissions... I wonder why he was in such a rush?" + +Fred shrugged. Helen's shrewdness annoyed him. + +That evening just as Helen and he were getting ready to leave, a +messenger from the Broker's Exchange handed him a note. He broke the +seal and read a summons to appear before the executive committee on +the following morning. His face must have betrayed him, for Helen +halted the adjustment of her veil as she inquired: + +"What's wrong? Any trouble?" + +He recovered himself swiftly. "Oh no ... just a meeting at the +Exchange to-morrow." + +But as he folded up the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket he +began to have a suspicion as to the reason for Brauer's haste. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next morning Fred Starratt went down to the office alone. Mrs. +Hilmer had telephoned the night before an invitation for Helen to join +them in a motor trip down the Ocean Shore Boulevard to Half moon Bay +and home by way of San Mateo. Hilmer was entertaining a party of Norse +visitors. Helen demurred at first, but Fred interrupted the +conversation to insist: + +"Go on ... by all means! The change will be good for you. I can run +the office for a day." + +Secretly he was glad to be rid of his wife's presence. He didn't know +what trouble might be impending and he wanted to face the music +without the irritation of a prying audience. + +His fears were confirmed. He had been brought before the executive +committee on a charge of rebating preferred by Kendrick. The evidence +was complete in at least three cases and they all involved Brauer's +clients. In short, Kendrick had sworn affidavits from three people to +the effect that a representative of Starratt & Co. had granted a +discount on fire-insurance business. Obviously all three cases had +been planted by Kendrick, and Brauer had walked into the trap with +both feet. There was nothing for Fred to do but to explain the whole +situation--who Brauer was and why he had an interest in the firm. He +found the committee reasonably sympathetic, but they still had their +suspicions. Fred could see that even the sudden withdrawal of Brauer +from partnership with him had its questionable side. It looked a bit +like clever connivance. However, his inquisitors promised to look +fairly into the question before presenting an ultimatum. + +Fred went back to his office reassured. He had a feeling that in the +end the committee would purge him or at least give him another chance. +It was inconceivable that they would pronounce the penalty of +expulsion, although they might impose a fine. He was so glad to be rid +of Brauer, though, that he counted the whole circumstance as little +short of providential. + +He found a large mail at the office and quite a few remittances, but +the Hilmer check was not in evidence. He remembered now, with chagrin, +that Hilmer was away for the day. Still, there was a possibility that +he had signed the check late last night. He called up Hilmer's office. +No, the check had not been signed. Fred reminded the cashier that this +was the last day to get the money into the companies. But the watchdog +of the Hilmer treasury had been through too many financial pressures +to be disturbed. + +"They'll have to give us the usual five-day cancellation notice," he +returned, blandly. "And payment will be made before the five days +lapse." + +Fred hung up the phone and cursed audibly. Of course a day or two or +three wouldn't have made any difference ordinarily. But there was that +damn check out to Brauer. Well, he had told Brauer to hold it until +Friday. There was still another day. He hated to go around and ask any +further favors of his contemptible ex-partner, and he hoped he +wouldn't have to request another postponement to the formality of +putting the Brauer check through. Of course he had had no business +making out a check for funds not in hand. But under the +circumstances... What in hell was he worrying for? Everything would +come out all right. What could Brauer do about it, anyway? As a matter +of fact, he figured that under the circumstances he had a perfect +right to stop payment on that Brauer check if he had been so disposed. +For a moment the thought allured him. But his surrender to such a +petty retaliation, passed swiftly. No, he wouldn't tar himself with +any such defiling brush. He'd simply wipe Brauer from the slate and +begin fresh. + +He kept to his office all day. He didn't want to run afoul of either +Kendrick or Brauer on the street, and, besides, with Helen away, it +was a good day to clean up a lot of odds and ends that had been +neglected during the pressure of soliciting business. It was six +o'clock when he slammed down his roll-top desk and prepared to leave. +He had planned to meet Helen for dinner at Felix's. He found himself a +bit fagged and he grew irritated at the thought that prohibition had +robbed him of his right of easy access to a reviving cocktail. He knew +many places where he could buy bad drinks furtively, but he resented +both the method and the vileness of the mixtures. He was putting on +his coat when he heard a rap at the door. He crossed over and turned +the knob, admitting a man standing upon the threshold. + +"Is this Mr. Starratt?" the stranger began. + +Fred nodded. + +"Well, I'm sorry to bring bad news, but there's been a nasty accident. +Mr. Hilmer's car went over a bank near Montara this afternoon... Mrs. +Hilmer was hurt pretty badly, but everybody else is fairly well off... +Your wife asked me to drop in and see you. I drove the car that helped +rescue them... Don't be alarmed; Mrs. Starratt isn't hurt beyond a +tough shaking up. But she feels she ought to stay with Mrs. +Hilmer--under the circumstances." + +Fred tried to appear calm. "Oh yes, of course ... naturally... And how +about Hilmer himself?" + +The man shrugged. "He's pretty fair. So far a broken arm is all +they've found wrong with him." + +"His right arm, I suppose?" Fred suggested, with an air of +resignation. He was wondering whether anybody at Hilmer's office had +authority to sign checks. + +"Yes," the visitor assented, briefly. + +Fred Starratt had a hasty meal and then he took a direct car line for +the Hilmers'. He had never been to their house, but he found just +about what he had expected--a two-story hand-me-down dwelling in the +Richmond district, a bit more pretentious and boasting greater garden +space than most of the homes in the block. Helen answered his ring. +She had her wrist in a tight bandage. + +"Just a sprain," she explained, rather loftily. "The doctor says it +will be all right in a day or two." + +Fred sat down in an easy-chair and glanced up and down the living +room. It was scrupulously neat, reflecting a neutral taste. The +furniture was a mixture of golden and fumed oak done in heavy mission +style and the pictures on the wall consisted of dubious oil paintings +and enlarged photographs. A victrola stood in a corner, and the +upright piano near the center of the room formed a background for a +precisely draped, imitation mandarin skirt and a convenient shelf for +family photographs and hand-painted vases. On the mantel an elaborate +onyx-and-bronze clock ticked inaudibly. + +Helen sat apart, almost with the detachment of a hostess receiving a +casual acquaintance, as she recounted the incidents of the disastrous +ride. Hilmer had been driving fairly carefully, but in swerving to +avoid running down a cow that suddenly had made its appearance in the +road the machine had skidded and gone over a steep bank. Mrs. Hilmer's +condition was really quite serious. The doctor had intimated that even +if she pulled through she might never walk again. They had a nurse, of +course--two, in fact--but some one had to be there to look after +things. The servant girl was just a raw Swede who did the heavy +work--Mrs. Hilmer always had done most of the cooking herself. + +Fred inquired for Hilmer. He had a broken wrist and several bad +sprains and bruises, but he was resting easily. + +"I didn't get that check for the premiums to-day," Fred said. + +Helen rose from her seat. "I'll speak to him about it to-morrow," she +returned, lightly. + +Her movement implied dismissal. Fred left his seat and stood for a +moment, awkwardly fingering his hat. + +"I suppose," he faltered, "you don't know just how long you'll be +needed here." + +"That depends," she answered, shrugging. + +"Then I'd better get some one in temporarily at the office." + +She nodded. + +"Well, good night," he said. + +She kissed him perfunctorily and presently he found himself in the +street again, bound for home. + +A low fog was whitening the air and the breeze blowing in fresh from +the ocean was sharp of tooth. Fred shivered slightly and buttoned his +overcoat. + +"I guess she's still kind of dazed," he muttered to himself. But above +his perplexity soared a fresh determination. He would get a woman in +his wife's place in the office and he would keep her there. It was +time Helen stayed home where she belonged. + +The next morning he went early to Hilmer's office. The cashier took +him aside. + +"Hilmer has authorized me to sign checks," he explained. "But I +understand you're in wrong with the Exchange... I think I'll make out +checks direct to the different companies. That's always the safest +thing to do in a jam." + +Fred was too furious even to protest. "I don't quite get the idea," he +returned. "But that's up to you. If you want to write thirty-odd +checks instead of one, that's your business, I suppose." + +"Oh, that isn't any trouble," returned the man, complacently. + +Fred swung back to his office. Kendrick must have been gossiping with +a vengeance! What would the insurance offices on the street think when +they received their checks direct from the Hilmer company? It was +insulting! And now he would have to trail about collecting his +commissions instead of merely withholding them from the remittance +that should have been put in his hand. Still, on second thought, he +did feel relieved to know that the matter wouldn't drag on any +longer--that he wouldn't have to ask Brauer to hold off with his bank +deposit another moment. He waited until after the noon hour to begin +the collection of his commissions. Hilmer's cashier had promised to +send his messenger around to the different companies before eleven +o'clock. + +He went into the first office with an assumption of buoyance. The +cashier looked down at him through quizzical spectacles. Yes, the +Hilmer premium was in, but he was very sorry--he couldn't pay Starratt +& Co. anything. + +"Why?" Fred demanded, hotly. + +Because the Insurance Broker's Exchange had sent out a circular asking +the companies to withhold any commissions due that firm until certain +charges of rebating were investigated further and disproved. + +Fred fled to the Exchange. The secretary was out, but his stenographer +confirmed the circular. Fred went back to his office to think things +over. Again he was tempted to repudiate the Brauer check at the bank +and let Brauer do his worst. But he drew back from such a course with +his usual repugnance. He saw now that all his high-flown theory about +standing on his own feet was the merest sophistry. So far, he was +nothing but the product of Hilmer's puzzling benevolence. One jam in +the wheel and everything halted. He thought the whole matter out. He +was still what Hilmer had intimated on the night of that disturbing +dinner party--a creature with a back bent by continual bowing and +scraping--a full-grown man with standards inherited instead of +acquired. Why didn't he go around to the office of Ford, Wetherbee & +Co. and beat up his nasty little ex-partner? Why didn't he meet +Kendrick's gumshoe activities with equal stealth? It should have been +possible to snare Kendrick if one had the guts. And why accept a +gratuity from Hilmer in the shape of two thousand dollars more or less +for commissions on business that one never really had earned the right +to? He began to suspect that Hilmer had instructed his cashier to pay +the companies direct. It was probably his patron's way of forcing home +the idea that the commissions _were_ a gratuity. No doubt even now he +was chuckling at the spectacle of Starratt running about the street +picking up the doles. He decided, once and for all, that he wouldn't +go on being an object of satirical charity. He wouldn't refuse the +Hilmer business, but he would put it on the proper basis. He would put +a proposition squarely up to Hilmer whereby Hilmer would become a +definite partner in the firm--Hilmer, Starratt & Co., to be exact. +This would mean not only an opportunity to handle all the Hilmer +business itself, but to control other insurance that Hilmer had his +finger in. There would be no silent partners, no gratuitous assistance +from either clients or wife, no evasions. From this moment on +everything was to be upon a frank and open basis. + +He went out at once to see Hilmer. His wife answered the door as she +had done previously and he sat in the same seat he had occupied the +night before. He had a sense of intrusion--he felt that he was being +tolerated. Helen had removed the bandage from her wrist and she looked +very handsome in the half-light of a screened electric bulb. He +noticed that flowers had been placed in one of the vases on the +mantelshelf and that the mandarin skirt clung a trifle less precisely +to the polished surface of the oak piano. A magazine sprawled face +downward on the floor. Already the impress of Mrs. Hilmer on the +surroundings was becoming a trifle blurred. + +He came at once to the point--he had a business proposition to make to +Hilmer and he wished to see him. + +But Helen was not to be excluded from the secret of his mission that +easily. The doctor had denied anybody access to Hilmer; therefore, +unless it was very urgent... + +"I want to see about a partnership arrangement," Fred explained, +finally. + +Helen stirred in her seat. "You mean that you want him to go in with +us?... What's the reason? He's satisfied." + +Fred drew himself up. "But I'm not!" he answered, decidedly. + +She shrugged. "We've had one experience...we'd better think twice +before we make another break." + +"_I've_ thought it all over," he replied, pointedly. + +She colored and flashed a sharp glance at him. "I spoke to him about +the premiums this morning... He tells me he ordered them paid." "Yes +... direct to the companies... That's one of the reasons that made me +decide to get things on a better working basis... I'm tired of being +an object of charity." + +She smiled coldly. Well, Hilmer simply wouldn't receive anyone now, +and she herself didn't see the reason for haste. He ended by telling +her the reason ... there was no other way out of the situation. + +"Oh," she drawled, when he had finished, "so getting rid of Brauer was +_too_ easy, after all!" She made no other comment, but he read her +scornful glance. "Any fool would have guessed that!" was what it +implied. + +Still, even with the fact of Brauer's craftiness exposed, she could +not be persuaded that the proposition was quite that urgent. + +"You don't?" he inquired, with growing irritation. "Well, you've +forgotten that check for some six hundred-odd dollars I wrote for +Brauer the other day... I presume you know it's a felony to give out +checks when there aren't sufficient funds on deposit." + +She stared at him. "That's absurd!" she exclaimed. "Brauer wouldn't go +that far!" + +He quite agreed there, but he didn't say so. Instead, he insisted that +anything was possible. They argued the matter scornfully. In the end +he won. + +"Well, I'll try," she announced, coldly. "I'll do my best... But I'm +sure he won't see you." + +She left the room with an indefinable air of boredom. He rose from his +seat and began to pace up and down. The whole situation had a +suggestion of unreality. In pleading with Helen for a chance to talk +to Hilmer he had a sense of crossing swords with some intangible and +sinister shadow; his wife seemed suddenly to have arrived at a state +toward which she had been traveling all these last uncertain weeks ... +fading, fading from the frame of his existence. Was he growing +hypersensitive or merely unreasonable? + +Fifteen minutes passed ... a half hour...an hour. Starratt stopped his +restless movements and picked up the sprawling magazine... Presently +Helen came into the room. He rose. + +Her thin-lipped smile shaped itself with a tolerant geniality as she +came toward him with complacent triumph. + +"Well," she began, easily, "I got a thousand dollars out of him." + +He went up close to her. "A thousand... I don't quite understand." + +She flourished a check in his face. "Oh, he can sign checks with his +left hand," she threw back, gayly. + +"You mean you've spoken to him about the partnership and..." + +"Of course not ... he wasn't in any humor for that." + +"Well, then, what is this check for?" + +She drew back a little. "Why, it's to help you out, of course. Don't +you want it?" + +He felt himself grow suddenly cold as he stood and watched her recoil +momentarily from his two-edged glance. "No!" he retorted. + +She continued to back away from him. He followed her retreat. + +"I don't think you quite get me, Helen," he heard himself say, with +icy sharpness. "I wanted to see Hilmer _myself! I had a business +proposition to put up to him. I want co-operation--not questionable +charity!" + +She flung back her head, but her voice lacked defiance as she said: + +"Was that meant as an insult?" + +"No," he returned, quietly, "as a warning." + +She stood silent, facing him with that clear, disarming gaze that she +knew how to achieve so perfectly. He felt a great yearning overwhelm +him ... a desire to meet her halfway ... a vagrant displeasure at his +ill-natured irritation. + +"How is Mrs. Hilmer?" he asked, suddenly, as he reached for his hat. + +She shrugged. "There isn't any change," she replied, almost inaudibly. + +"Shall I bring you anything from the apartment?" + +"No... I'll go myself this afternoon and get some things together... I +need a little air, anyway." She followed him to the door. "Then I +understand you don't want this?" she inquired, indicating the check in +her hand. + +His only answer was an incredulous stare. + +"What excuse shall I make him?" + +He put on his hat. The flame of his displeasure had cooled, but he was +still inflexible. "None, so far as I am concerned." + +A retort died on her lips. He could see that she was puzzled. + +"Well, so long," he ventured. + +She drew herself up with the swift movement of one parrying a blow. + +"So long!" she echoed, and the door closed sharply. + +He went down the steps. There was an air of finality in his retreat... +At the office he found a note from Brauer. + +Your check has been returned to me... I shall put it through the bank +again to-morrow. + +He crumpled the sheet of paper and dropped it into the waste basket. +How much would Brauer dare? he wondered. + +That night the friend who had first warned him against Kendrick met +him on California Street. + +"I see my prophecy came true, Fred," he hazarded. "Why didn't you tell +me that Brauer was your partner?... By the way, I saw Kendrick and him +going to lunch together to-day. What's the idea?" + +Fred lifted his eyebrows and laughed a toneless reply. What _was_ the +idea? He wished he knew. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The next day passed in complete inaction. Frankly, Starratt did not +know what move to make. He felt that he should have been trying to +square matters, but to raise offhand six hundred-odd dollars was a +feat too impossible to even attempt. He had few relations, and these +few were remote and penniless, and his friends were equally lacking in +financial resource. He was confident that he could convince Hilmer of +the soundness of his new plan once he achieved an interview. But all +his pride rose up to combat the suggestion that he present himself +before Helen and plead for an audience. Once he had an impulse to go +to the president of the bank and ask for an advance at the proper rate +of interest. He knew scores of cases where banks loaned money on +personality; he had heard many a bank official express himself to the +effect that a poor man with a vision and integrity was a better chance +any day than a millionaire lacking a goal or scruples. But in the end +he was swung from any initiative by a passive desire to even his score +with Brauer. After all, it was diverting to wait for his ex-partner's +next move. Brauer had had no compunctions in tricking him. Why, then, +should he worry? No, it would be fun just to let Brauer stew in a +sample of his own Teutonic duplicity. + +He felt a relief at Helen's absence from the office. He had never +wanted her there and he was determined not to have her back. Last +night she had entirely misread the reason back of his desire for an +interview with Hilmer, and he had been moved to a nasty rancor. But +now he felt tolerant, rather than displeased. Women were often like +that, a bit unethical regarding money. In wheedling a check out of +Hilmer she had used the easiest weapons a woman possessed. She had +meant well, Fred concluded, using that time-worn excuse which has +served nearly every questionable act since the world began. And in the +final analysis, he really blamed himself. Such humiliation was usually +the price a man paid when he let the women of his household share in +the financial responsibility. He should have hoed his own row and +wiped the sweat of his labors upon his own coat sleeve. Well, Hilmer +would be about in a few days and meanwhile Brauer would have some +uncomfortable hours. In the end, no doubt, after Brauer had collected +his six hundred dollars, he would go into a partnership with Kendrick. +That explained the mystery of these two linen-collared crooks lunching +together... After all, there was an element of humor in the whole +situation. + +On Saturday morning Starratt overslept and he did not get down to the +office until nearly ten o'clock. He was picking up the mail that had +been dropped through the door when the janitor came close to him. Fred +gave a sharp glance and the man said: + +"There's been a guy waiting around since eight o'clock, watching your +door... I think he must have a paper or something to serve on you... +Matter of fact, he looked like a fly cop to me... I asked him what he +wanted and he just smiled..." + +Fred laughed a careless rejoinder and the janitor went down the hall, +brushing the marble dado with his bedraggled feather duster. + +Fred Starratt closed the door softly and sat down at his desk, trying +to concentrate on his mail. He felt a sudden chill. But he managed, +after a fashion, to fix his mind upon immediate problems. Twice during +the morning he made a move toward leaving to do some soliciting, but +almost at once he invented an excuse which dissuaded him. + +When he went out to lunch he passed a man loitering in the hall. A +crowded elevator shot past. Fred decided to walk down the stairs ... +the man followed at a nonchalant and discreet distance. Starratt +lingered in the marble-flanked doorway... The man crossed the street +and stood on the corner. + +Fred decided to lunch at Hjul's. During the short walk to his +destination he dismissed everything from his mind except the +anticipation of food. He discovered he was very hungry and it struck +him that he had forgotten to breakfast. He had come away from the +house with the idea of getting a cup of coffee in a waffle kitchen on +Kearny Street and his preoccupation had routed this vague plan. He was +chuckling over his lapse when he swung into Hjul's and took a seat +near the window. He ordered a hot roast-beef sandwich and coffee as he +shared his joke with the waitress. She brushed some crumbs from the +table with a napkin, laughed, and went scampering for the order. +Fred's eyes followed her retreat and fell sharply upon the line of men +drifting in the narrow entrance. At the tag end loomed the figure of +the man who had followed him down the stairs from his office. Fred +picked up a newspaper. The man sat down at a table in a far corner. +Over the edge of the newspaper Fred stole a furtive glance. The man +was of slippery slenderness, with a rather round, expressionless face. +His eyes were beady and shifting, and his lips thin and pale and +cruel. The waitress came tripping back with Starratt's order. Fred +fell to. + +Presently Fred finished. He rose deliberately, taking time to brush +every crumb from his lap. At the door he reached for a whisk broom and +wielded it conspicuously. He could not have said whether bravado or +contempt was moving him to such flamboyant dawdling. Or was he merely +trying to persuade himself that he had nothing to fear in any case? He +stepped out into a shower of noonday sunshine flooding through a rift +in the high fog of a July morning in San Francisco. A delicious thrill +from open spaces communicated itself to him. No, he would not go back +to the office--it was Saturday, anyway, and, besides, he felt a vague +desire for freedom and the tang of wind-clean air. He would ride out +to Golden Gate Park and stroll leisurely through its length to the +ocean... He walked briskly down Montgomery Street to Market, waited a +few seconds at a safety station, and finally swung on a car... He was +standing before a tiny lake at the Haight Street entrance to the Park, +watching a black swan ruffling its feathers, when he felt a presence +near him. He did not lift his eyes for some moments, but when he did +look up it was to see his shifty friend of the morning pretending to +be amused at a group of noisy sparrows quarreling over a windfall of +crumbs... Fred Starratt moved on. + +All afternoon Fred Starratt wandered about--sometimes dawdling +defiantly, sometimes dropping into a brisk pace, but at every turn his +new-found shadow followed at an inconspicuous distance. The afternoon +sun was gracious, tinged with a pleasant coolness, and far to the west +a blue-gray fog bank waited for evening to let down the day's warm +barriers. Fred Starratt's thoughts were abrupt and purposeless, like +the unsustained flights of wing-clipped birds. He knew that he was +being followed, and he had a confused sense of something impending, +and yet he was unable or unwilling to face the issue honestly. There +were moments when he glimpsed the truth, but he seemed unmoved by +these truant realizations. Was he too tired to care? He used to +wonder, when he read in the newspapers of some man overtaken by an +overwhelming disgrace, how it was possible to go on living under such +circumstances. Was his indifference of this afternoon the preliminary +move in a long series of heartbreaking compromises and retreats? he +asked himself. But he did not attempt to answer any of these darting +questions. After all, the sun was shining and about him the world +seemed to be swinging on with disarming normality. Upon the trimmed +lawns peacocks strutted and shrieked and from remoter distances the +soft call of the quail echoed caressingly. It was good to be alive, +with one's feet firmly planted on the earth. To be alive and _free_! + +He passed the conservatory and the sunken gardens, flamboyant with +purple-and-gold pansies; he dawdled over the aviary and the bear +cages. He even stopped for tea at the Japanese garden, throwing bits +of sweetened rice-flour cakes to the goldfishes in their +chocolate-colored pond near the tea pavilion. He found himself later +skirting Stow Lake, pursued by flocks of ubiquitous coots, bent upon +any stray crumbs flung in their direction. Finally he dipped suddenly +down into the wilder reaches of the Park, taking aimless trails that +wandered off into sandy wastes or fetched up quite suddenly upon the +trimly bordered main driveway. He always had preferred the untamed +stretches that lay beyond Stow Lake. Here, as a young boy, he had +organized scouting parties when it was still a remote, almost an +unforested sand pile. Later, when the trees had conquered its +bleakness, Helen and he had spent many a Saturday afternoon tramping +briskly through the pines to the ocean. How long ago that seemed, and +yet how very near! Not long in point of time, somehow, but long in +point of accessibility. He seemed to be standing, as it were, upon the +threshold of a past that he could glimpse, but not re-enter. Even +Helen seemed remote--a part of the background that had been, instead +of an equal spectator with him in a review of these dead events. + +It was nearly five o'clock when he drew near the first wind-stunted +pine trees heralding the ocean. He quickened his step. Already the +breeze was tearing across the unscreened spaces and carrying damp +wisps of fog with it. As he found his steps swinging into the ocean +highway he turned and looked back. His discreet pursuer had +disappeared. There was not a soul in sight! + +His heart gave a sudden leap. He hurried forward. A street car was +rounding the terminal loop on its return to town. He clattered aboard. +He felt suddenly free and light hearted, almost gay. What would he do +now? Look up Helen at Hilmer's and persuade her to dine with him +somewhere downtown?... He remembered that he had not even telephoned +her for two days. The conviction that had settled upon him during his +walk through the Park woods descended again. Helen seemed impersonal +and unapproachable... He felt a desire for noise and conviviality and +laughter. He decided to look in at the St. Francis bar and see if he +could chance upon a hilarious friend or two. + +Starratt had overlooked the fact of war-time prohibition when he +picked the St. Francis bar as a place of genial fellowship. The memory +of its old-time six-o'clock gayety was still fresh enough to trick +him. He swung into its screened entrance to find it practically +deserted. The old bustle and hoarse conversation and hearty laughter +were replaced by dreary silence. The provocative rattle of ice in the +highball glass, the appetizing smell of baked ham from the free-lunch +counter, the thick, pungent clouds of tobacco smoke--all had been +routed by chill, hypocritical virtue. One or two of the tables were +surrounded by solemn circles of males getting speedily drunk in an +effort to finish up the melancholy remains filched from some private +stock, but their attempts at light-heartedness were very sad and +maudlin. Fred was moving away when he heard his name called. He turned +to find a group of business associates from California Street sitting +before two bottles of Scotch, which were ministering to their rather +dour conviviality. Starratt started to wave a mingled greeting and +farewell when his raised hand fell heavily against his side--in the +polished depths of the bar's flawless mirror loomed the unwelcome +figure that had pursued him all day!... He went over and joined his +friends. + +He had one drink ... two ... another. Then he lost count ... but the +supply seemed inexhaustible. A sudden rush of high spirits keyed him +tensely. He talked and laughed and waved his arms about, calling upon +everybody to witness his light-heartedness. Through the confused blur +of faces surrounding him he caught an occasional glimpse of the thin, +cruel lips and the shifting, beady eyes of his pursuer sitting over a +flat drink which he left untouched. + +Presently somebody in the party suggested a round of the bohemian +joints. The motion was noisily seconded... Fred staggered to his feet. +They began with the uptown tenderloin, drifting in due time through +the Greek cafes on Third Street. Finally they crossed Market Street +and began to chatter into the tawdry dance halls of upper Kearny. +Everywhere the drinks flowed in covert streams, growing viler and more +nauseous as the pilgrimage advanced. Near Jackson Street they came +upon a bedraggled pavilion of dubious gayety which lured them +downstairs with its ear-splitting jazz orchestra. A horde of rapacious +females descended upon them like starving locusts. Suddenly everybody +in the party seemed moved with a desire for dancing--except Fred. +While the others whirled away he sank into a seat, staring vacantly +ahead. He had reached the extreme point of his drunkenness and he was +pulling toward sobriety again... He came out of his tentative stupor +with the realization that a woman was seating herself opposite him. + +"What's your name?" he demanded, thickly. + +"Ginger," she replied. + +He took a sharper look. A pale, somewhat freckled face, topped by a +glory of fading red hair, thrust itself rather wistfully forward for +his inspection. + +"Go 'way!" he waved, disconsolately. "Go 'way. I don't wanna dance!" + +She smiled with the passive resistance of her kind. "Neither do I," +she assented. "Let's just sit here and talk." + +"Don't wanna talk!" he threw back, sullenly. + +"All right," she agreed; "anything you say... Got a cigarette?" + +He drew out a box and she selected one. The waiter hovered about +significantly. Fred ordered coffee ... Ginger took Whiterock. They +were silent. The music crashed and banged and whinnied, and the air +grew thick with the mingled odors of smoke and stale drinks and sex. + +Finally Fred leaned forward and said in a whisper, "Tell me--has a +snaky-looking dub come into this joint?" + +Ginger swept the room with her glance. "In a gray derby and a green +tie?" + +"Yes." + +"He's over in the corner--talking to a couple of fly cops." + +He reached for a cigarette himself. His voice was becoming steadier. +"What do you think his game is?" + +She pursed her lips. "Oh, I guess he's a private detective," she +appraised, shrewdly. "He isn't quite heavy enough for a real bull." + +He struck a match. "He's been following me all day," he admitted. + +"Somebody's keeping tab, eh?... Is friend wife on the trail?" + +He laughed tonelessly and cast the match aside. The sharp little face +opposite was quickening with interest. + +"No ... I let a bad check get out... _You_ know--no funds." + +"Whew!" escaped her. "That isn't pretty!" + +"You're damned right it isn't!" he echoed, emphatically. + +She clutched at his wrist. "Say, the whole three are coming this +way... I guess they've got a warrant... Don't fight back, whatever you +do!" + +Her words sobered him. She was right--three men were coming toward his +table. He rose with a flourish of dignity. + +"Looking for me?" he asked. + +"If your name is Starratt, we are," one of the men said, moving up +closely. + +"What's the idea?" + +The spokesman of the group flashed his star. "You're wanted on a +bad-check charge." + +Fred reached for his hat. "All right... Let's get out quietly." + +His brain was perfectly clear, but he staggered a trifle as he +followed the men along the edge of the dancing space to the stairway. +The music crashed furiously. Fred's associates were giving all their +attention to treading the uncertain steps of their tawdry bacchanal, +so they missed his exit. + +Halfway up the stair leading to the sidewalk Fred was halted by a +touch upon his arm. He had forgotten Ginger, but there she stood with +that childish, almost wistful, look on her face. + +"Say," she demanded, "can I do anything? I've got a pull if I want to +use it." + +The other three men turned about and waited. The snaky one laughed. +Fred looked at her curiously. + +"You might phone my wife," he returned. "But don't say anything to the +boys!" + +"Where does she live?... I'll go now and see her. That is--if--" + +For a moment Fred Starratt hesitated. Would it be quite the thing to +let a woman like this... But as quickly a sense of his ingratitude +swept him. Whether it was the thing or not, it was impossible to wound +the one person who stood so ready to serve him. A great compassion +seemed suddenly to flood him--for a moment he forgot his own plight. + +"I don't remember the number of the house ... she's with friends. +You'll find the name in the telephone book... Hilmer--Fourteenth +Avenue. Ask for Mrs. Starratt." + +"Axel Hilmer ... the man who--" + +"He's a shipbuilder. Do you know him?" + +She smiled wanly. "Yes ... I know lots of people." + +Fred felt his arm jerked roughly, and the next thing he found himself +half flung, half dragged toward the curb. Instinctively he shook +himself free. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded. + +The ringleader of the group reached forward and grabbed him roughly. + +"D'yer think we've got all night to stand around here while you turn +on sob stuff with a dance-hall tart? You shut up and come with us!" + +"I'm coming as quickly as I can," Starratt retorted. + +He was answered by a hard-fisted blow in the pit of the stomach. He +doubled up with a gasping groan. A crowd began to gather. Presently he +recovered his breath. The blow had completely sobered and calmed him. +He felt that he could face anything now. The jail was just across the +street, so they walked, pursued by a knot of curious idlers. + +They went through a narrow passageway, separating the Hall of Justice +from the jails, and rang a bell for the elevator. In stepping into the +cage Fred Starratt tripped and lurched forward. He was rewarded by a +stinging slap upon the face. He drew himself up, clenching his fists. +He had often wondered how it felt to be seized with a desire to shoot +a man down in cold blood. Now he knew. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The men at the booking desk treated Fred Starratt with a rough +courtesy. They did not make the required search of his person unduly +humiliating, and, when they were through, one of the men said, not +unkindly: + +"We can ring for a messenger if you want to send word to your folks; +... it's against the rules to telephone." + +"I've notified them," Fred returned, crisply. It was curious to +discover that he had no doubts concerning Ginger's delivery of his +message. + +"Is there a chance for you to get bailed out to-night?" the same man +inquired. + +Fred hesitated. "There may be," he said, finally. + +They put him in a temporary cell with three others--two white men and +a Chinese, who had been arrested for smuggling opium. The floor was of +thick boards sloping toward the center, and in a corner was a +washbasin. There were no seats. One of the white men was pacing up and +down with the aimless ferocity of an animal freshly caged. At Fred's +entrance the younger and quieter of these two looked up and said, +eagerly: + +"Got a smoke?" + +Fred drew out a box of cigarettes and tossed it to him. The other +white man came forward; even the Chinese was moved to interest. + +Fred saw the box passed from one to the other. There did not seem to +be any color line drawn about this transient solace. Fred took a smoke +himself. + +"What are you up for?" the younger man inquired. + +Fred experienced a shock. "Oh ... you see ... I just got caught in a +jam. It will come out all right." + +It sounded ridiculous--this feeble attempt at pride, and Fred +regretted it, once it escaped him. But his questioner was not put out +of countenance. + +"Well, if you've got a pull, it's easy; otherwise--" He finished with +a shrug and went on smoking. + +Fred looked at him intently. He was a lad not much over twenty, with +thick black hair and very deep-blue eyes and an indefinable quality +which made his rather irregular features seem much more delicate than +they really were. + +"What's _your_ trouble?" Fred asked, suddenly. + +The boy grinned. "I rolled a guy for twenty dollars in Portsmouth +Square... He was drunk, at that," he finished, as if in justification. + +At this moment the door of the cell was opened. The three white men +started forward expectantly. But it was the Chinese who was wanted. A +group of his countrymen had come to bail him out. + +The man who had been silent suddenly spoke to the policeman as he was +closing the door again. + +"You might as well lock me up proper for the night," he flung out, +bitterly. "I guess they're not coming to get me now." + +The policeman led him away, in the wake of the disappearing Chinese. +The youth turned to Starratt with a chuckle: + +"The old boy's kinda peeved, ain't he? Well, he'll get over that after +a while... The first time they jugged me I thought--" + +"Then you've been up before?" + +"Before?... Say, do I look like a dead one? This isn't a bad habit +after you get used to it... So far I've only made the county jails. +Some day I suppose I'll graduate... But I'm pretty wise--vagrancy is +about all they've ever pinned on me." + +Fred looked at his new friend curiously. There didn't seem to be +anything particularly vicious about the youth. He merely had learned +how to get his hands on easy money and jails were an incident in his +career. Without being asked, he described his first tilt with the law. +He had come, a youth of seventeen, from a country town up North. He +had run away from home, to be exact; there was a stepmother or some +equally ancient and honorable excuse. He had arrived in San Francisco +in January without money or friends or any great moral equipment, and +after a week of purposeless bumming he had been picked up by a +policeman and charged with vagrancy. The obliging judge who heard his +case gave him twenty-four hours to leave town. He went, in company +with a professional tramp, upon the brake beams of a freight train +that pulled out for Stockton that very night. But at Stockton the +train was overhauled by policemen in wait for just these unwelcome +strangers from a rival town, and the two were told to go back promptly +where they came from. They got into San Francisco more dead than +alive, and then the inevitable happened. They were haled before the +selfsame judge who had given the youth such an amazing chance to get +started right. He treated them both to thirty days in the county jail, +and the youth emerged a wiser but by no means a sadder man. He had +learned, among other things, that if one were to be jailed one might +just as well be jailed for cause. The charge of vagrancy was very +inclusive, and a man could skirt very near the edge of felony and +still manage to achieve a nominal punishment. He told all this simply, +naturally, naively--as if he were entertaining an acquaintance with a +drawing-room anecdote. When he finished, Fred inquired: + +"And how about bail to-night?" + +The youth shrugged. "Well, I dunno. I sent word to a girl who--" + +At that moment the attendant appeared again. He had come after the +youth--evidently the girl had proved herself. + +"So long," the boy said to Fred, as he went through the door. "If +you've got a dame stuck on you there's always a chance." + +Fred went over and leaned against the washbasin. His companions had +been diverting. In their company he had ceased to think very +definitely about his own plight. Now he was alone. He wondered what +Helen would do... He put his hand to his cheek--it was still smarting +from the blow that had waked his primitive hatred... + +He was standing in this same position before the washbasin, smoking +furiously, when the attendant came for him. + +"It's past midnight," the man said. "I guess your folks ain't coming." + +Fred stirred. "No, I guess not," he echoed, with resignation. + +The officer took his arm. "Well, we'll have to get fixed up for the +night," he announced. + +Fred threw his cigarette butt on the floor and stepped on it. + + * * * * * + +The next morning at eleven o'clock Fred Starratt heard his name bawled +through the corridors and he was led out to the room where prisoners +were allowed to receive their lawyers or converse with relatives and +friends through the barred and screened opening. + +A man was exchanging tearful confidences with his wife and baby as he +clung to the bars. The woman was sending a brave smile across, but the +wire mesh between gave her face the same unreality that a gauze drop +in a play gives to the figures on the other side. A strange man was +ushered in. + +"Mr. Starratt?" he inquired. + +Fred inclined his head. + +"My name is Watson--from the firm of Kimball & Devine. We're attorneys +for Mr. Hilmer. He asked me to run in and see you this morning. Just +what _did_ happen?" + +Fred recited the events briefly. When he had finished, the attorney +said: + +"Everything depends on this man Brauer. I'll have to get in touch with +him to-day. Hilmer told me to use my own judgment about bail... I +guess it's all right." + +A hot flush overspread Fred's face, but it died quickly. He could +stand any insult now. All night he had been brooding on that slap upon +the cheek. A clenched fist had an element of fairness in it, but the +bare palm was always the mark of a petty tyrant. It was thus that a +woman struck ... or a piddling official ... or a mob bent on +humiliation. They smote Christ in the same way--_with their hands_. He +remembered the phrase perfectly and the circumstance that had +impressed it so indelibly on his mind. His people had seen to it that +he had attended Sabbath school, but he was well past ten before they +had taken him to church. And, out of the hazy impression of the first +sermon he had fidgeted through, he remembered the picture of Christ +which the good man in the pulpit had drawn, sitting in a mockery of +purple, receiving the open-palmed blows of cowards. In his extremity +the story recurred with sharp insistence and all night he had been +haunted by this thorn-crowned remembrance. + +Hilmer's messenger was waiting for him to speak. He gave a shrug. + +"It really doesn't matter," he said. + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Starratt," Watson broke in, reprovingly. "That +isn't any way to talk. You've got to keep your spirits up. Things +might be worse. It's lucky you've got a friend like Hilmer. He's a man +that can do things for you, if anyone can." + +Fred smiled wanly. "I don't suppose you saw my wife, by any chance," +he ventured. + +"No... Fact is, she's in bed... Hilmer said the news completely bowled +her over... That's another reason you've got to buck up--for _her_ +sake, you know!" + +It ended in Watson putting up the bail money and their departing in a +yellow taxicab for an obscure hotel in Ellis Street. + +"This is the best arrangement, under the circumstances," Watson +explained. "You'll want to be quiet and lie low." + +Fred assented indifferently. He was very tired and all he longed for +was a chance to sleep. + +In less than fifteen minutes after his release Fred Starratt found +himself alone in the narrow impersonal room where Hilmer's emissary +had installed him. He did not wait to undress--he threw himself upon +the bed and slept until midnight. + + * * * * * + +He awoke startled and unrefreshed. A newsboy just under his window was +calling the morning papers with monotonous stridency. Fred jumped to +his feet and peered out. People drifted by on the homeward stretch in +little pattering groups--actors, chorus girls, waiters, and melancholy +bartenders. The usual night wind had died ... it had grown warmer. He +turned toward his bed again. The walls of the room seemed suddenly to +contract. He had a desire to get out into the open... He freshened up +and felt better. + +He did not wait for the elevator, but walked down the dim stairway to +the narrow hotel lobby, flooded by a white, searching light. For a +moment he stood in curious confusion at the foot of the stairs that +had so suddenly spewed him from half-light to glare, his eyes blinking +aimlessly. At that moment he saw a familiar figure rising from one of +the morris chairs near the plate-glass window. He stared--it was the +private detective who had hounded him all day Saturday. Slowly he +retraced his steps and found his way back to his room again... No +doubt Brauer, fearful lest his victim would escape before he arranged +the proper warrants for arrest, had been responsible for this man's +presence in the first instance, but who was hiring him now?... +Hilmer?... Well, why not? Surely a man who risked bail money was +justified in seeing that the object of his charity kept faith... Fred +Starratt sat down and laughed unpleasantly. What a contempt everybody +must have for him! What a contempt he had for himself! He threw +himself sprawling his full length upon the rumpled bed. But this time +it was not to sleep. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and puffed +cigarette after cigarette until morning flooded the room... At eight +o'clock he phoned down to have his breakfast sent up. + + * * * * * + +Toward noon Watson came in. "I saw Brauer yesterday and again this +morning... What did you do to make him so sore?" + +Fred shrugged. "I guess I took a superior air... A man who plays up +his honesty is always nasty... I meant well--most fools do!" + +Watson stared uncomprehendingly. "The best thing I can get this man +Brauer to agree to is a compromise... He's eager for his pound of +flesh." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He wants to punish you ... even the score some way... After I saw him +yesterday I went out and talked to Hilmer... We outlined a plan that +Brauer is willing to accept. Hilmer has a pull, you know ... and if +the scheme goes through there'll be no trial, no notoriety, nothing +disagreeable... We'll make it plain to the authorities that you gave +out this check when you were drunk. Habitual intemperance ... that's +to be our plea... It means a few months for you at the state's Home +for Inebriates ... a bit of a rest, really... I'd say you were +extremely lucky." + +Fred was beyond so futile an emotion as anger. Somehow he was not even +surprised, but he had energy enough left for sarcasm. He looked +squarely at Watson as he said: + +"Why not tell the truth? If any judge is willing to convict me on my +intentions I'll go to jail gladly. It seems to me that it ought to be +easy enough to prove that I gave that check to Brauer with every +prospect in the world that I could cover it. He tricked me, really." + +"Yes, but how can you prove it?" + +"Why, there's my wife. She heard every bit of the--" + +"My dear man, you're not going to drag _her_ into this mess, I hope. +What we're trying to do is to hush this thing up, so that in due time +you can come back and take your place in society again without +scandal." + +"How are you going to stop Brauer's tongue?" + +"Oh, we'll see that he keeps his counsel... Hilmer will throw him a +sop... He's going in with this man Kendrick, you know." + +Fred rose and went over to the washbasin and drew himself a drink. +Finally he spoke. "It's a damned lie--the whole thing. That is enough +to queer it with me. I'm not a common drunkard, and you know it." + +"You were drunk when they arrested you." + +"Well ... yes." + +"And that's what gives us such a good chance... Now look here, +Starratt, you can take a tip from me or leave it, just as you see fit. +A trial for a charge such as you're up against is a damned nasty +business. You get publicity that you never live down. And just now +there's a big sentiment developing against letting people off easily +once the thing is made public. The judges are soaking people hard... +You might get off, and then again you _might not_. Would you like to +put your wife in the position of having a convict for a husband? ... +Think it over." + +Fred sat down. He was not beaten yet. After all, what did Helen think +about this arrangement? Had they spoken to her? Some of her methods in +the past had not been to his taste, but they were the best means to an +end that she knew. And she always had been loyal. Ah yes, in a scratch +women did rise to the occasion! For an instant he remembered the +parting comment of his cell companion of Saturday night: + +"If you've got a dame stuck on you there's always a chance." + +He turned to Watson with a smile of triumph. + +"I'll leave the thing to Mrs. Starratt," he said, confidently. "I +think I can depend upon her to stand by me, whatever happens..." + +Watson reached into his inner coat pocket. + +"I've a note from her here," he said, handing Starratt a square +envelope. + +Fred broke the seal and unfolded the contents deliberately. He read +very slowly... When he had finished he read it through again. He sat +for some moments on the edge of the bed, tapping his lips with a +tentative finger. Finally he rose. + +"Well, Mr. Watson," he said, bitterly, "I said I'd stand by Mrs. +Starratt's decision. And I'm a man of my word." + +Watson rose also. "You won't regret this, I'm sure," he ventured, +heartily. "Meanwhile I'll get busy pulling wires at once. It won't do +to let this thing get cold. I'll go right out and see Hilmer now... +Any message you'd like to give your wife?" + +Fred looked at the man before him searchingly. "No ... none!" + +Watson bowed himself out... Fred Starratt put both hands to his +temples. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The days that followed passed in a blur. Fred Starratt went through +the motions of living, but they were only motions. Between the +intervals of legal adjustments, court examinations, and formal red +tape he would lie upon his narrow bed at the hotel reading his wife's +message--that sharp-edged message which had shorn him of his +strength--as if to dull further his blunted sensibilities. In all this +time he saw only Watson. He did not ask for Hilmer or Helen. But one +day the attorney said to him: + +"Your wife is still ill, otherwise--" "Yes, yes ... of course," Fred +assented, dismissing the subject with an impatient shrug. + +Finally, on a certain afternoon at about two o'clock, Watson came in +quite unexpectedly. + +"I think by to-night everything will be settled. ... What can I do for +you? ... Perhaps you would like to go to your apartment and get some +things together... Or see a friend... Just say the word." Fred roused +himself. A fleeting rebellion flickered and died. He wanted nothing +... least of all to so much as see his former dwelling place. He made +only one request. + +"If you're passing that dance hall where they arrested me--you know, +near Jackson Street--drop in and ask for a girl called Ginger. I'd +like to see her." + +Watson smiled widely... + +The girl Ginger came that very afternoon. She was dressed very quietly +in black, with only a faint trace of make-up on her cheeks. Almost +anyone would have mistaken her for a drab little shopgirl. Fred felt +awkward in her presence. + +"I'm going away to-night--for some time," he said, when she had seated +herself. "And I wanted to thank you for your interest when--" + +She shook her head. "That wasn't anything," she answered. + +He wondered what next to say. It was she who spoke finally. + +"I suppose you got out of your mess all right," she half queried. + +He opened his cigarette case and offered her a smoke. She declined. + +"Well, not altogether... My friend Hilmer worked a compromise... I'm +going to a place to sober up." He laughed bitterly. + +She folded her hands. "One of those private sanitariums, I suppose, +where rich guys bluff it out until everything blows over." + +"No, you're wrong again... I'm going summering in a state hospital." + +Her hands, suddenly unclasped, lifted and fell in startled flight. "An +insane asylum?" she gasped. He leaned forward. "Why do you say that?" + +"Because it's the only place in this state where they send drunks... I +know plenty who've been through that game... You can't tell me +anything about that." + +He stared at her in silence and presently she said: + +"What are they doing to you, anyway? Railroading you? I don't believe +you know where you _are_ going." + +He shrugged wearily. "No; you're right. And I don't much care." + +"Why didn't you send for me?" she demanded. "That night when they got +you I told you I had a pull... I'm not a Hilmer, but I can work a few +people myself... I haven't always been a cheap skate. There was a time +when I had them fighting over me. And that wasn't so long ago, +either... I'm still young--younger than a lot that get by. But, +anyway, I've got a lot of old-memory stuff up my sleeve that can make +some people step about pretty lively... There's more than one man in +this town who would just as soon I kept my mouth shut... I could even +run Hilmer around the ring once or twice if I wanted to." + +He felt a bit tremulous, but he put a tight rein upon his emotions. + +"It's very good of you," he said, "but, really, I couldn't quite have +that, you know... I don't mean to be ungrateful or unkind, but there +are some things that--" + +She laughed. "Oh yes, I know... You feel that way now, of course... +You're a gentleman; I understand that... And I haven't run up against +many gentlemen in my day... Oh, there were a lot who had plenty of +money and they were polite enough when it didn't matter ... but ... +Well, I know the real thing when I see it... You're going to that hell +hole, too, just for that very reason... Because you haven't got the +face to be nasty..." + +He crumpled the unlighted cigarette in his hand and flung it from him. + +"What do you know about me?" he asked. + +"Women aren't fools!" she retorted. "And least of all women like me! +... I wish to God I'd known you sooner!" + +He watched the quivering revelations run in startled flight across her +face, hiding themselves as swiftly behind the dull shadows of +indifference. For a moment the room seemed flooded in a truant flash +of sunshine. She seemed at once incredibly old and as incredibly +touched with a vagrant youth. How eagerly she must have given herself! +How eagerly she could give herself again! + +He rose in his seat, confused. She seemed to have taken it for a sign +of dismissal, for she followed his example. + +"Maybe it isn't too late," she faltered. "Maybe I could work that pull +I've got ... if you want me to." + +He shook his head. "It's out of my hands," he answered. She moved to +the door, as if to place a proper distance between them. + +"What does your wife think about it?" + +He shrugged. + +"You won't like what I'm going to say," she flung out, defiantly. "But +that night when I saw your wife _I_ knew." + +"Knew what?" + +"That she wasn't playing fair..." Her face was lighted with a +primitive malevolence. "She isn't straight!" + +He tried to pull himself up in prideful refutation, but the effort +failed. He was turning away defeated when a knock sounded on the door. +Watson entered. Ginger drew herself flatly against the wall. The +attorney gave a significant glance in her direction as he said to +Starratt: + +"Your wife is waiting in the hall ... just around the corner. I +thought it best to ..." + +Ginger came forward quickly. "Good-by!" she said, hurriedly. + +He put out a hand to her. She moved a little nearer and, suddenly, +quite suddenly, she kissed him. He drew back a little, and presently +she was gone... + +He looked up to find Helen standing before him. She was a little pale +and her lips more scarlet than ever, and her thick, black eyebrows +sharply defined. He had never seen her look so disagreeably handsome. + +"That woman who just went out," she began, coolly, "she's the same one +who--" + +"Yes," he interrupted, crisply. + +"Who is she?" + +He looked at her steadily; she did not flinch. "A friend of mine." + +Her lip curled disdainfully. "Oh!" she said, and she sat down. + + * * * * * + +Toward evening they came for him, or rather Watson did, with a +taxicab. + +"Everything has gone nicely," Watson explained, pridefully. "You +certainly were lucky in having Hilmer for a friend ... no humiliation, +no publicity." + +Fred, standing before the bureau mirror, brushed his hair. "Where are +you taking me now?" he inquired. + +"To the detention hospital... You'll stay there a week or so for +observation... It's a mere form." + +"And from there?" + +"To the state hospital at Fairview." + +Fred Starratt flung down the brush. "Why don't you call it by its +right name? ... I'm told it's an insane asylum." + +Watson stared and then came forward with a little threatening gesture. +"You better not start any rough-house, Starratt--at the eleventh +hour!" he admonished, with a significant warmth. + +Fred turned slowly, breaking into a laugh. "Rough-house?" he echoed. +"Don't be afraid. ... I've got to the curious stage now. I want to see +the whole picture." He reached for his hat. "I'm ready ... let's go." + +A half hour later Fred Starratt was booked at the detention hospital. +They took away his clothes and gave him a towel and a nightgown and +led him to a bathroom... Presently he was shown to his cell-like room. +Overhead the fading day filtered in ghostly fashion through a +skylight; an iron bed stood against the wall. There was not another +stick of furniture in sight. + +He crawled into his bed and the attendant left him, switching on an +electric light from the outside. A nurse with supper followed +shortly--a bowl of thin soup and two slices of dry bread. Fred +Starratt lifted the bowl to his lips and drank a few mouthfuls. The +stuff was without flavor, but it quenched his burning thirst... After +a while he broke the bread into small bits--not only because he was +hungry, but because he was determined to eat this bitter meal to the +last crumb. When he had finished he felt mysteriously sealed to +indifference. + +The nurse came in for the tray and he asked her to switch off the +light. He lay for hours, open-eyed, in the gloom, while wraithlike +memories materialized and vanished as mysteriously. Somehow the +incidents of his life nearest in point of time seemed the remotest. +Only his youth lay within easy reach, and his childhood nearest of +all. He was traveling back ... back ... perhaps in the end + + oblivion would wrap him in its healing mantle and he would + wait to be made perfect and whole again in the flaming + crucible of a new birth... Gradually the mists of + remembrance faded, lost their outline ... became confused, + and he slept. + +He awoke with a shiver. A piercing scream was curdling the silence. +From the other side of the thin partition came shrieks, curses, mad +laughter. He heard the heavy tramp of attendants in the hallway ... +doors quickly opened and slammed shut. ... There followed the sounds +of scuffling, the reeling impact of several bodies against the wall +... then blows of shuddering softness, one last shriek ... dead +silence! + +He sat up in bed--alive and quivering. Was this the rebirth that the +swooning hours had held in store for him? ... Quickly life came +flooding back. Indifference fell from him. In one blinding flash his +new condition was revealed. His life had been a futile compromise. He +had sowed passivity and he had reaped a barren harvest of negative +virtues. He would compromise again, and he would be passive again, and +he would bow his neck to authority ... but from this moment on he +would wither the cold fruits of such enforced planting in a steadily +rising flame of understanding. He knew now the meaning of the word +"revelation." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +They kept Fred Starratt in bed for two weeks, and one morning when the +sun was flooding through the skylight with soul-warming radiance they +brought him his clothes and he knew that the prologue to the drama of +his humiliation was over. He crawled to his feet and looked down upon +his body wasted by days of enforced idleness and fasting. He dropped +back upon the bed, exhausted. The sun, striking him squarely, +gradually flamed him with feeble energy. He straightened himself and +dressed slowly. + +When he had finished the sun still poured its golden shower into the +room. He rose to his feet and lifted his chilled hands high to receive +its blessing. He felt the blood tingle through his transparent +fingers. + +In the next room he heard the tramping of feet and a feeble curse or +two. He dropped his hands and sat down again. The nurse came in with +his breakfast. + +"The man next door?" he asked. "Is he leaving to-day, too?" + +"Yes." + +"Where does he go?" + +"To Fairview." + +A memory of that first night with its piercing terror sent a shiver +through him. + +"They brought him in the same day I came," he ventured, half musingly. +"At the beginning he made a lot of noise, but lately..." + +She set the tray down upon the bed. "They had to put him in a +strait-jacket," she said, significantly. "He's quite hopeless. He +tried to kill his wife and his child ... and he set fire to the home. +He's an Italian." + +"Yes ... so I was told." + +The nurse departed and he drank the cup of muddy coffee on the tray. +He laid the cup down and sat staring at the square cut in the center +of the thick oak door leading into the corridor. Presently he heard +the swish of a woman's skirt passing the opening, followed by the +pattering footsteps of childhood. There came the sound of soft weeping +... the swishing skirt passed again, and the pattering footsteps died +away. The nurse returned. + +"The Italian's wife and child have just been here," she said. "They +let the woman look for the last time at her husband through the hole +in the door." + +Fred put his head between his hands. "He tried to murder her and yet +she came to see him," he muttered, almost inaudibly. "I dare say he +abused her in his day, too." + +The woman gave him a sharp glance. "You're married, aren't you?" + +He looked up suddenly, reading the inference in her question. "Yes ... +but my wife won't come..." + +The nurse left the room and he put his face in his hands again. The +sun was traveling swiftly. He shifted his position so that he could +get the full benefit of its warmth. He thought that he had banished +the memory of Helen Starratt forever, but he found his mind +re-creating that final scene with her in all its relentless +bitterness... She had come that day to salve her conscience ... to pay +her tithe to form and respectability ... perhaps moved to fleeting +pity. He had seen through every word, every gesture, every glance. Her +transparency was loathsome. Why did he read her so perfectly now? Was +it because she felt herself too secure for further veilings, or had +his eyes been suddenly opened? + +She was not flaming nor reckless nor consumed utterly; instead, there +was a complacent coolness about her, as if passion had drawn every +warmth within her for its own consummation. She had still her +instincts in the leash of calculation, going through the motions of +conventionality. The lifted eyebrows and curling lip which she had +directed at Ginger's departing figure were not inconsistent. +Dissimulation was such an art with her that it was unconscious. + +He had asked her only one question: + +"And how is Mrs. Hilmer?" + +Even now he shuddered at the completeness with which her words +betrayed her. + +"There is no change ... we are simply waiting." + +He had turned away from this crowning disclosure. _Waiting_? No wonder +she could veil her desire in such disarming patience! He had intended +asking her plans. Now it was unnecessary. And he had thought at once +of that last night when he had called at Hilmer's, remembering the +sprawling magazine on the floor, the bowl of wanton flowers upon the +mantelshelf, the debonairly flung mandarin skirt clinging to the +piano--these had been the first marks of conquest. + +As she was leaving she had said, "I shall see you again, of course." + +In spite of its inconsistency he had sensed a certain habitual +tenderness in her voice, as if custom were demanding its due. And, for +a moment, the old bond between them touched him with its false warmth. +But a swift revulsion swept him. + +"Why bother?" he had thrown back at her. + +"You mean you don't want me to come?" + +"Yes, just that!" + +He had taken her breath away, perhaps even wounded her, momentarily, +but she had recovered herself quickly. Her smile had been full of the +smug satisfaction of one who has washed his hands in public +self-justification. + +She had left soon after that passage at arms, achieving the grace to +dispense with the empty formality of either a kiss or a farewell +embrace... He remembered how he had flung up the window as if to clear +the room of her poisonous presence... + +To-day, sitting upon his narrow bed, instinctively following the patch +of yellow sunlight as it gilded the gloom, he felt that the maniac +next door had the better part. Of what use was reason when it ceased +to function except in terms of withering unbelief? + +He sat motionless for hours, waiting patiently for them to come and +release him to sharper sorrows. He had a passive eagerness to taste +bitterness to the lees... When he heard the door open finally he did +not rise. He kept his face buried. A light footstep came nearer and he +was conscious of the pressure of icy fingers upon his hands. He looked +up. Ginger stood before him. + +"I brought you some smokes," she said, simply, "but they wouldn't let +me bring them in." + +He tried to speak, but suddenly great sobs shook him. + +She put her fingers in his hair, drawing him to his feet, and +presently he felt her own tears splashing his cheek. + +He was smiling when they finally came for him. But he felt weaker than +ever, and as they walked out into the glare of the street he was glad +to lean upon Ginger's arm. The sheriff's van was drawn up to the curb. +Two deputies helped him in. He turned for a last look at Ginger. Her +pale little face was twisted, but she waved a gay farewell. In a far +corner of the lumbering machine Fred could see two catlike eyes +glimmering. Slowly his gaze penetrated the gloom, and the figure of a +battered man shaped itself, his two hands strapped to his sides. The +deputies got in, the door was shut sharply, and the van shot forward. + +In less than fifteen minutes they had reached the ferry. + +The train was late, and it was long after nine o'clock when it pulled +into the Fairview station. The day had been hot, and the breath of +evening was bringing out grateful and cooling odors from the sunburnt +stubble of the hillside as Fred Starratt and his keeper stepped upon +the station platform. The insane Italian followed between two guards. +An automobile swung toward them. They got in and rode through the +thickening gloom for about three miles... Presently one of the +deputies leaned toward Fred, pointing a finger in the direction of a +cluster of lights, as he said: + +"There's your future home, old man. Keep a stiff upper lip. You'll +need all your grit." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Fred Starratt rested surprisingly well that first night. But two weeks +in the detention hospital had taken the sting out of institutional +preliminaries. The officials at Fairview put him through precisely the +same paces, except upon a somewhat larger scale. There was the +selfsame questioning, the same yielding up of personal effects, the +same inevitable bath. And almost the same solitary room, except that +this one peered out upon the free world through a heavily barred +window instead of through a skylight, and boasted a kitchen chair. He +was to be alone then!... He thanked God for this solitude and slept. + +He awoke at six o'clock to the clipped shriek of a whistle. Shortly +after, a key turned in his door. There followed the sound of scores of +bare feet pattering up and down the hall. Was it imagination or did +these muffled footfalls have an inhuman softness?... Suddenly his door +flew open. He shrank beneath the bedclothes, peering out with one +unscreened eye. + +A knot of gesticulating and innocent madmen were gazing at him with +all the simplicity of children. After a few moments, their curiosity +satisfied, they pattered on their ghostly way again. + +This, he afterward learned, was the daily morning inspection of +newcomers. + +Presently the whistle blew again and a bell sounded through the +corridors. A rush of answering feet swept past; a great silence fell. + +A half hour later a monstrous man with glittering eyes and clawlike +fingers came in, carrying breakfast--a large dishpan filled with a +slimy mush, two slices of dry bread, and a mound of greasy hash. Fred +turned away with a movement of supreme disgust. The gigantic attendant +laughed. + +There came a call of, "All outside!" echoing through the halls; a rush +of feet again, a hushed succeeding silence. The half-mad ogre went to +the window and slyly beckoned Fred to follow. He crawled out of bed +and took his place before the iron bars. The man pointed a skinny +finger; Fred's gaze followed. He found himself looking down upon a +stone-paved yard filled with loathsome human wreckage--gibbering +cripples, drooling monsters, vacant-eyed corpses with only the motions +of life. Some had their hands strapped to their sides, others were +almost naked. They sang, shouted, and laughed, prayed or were silent, +according to their mental infirmities. It was an inferno all the more +horrible because of its reality, a relentless nightmare from which +there was no awakening. + +Fred heard the man at his side chuckling ferociously. + +His tormentor was laughing with insane cruelty. "The bull pen! Ha, ha, +ha!" + +Fred made his way back to his bed. Midway he stopped. + +"Does everybody ..." he began to stammer--"does everybody ... or only +those who ..." + +He broke off in despair. What could this mad giant tell him? But +almost before the thought had escaped him his companion read his +thought with uncanny precision. + +"You think I don't know!" the man said, tapping his head +significantly. "But everybody ... they all ask me the same question. +Yes ... you'll take your turn, my friend. Don't be afraid. They'll +give you the air in the bull pen, all right! Ha, ha, ha!" And with +that he picked up the dishpan of untasted breakfast and hurried from +the room. + +Fred Starratt sank down upon the bed. His temples were throbbing and +his body wet with an icy sweat. + + * * * * * + +He was roused by a vigorous but not ungentle tap upon the shoulder. He +stumbled to his feet, shaking himself into a semblance of courage. But +instead of the malevolent giant of the breakfast hour, a genial man of +imposing bulk stood before him. "My name is Harrison," his visitor +began, kindly; "I'm an assistant to the superintendent... Perhaps +you'd like to tell me something about yourself?" + +Fred drew back a trifle. "Must I?..." + +Harrison smiled as he seated himself in the chair. + +"No ... but they usually do ... after the first night... It helps, +sometimes, to talk." + +"I am afraid there's nothing to tell... I'm here, and I'll make the +best of it..." + +Fred wiped the clammy sweat from his forehead with a gesture of +despair. + +Harrison leaned forward. "Don't you feel well?" he inquired. + +"It's nothing... I looked out into the yard this morning... I dare say +one gets used to it--but for the moment... You have other yards, I +suppose... That is, I sha'n't have to take the air there ... shall I +... in the bull pen?" + +"It's usual ... for the first day or two. But perhaps in your case--" +Harrison broke off. "However, I can't promise anything... If you'll +come to the office I'll give you back your clothes." + +They went into the office together and Fred received his clothing duly +marked with his name and ward. But his shoes were withheld and in +their place he was given a pair of mismated slippers which proved too +large. Harrison handed him two rag strips with which he tied them on. +Looking down at the shapeless, flapping footgear, Fred Starratt felt +his humiliation to be complete. He walked slowly back to his room. + +The noise from the bull pen was deafening. He went to the window and +steeled himself against the sight below... At first he shuddered, but +gradually his hands became clenched, in answer to a rising +determination. Why should he flinch from anything God himself could +look upon?... He was still standing by the window when the gong for +the midday meal sounded. The bull pen had long since been deserted +and, with the foreground swept clean of its human excrescence, his +purposeless gaze had wandered instinctively toward the promise of the +forest-green hills in the distance. + +He heard the familiar rush of feet toward the dining room and he was +vaguely conscious that some one had halted before his door. He turned +about. A young man, not over twenty-five, with a delicately chiseled +face, was stepping into the room. As he drew closer Fred received the +wistful impression of changing-blue eyes and a skin clear to the point +of transparency. Fred met his visitor halfway. + +"You came last night, didn't you?" the youth began, offering a shy +hand. "I saw you this morning. I was in the crowd that looked you over +just before breakfast... What are you here for?" + +Fred lifted his hand and let it fall again. "I made a mess of +things... And you?" + +"Booze," the other replied, laconically. "I've been in three times... +Let's go down to lunch." He slipped a friendly arm into Fred's and +together they walked with the rushing throng into the dining room. + +It was a small room, everything considered, with tables built around +the four walls and one large table in the center that seated about +twenty-five people. Starratt and his new-found friend discovered two +vacant seats upon the rude bench in front of the center table and sat +down. They were each given a plate upon which was a potato and a small +piece of cold beef and the inevitable hunk of dry bread. A large +pitcher of tea stood within reach. There was neither milk nor sugar +nor butter in evidence. A tablespoon and a tin cup were next handed +them. Fred felt a sudden nausea. He closed his eyes for a moment, and +when he looked up his plate had been swept clean of food. + +"You've got to watch sharp," the youth was saying. "They steal +everything in sight if you let them... Here, have some of mine." + +Fred made a gesture of refusal. "It doesn't matter," he explained. +"I'm not hungry." + +"You'd better eat something... Have some hot tea!" + +It was a black, hair-raising brew, but Fred managed to force down a +draught of it. About him on all sides men were tearing their meat with +clawlike hands, digging their fangs into it in wolfish ferocity... A +dishpan of rice was circulated. Fred took a few spoonfuls. Within +fifteen minutes the meal was over and the dishpan, emptied of its +rice, was passed again. Fred saw his companions flinging their spoons +into it. He did likewise. + +The youth arose. "Let's get out of this and have a smoke... I've got +the makings." + +A great surge of relief swept over Fred. A smoke! Somehow, he had +forgotten that such a solace existed in this new world of terror and +pain. + +It appeared that the only place indoors where smoking was permitted +was the lavatory, but when they reached the corridor they found a line +forming ready to march out to take the air. They decided to wait and +have their smoke in the open. Fred and his companion exchanged names. +The youth was Felix Monet. + +"I'm not sure whether you go out with us," Monet admitted, as they +swung into place. "This crowd is bound for the front parade ground. +It's not usual for newcomers to have that privilege." + +Fred made no reply. The line of men shuffled forward. + +"We go downstairs first for our shoes," the youth finished. + +Presently they found themselves upon the ground floor, in a small room +where an attendant distributed shoes and hats. It appeared that Fred's +shoes were there, duly labeled. The man in charge made no objection to +yielding them up. + +"You must have a pull," Monet remarked, as Fred sat down upon a stool +to draw on his shoes. + +Fred shook his head in silence. Evidently the assistant superintendent +had said a word for him. ... He was not to be put to the torture of +the bull pen, then! + +Outside, the air was warm and the sunlight dazzling. Fred felt a surge +of red-blooded life sweep him as his quivering nostrils drank in the +pungent odors from the midsummer foliage. Waves of heat floated +wraithlike from the yellow stubble, bathing the distant hills in an +arid-blue haze. At convenient intervals clumps of dark-green trees +threw contrasting patches of shade upon the tawny, sun-bleached sod. +But Fred ignored their cool invitation. He always had hated hot +weather with all his coast-bred soul, but to-day a hunger for warmth +possessed him completely. + +Monet and he took a broad path which circled for about a quarter of a +mile about the grounds. As they progressed, several joined them. Fred +was introduced to each in turn, but he responded listlessly. Almost at +once the newcomers hurled questions at him... Why was he there? ... +How long was he in for? ... What did he think were the chances of +escape? Inevitably, every conversation turned upon this last absorbing +topic. These men seemed eager for confidences, they wanted to share +their experiences, their grievances, their hopes. But Fred Starratt +recoiled. He had not yet reached the stage when a thin trickle of +words fell gratefully upon his ears. He had no desire to either hear +or speak. All he craved was the healing silence of open spaces. But he +was soon to learn that this new life held no such soul-cleansing +solace. Gradually he fell a bit apart from his chattering comrades. + +They passed an ill-kept croquet ground and some patches of garden +where those who were so disposed could raise vegetables or flowers. +There was something pathetic about the figures bending with childlike +faith over their labor of love--attempting to make nature smile upon +them. Without the vision of the bull pen Fred Starratt would have +found much that afternoon that was revolting. But one glimpse into the +horrible inferno of the morning had made him less sensitive to milder +impressions. + +After a while Monet detached himself from the rest of the walking +throng and fell back with Starratt. He seemed to have an instinctive +gift for sensing moods, and Fred was grateful for his silence. + +They were passing by a two-story concrete building in the Colonial +style when Monet touched Fred's arm. + +"That's the famous Ward Six," Monet explained, softly. "You'll get +there finally if you work it right... It's not heaven ... but +alongside the other wards it comes pretty near being." + +They turned about shortly after this and began to retrace their steps. +Presently a man came in sight, pulling a cardboard box mounted upon +four spools. + +"An inventor," Monet said, as Fred threw out a questioning glance. "He +has an idea that he's perfected a wonderful automobile... You'll get +used to them after a while." + +A little farther on they met a haughty-looking Japanese coming toward +them. Monet plucked at Fred's sleeve. "Better step to one side," he +cautioned; "that fellow thinks he is the Emperor of Japan!" + +Fred did as he was bidden and the Japanese swept past gloomily. + +"Well, at least he's happy, in his own way!" Monet commented, with a +tinge of irony. + +Soon after that another man passed, weeping bitterly. + +"They call him the Weeping Willow," Monet explained. "He weeps because +he can find no one who will kill him." + +Fred shuddered. + +By this time they had reached their starting point. Fred felt suddenly +tired. "Let's rest a bit under the trees," he proposed. + +Monet assented, and the two threw themselves into the first shade. +Fred closed his eyes. He had a sense that he was dreaming--that all +the scenes that he had witnessed these many days were unreal. +Presently he would wake up to the old familiar ring of his alarm +clock, and gradually all the outlines of his bedroom would shape +themselves to his recovered senses... There would stand Helen by her +dressing table, stooping down to the mirror's level as she popped her +thick braids under her pink boudoir cap... In a few minutes the first +whiffs of coffee would come floating in from the kitchenette. Then he +would crawl slowly out from the warm bedclothes and stretch himself +comfortably and give a sudden dash for the bathroom and his cold +plunge. There would follow breakfast and the walk over the hill down +to the office of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. in a mist-golden morning. And +he would hear again the exchange of greetings, and find himself +replying to the inevitable question: + +"Well, what's new?" + +With the equally inevitable answer: + +"Not a thing in the world!" + +Some one was shaking him. He gave a quick gasp that ended in a groan +as he opened his eyes. Monet was bending over him. + +"You've been asleep," his companion said. "Come, it's time to go in... +The bell for supper has rung... And you were dreaming, too ... I knew +that because you smiled!" + +Fred Starratt grasped Monet's hand fervently. + +"It was good of you to keep watch," he murmured. + +Monet answered with a warm pressure. And at that moment something deep +and indefinable passed between them ... a silent covenant too precious +for words. + +Fred Starratt rose to his feet. + +"Let us go in!" he said. + + * * * * * + +At supper Fred Starratt nibbled at some dry bread and drank another +strong draught of tea. But he had to force himself to even this scant +compromise with expediency. There followed smoking in the lavatory and +at seven o'clock the call to turn in. Fred scurried confidently to his +cell-like room ... he was quite ready for solitude. + +An attendant was moving about. "You sleep in the first dormitory +to-night," he explained to Fred. "It's at the end of the hall." + +Fred turned away in fresh despair. + +Before the door of the first dormitory a number of men were +undressing. Monet was in the group and a newspaper man named Clancy +that Fred had met that afternoon. Fred stood a moment in indecision. + +"You'll have to strip out here," Monet said, in a matter-of-fact tone. +"Just leave your clothes in a pile close against the wall." + +Fred obeyed. The rest of the company regarded him with sinister +curiosity. Except for Monet and Clancy all seemed obviously insane. +One by one they filed into the room. Fred followed. Twelve spotlessly +clean cots gleamed in the twilight. + +The twelve men crawled into bed; the door was shut with a bang. Fred +heard a key turn... They were locked in! + +The ghostly day faded and night settled in. Fitful snorings and groans +and incoherent mutterings broke the stillness. At intervals a man near +the door would jump to his feet, proclaiming the end of the world. +Sometimes his paroxysm was brief, but again he would keep up his +leaping and solemn chanting until he fell to the floor in sheer +exhaustion... Gradually even he became quiet, and nothing was audible +except heavy breathing and the sound of the watchman in the corridor +as he passed by regularly, flashing his light into the room through +the slits in the door. + +Fred Starratt did not close his eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The first week passed in an inferno of idleness. Fred Starratt grew to +envy even the wretches who were permitted to carry swill to the pigs. +There once had been a time in his life when ambition had pricked him +with a desire for affluent ease... He had been grounded in the +religious conviction that work had been wished upon a defenseless +humanity as a curse. He still remembered his Sabbath-school stories, +particularly the scornful text with which the Lord had banished those +two erring souls from Eden. Henceforth they were to work! To earn +their bread by the sweat of their brows! He had a feeling now that +either God had been tricked into granting a boon or else the scowl +which had accompanied the tirade had been the scowl that a genial +Father threw at his children merely for the sake of seeming +impressive. At heart the good Lord must have had only admiration for +these two souls who refused to be beguiled by all the slothful ease of +Eden, preferring to take their chances in a world of their own +making... And he began to question, too, either the beauty or +contentment of the heaven which offered the vacuous delights of +idleness. It seemed, perhaps, that the theologians had mixed their +revelations, and that the paradise they offered so glibly was really a +sinister hell in disguise. + +After the first day the sights which had sent shudders through him +gradually began to assume the inevitability of custom. Even the vision +of the Weeping Willow, sorrowing at death withheld, failed to shake +him. The third night he slept undisturbed in the lap of frenzy and +madness. There was something at once pathetic and sublime in his +adaptability to the broken suits of fortune. He was learning what +every man learns sooner or later--to play the hand that is dealt, even +in the face of a losing game. + +Deep within him he found two opposing currents struggling for +mastery--one an overwhelming tide of disillusionment, the other a +faith in things hitherto withheld. Against the uncloaked figures of +Helen Starratt and Hilmer loomed Ginger and Monet. Did life always +yield compensations, if one had the wit to discern them? In the still +watches of the night, when some fleeting sound had waked him, he used +to think of Ginger as he had thought when a child of some intangible +and remote vision that he could sense, but not define. Would he ever +see her again? Suddenly, one night, he realized that he did not even +know her name... And Monet, who slept so quietly upon the cot next to +him--what would he have done without his companionship? He used to +raise himself on his elbow at times and look in the ghostly light of +morning at Monet's face, white and immobile, the thin and shapely lips +parted ever so slightly, and marvel at the bland and childlike faith +that was the basis of this almost breathless and inaudible sleep. Fred +had made friendships in his life, warm, hand-clasping, +shoulder-thumping friendships, but they had been of gradual unfolding. +Never before had anyone walked full-grown into his affections. + +On the third afternoon, sitting in the thick shade of a gracious tree, +Monet had told Fred something of his story. He was of mixed +breed--French and Italian, with a bit of Irish that had made him +blue-eyed, and traces of English and some Dutch. A brood of races that +were forever at war within him. And he had been a musician in the +bargain, and this in the face of an implacable father who dealt in +hides and tallow. There had been all the weakness and flaming and +_naïveté_ of a potential artist ground under the heel of a relentless +sire. His mother was long since dead. The father had attempted to +force the stream of desire from music to business. He had succeeded, +after a fashion, but the youth had learned to escape from the dull +pain of his slavery into a rosy and wine-red Eden. ... Three times he +had been sent to Fairview "to kick the nonsense out of him!" to use +his father's words. He was not embittered nor overwhelmed, but he was +passive, stubbornly passive, as if he had all a lifetime to cross +words with Monet, senior. It was inevitable that he would win in the +end. He was a child ... he always would be one ... and childhood might +be cowed, but it was never really conquered. He was gentle, too, like +a child, and sensitive. Yet the horrors which surrounded him seemed to +leave him untroubled. It could not be that he was insensible to +ugliness, but he rose above it on the wings of some inner beauty... +Once Fred Starratt would have felt some of the father's scorn for +Felix Monet--the patronizing scorn most men bring to an estimate of +the incomprehensible. What could one expect of a fiddler? Yes, he +would have felt something worse than scorn--he would have been moved +to tolerance. + +The only other man in Ward 1 who was sane was Clancy, the newspaper +reporter. But in the afternoons the knot of rational inmates from the +famous Ward 6 herded together and exchanged griefs. Fred Starratt sat +and listened, but he felt apart. Somehow, most of the stories did not +ring quite true. He never had realized before how eager human beings +were to deny all blame. To hear them one would fancy that the busy +world had paused merely to single them out as targets for misfortune. +And the more he listened to their doleful whines the more he turned +the searching light of inquiry upon his own case. In the end, there +was something beyond reserve and arrogance in the reply he would make +to their direct inquiries: + +"What brought me here? ... Myself!" + +But his attitude singled him out for distrust. He was incomprehensible +to these burden shifters, these men who had been trained to cast their +load upon the nearest object and, failing everything else, upon the +Lord... They were all either drug users or victims of drink. And, to a +man, they were furiously in favor of prohibition with all the strength +of their weak, dog-in-the-manger souls. Like every human being, they +hated what they abused. They wanted to play the game of life with +failure eliminated, and the god that they fashioned was a venerable +old man who had the skill to worst them, but who genially let them +walk away with victory. + +As Fred Starratt listened day after day to their chatter he withdrew +more and more from any mental contact with them. And yet there were +times when he felt a longing to pour out his grief into the ears of +understanding... He knew that Monet was waiting for his story, but +pride still held him in its grip... After all, there was a ridiculous +side to his plight. When a man permitted himself to be blindfolded he +could not quarrel at being pushed and shoved and buffeted... How +absurd he must have seemed to Watson on that day when he had announced +so dramatically: + +"I said I'd stand by Mrs. Starratt's decision. And I'm a man of my +word!" + +How much a man would endure simply for the sake of making a fine +flourish! He had thought himself heroic at that moment, poor, empty +fool that he was, when he really had been the victim of cowardice. A +brave man would have cried: + +"I said I'd stand by Mrs. Starratt's decision, but I'm not quite an +idiot!" + +One other topic flamed these poor souls, seeking to kindle a warmth of +sympathy for their failures. When the lamentations ceased, they talked +of flight. Fred Starratt sat mentally apart and listened. Everybody +had a plan. They discussed prospects, previous attempts, chances for +failure. Fred learned, among other things, that the search for escaped +nationals did not extend much beyond the environs of Fairview. If a +man from Ward 6 made a good get-away he held his freedom, unless his +kinsfolk constituted themselves a pack of moral bloodhounds. He +realized now that there was nothing as relentless as family pride. It +was not so much the alcoholic excess that was resented, but the fact +that it led to unkept linen and dirty finger nails and, by the same +token, to neighborhood scorn. Concern for a man's soul did not send +him to Fairview... But was anybody really concerned for a man's soul? +... Why should they be? ... He ended by quarreling only with the +pretense. + +Escape! Escape! To get back to the world that they were forever +reviling! Like men in the grip of some wanton mistress who could bring +them neither happiness nor heroics, either in her company or away from +her. Take Fordham, for instance, a lean, purple-faced clerk, who had +been sent up for the third time by his wife after two sensational +escapes. He hadn't disturbed her, looked her up, gone near her, in +fact. But he had laid up alongside an amber-filled bottle in a moldy +wine shop somewhere near the Barbary coast. Yes, he had achieved it +even in the face of prohibition. And she had got wind of it. Folks had +seen him, red-eyed and greasy-coated and bilious-hued, emerging from +his haunt in some harsh noon that set him blinking, like a startled +owl. Well, she couldn't quite have that, you know! She couldn't have +her husband making a spectacle of himself, sinking lower and lower in +the hell of his own choosing. No! Far better to pick out a hell for +him ... a hell removed discreetly from the gaze of the scornful. ... +And there was Wainright, who, like Monet, had a father. He had married +a Runway Girl of the Bearcat Follies ... the sort that patters down +from the stage to imprint carmine kisses and embarrassment upon the +shining pate of the first old rounder that has an aisle seat. Well, +father could not have that, either. He was impatient with the whole +performance. Indeed, a less impatient man would have waited and +watched Wainright, junior, wind himself in the net which his own hands +had set. Instead, he went to the trouble of digging a pit for his son +which hastened the inevitable, but did not cure the folly... Wainright +had escaped, too, quite casually, one fine spring day when he had been +sent out to the barn to help milk the cows. The Runway Girl, in need +of publicity, had telegraphed the details to her press agent, +following receipt of her husband's letter telling of his exploit. A +Runway Girl whose husband-lover broke jail, so to speak, for her, had +professional assets that could not be gainsaid. + +And so the story was flashed on the front page of every newspaper in +the country, with the result that father dug another pit. + +And so tale succeeded tale. Fred grew to accept most of them with +large dashes of salt. Not that he doubted the broader strokes with +which the effects were achieved, but he mistrusted that many of the +finer shadings had been discreetly painted out. He was learning that +there was nothing so essentially untruthful as a studied veracity... +Had not he tricked himself with just such carefully heightened +details? What he had mistaken for a background of solid truth had +proved nothing but pasteboard scenery flooded with a semblance of +reality achieved by skillful manipulation of spotlights. He had been +satisfied with the illusion because he had wished for nothing better. +And at this moment he was more desolate than any in this sad company, +because he seemed the only one who had lost the art of escaping into a +world of lies. He had no more spotlights to manipulate. He sat in a +gloomy playhouse and he heard only confused voices coming from the +stage. He was not even sorry for himself. Whether he was sorry for +others he could not yet determine. + +One afternoon at the close of the first week, as he was walking back +to Ward 1 with Monet, following one of these inevitable experience +meetings, he turned to the youth and said: + +"You have been here three times now. Have _you_ never thought of +escape?" + +Monet shrugged. "Yes ... in a way. But I'm no great hand at doing +things alone." + +They walked on in silence. Finally Fred spoke. + +"Suppose you and I try it sometime? ... It will give us something to +think about... But we'll go slow. It will just be a game, you +understand." + +Monet's eyes lit up and his breath came quickly between his parted +lips. "You're splendid to me!" he cried. "But the others--you seem to +hate them. Why?" + +Fred kicked a fallen branch out of his path. "They whine too much!" he +muttered. + +The boy was right, he _did_ hate them! + +At the office he found that a package had come for him in the mail, +and a letter. Both had been opened by the authorities. He read the +letter first. It was from Helen. She had heard that cigarettes were a +great solace to men in his situation, and so she had sent him a large +carton of them. She expressed the hope that everything was going well, +and she filled the rest of her letter with gossip of the Hilmers. Mrs. +Hilmer was a little better and she was wheeling her out on fine days +just in front of the house. The nurse had gone and she was doing +everything. But these people had been so good to her! What else was +there left to do? She ended with a restrained dignity. She offered +neither sympathy nor reproaches. Fred had to concede that it was a +master stroke of implied martyrdom. He flung the letter into the +nearest wastebasket. He had an impulse to do the same thing with the +cigarettes, but the thought of Monet's pleasure in them restrained +him. He took the package to the dormitory. Monet had gone up before +him. + +Fred threw his burden on Monet's bed. The youth gave a low whistle of +delight. + +"Pall Malls!" he cried, incredulously. "Where did you get them?" + +"They came from my wife." + +"Oh! ... Don't you want any of them?" + +"No." + +At the smoking hour Fred saw Monet take out his pitiful little bag of +cheap tobacco and roll the usual cigarette. + +"What? ... Aren't you smoking Pall Malls?" he asked, with a shade of +banter in his voice. + +Monet shook his head. "I don't want them, either... What shall we do? +Give them to the others?" + +Fred stared through a sudden mist. "Why--yes. Just whatever you like." + +That night, when everyone else was asleep, Fred Starratt told Felix +Monet his story... + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +One morning, at the beginning of the second week of Fred Starratt's +stay at Fairview, as he and Monet were swinging back to lunch after a +brisk walk, they received orders to fall in line with the inmates of +Ward 6. + +"Things will be better now," Monet said, with his usual air of quiet +reassurance. + +And so it proved. + +Fred's first introduction was to the dining room. It was not an +extraordinary place, and yet Fred gave a little gasp as he entered it +and stood staring almost foolishly at the tables set with clean linen. +Three of its sides were made up almost entirely of windows, before +which the shades were drawn to shut out the hot noonday sun, and its +floor of polished hardwood glistened even in the subdued light. They +sat down in the first seats that came to hand, and it was not until +some cold meat was passed that Fred discovered a knife and fork at his +place. The meat was neither choice nor dainty, but somehow just the +fact of this knife and fork gave it extraordinary zest. Later on, +small pats of butter were circulated and a spoonful of sugar apiece +for the tea. And once again he listened to people talk while they ate +... heard a subdued, but sane, laugh or two... There was a smoking +room also, not overlarge, but adequate. + +The inmates of Ward 6, from whom Fred had stood aloof, welcomed him +warmly. He was at a loss to know why until Monet explained. + +"It's the cigarettes." + +"Ah, then you distributed them here? I thought they went to the other +poor devils." + +The youth turned a wistful glance toward him. "I knew you'd get over +to this place finally ... and I wanted them to like you..." + +Fred fell silent over the implied rebuke. + +The dormitories were large and light and airy and scrupulously clean, +but the usual institutional chill pervaded everything... Yet, for a +season, Fred Starratt found all discrimination smothered in his +reaction to normal sights and sounds. But, after a day or two, the +same human adaptability that had made him accept the life in Ward 1 as +a matter of course rose to the new environment and occasion. Presently +his critical faculty flooded back again--almost for the first time +since his arrest. And he knew instinctively that he was standing again +on surer ground. He began to wonder, for instance, just what the +commonwealth was doing for these human derelicts which it shed such +facile tears over... He knew, of course, what it had done in his case. +It had given him three indifferent meals, vaccinated him, put him +through a few stereotyped quizzes to assure itself that he was neither +insane nor criminal, and finally moved him on to a less trying but an +equally vacuous existence. He used to wonder just what tortures the +others had endured during that week of probation in Ward 1, which, in +nearly every case, so far as he could learn, included the experience +of the bull pen. For, after all, these other men were physically +shaken from excess--weak, spent, tremulous. He had been through mental +tortures, but, at least, his body and soul had had some fitness for +the strain upon him. How close did the winds of madness come to +snapping clean these empty reeds ... how many were broken utterly? He +asked Monet. + +"Lots of them go under," Felix Monet had returned. "I think I came +very near it myself... I remember that first night I spent alone in +Ward One... I'd been three weeks without a drop of anything to drink. +Cut off, suddenly, like that!" He made a swift gesture. "And all at +once I found myself in a madhouse. I actually knocked my head against +the wall that night... And, in the morning, came the bull pen... They +knew I wasn't insane. My record--everything--proved that! ... When I +protested, their excuse was that everyone was equal here ... there +were no favorites. ... More lies in the name of equality! The thing +doesn't exist--it never has existed. Nothing is equal, and trying to +make it so produces hell. They're always trying to level ... level. +They want to strip you of everything but your flock mind. Ah yes, +timid sheep make easy herding!" + +For the first time Fred Starratt saw Monet quivering with unleashed +conviction, and he glimpsed the hidden turbulence of spirit which +churned under the placid surface. + +"After a while," Monet went on, "when I got almost to the snapping +point, they sent me to Ward Six. You know how it is--like a clear, +cold plunge ... it wakes you up... There's a method in it all. They +know that after a week in hell you find even purgatory desirable." + +"And yet, once you got away, you traveled the same road that had +brought you here in the first place... Was the game worth the candle?" + +"It was an escape while it lasted, even though it did lead me to +prison again... But isn't that where escape always leads? The world is +a good deal like Fairview--a rule-ridden institution on a larger +scale... We escape for a time in our work, in our play, in our loves, +but the tether's pretty short. ... And finally, one day, death swings +the door open and we go farther afield." + +"To another institution with a little more garden space?" Fred +queried, pensively. + +Monet shrugged. "Perhaps... Who knows?" + + * * * * * + +There followed another week of idleness, and one day, as Fred Starratt +was dawdling in the sun, Harrison came up to him and said: + +"The head waiter in the dining room at Ward Six goes out to-morrow. +Would you like his job?" + +"Like it?" Fred found himself echoing, incredulously. "Can I begin at +once ... now?" + +Harrison chuckled with rare good nature. "Well, to-morrow, anyway. +Just report in the kitchen after breakfast." + +He could hardly wait for the next morning to come. He bungled things +horribly at first. It looked easy enough from the side lines--bringing +in the plates of steaming food, doling out sugar for the tea, passing +the dishpan about at the end of the meal for the inmates to yield up +their knives and forks. But after the first day Fred was swept with a +healing humility. It was necessary for even the humblest occupation to +be lighted with flickerings of skill. + +He liked setting the table best, especially in the morning after the +breakfast crowd had gone. Then the sun was not yet too hot for comfort +and the long dining room was bathed in a golden mist. In a corner near +one of the windows a canary hopped blithely about its bobbing cage and +released its soul in a flood of song. He would begin by laying the +plates first, inverted, in long, precise rows. Then carefully he would +group the knives and forks about them. Not only carefully, but slowly, +so that the task might not be accomplished too readily. And all the +time his thoughts would be flying back and forth ... back and forth, +like a weaver's shuttle. At first these thoughts would pound harshly; +but gradually, under the spell of his busy hands, he would find his +mental process growing less and less painful, until he would wake up +suddenly and find that he had been day dreaming, escaping for a time +into a heaven of forgetfulness. + +Toward the end of the month a crew was picked among the inmates of +Ward 6 to man a construction camp a few miles to the north where the +state was building a dam. Clancy was among the number, and Fordham and +Wainright, junior. Monet was offered the choice of assisting Fred +Starratt in the dining room or going out with the kitchen staff to +camp. He chose the dining-room job. + +The only personal news from the outside world came to Fred in a weekly +letter from Helen, which arrived every Saturday night. He used to tear +the envelopes open viciously and read every word with cold disdain. He +never thought of answering one ... indeed, many a time he had an +impulse to send them back unopened. But curiosity always got the +better hand. Not that he found her news of such moment, but her +dissimulation fascinated him. She never chided him for not replying +... she never complained ... but every line was flavored with the +self-justification of all essential falseness. She was playing a game +with herself as completely as if she had written the letters and then +scribbled her own name upon the envelope. She was looking forward to +the day when she could say: + +"I did my duty ... I helped start him in business ... I saved him from +jail ... I wrote him a letter every week, in spite of the fact that he +never answered me... What more would you have a woman do?" + +What more, indeed? How completely he read her now! Yes, even between +the lines of her nonchalant gossipings he could glimpse her soul in +all its intricate completeness. Her letters were salt on his deadened +wound. Perhaps that was why he did not return them unopened. He felt +vaguely that it would be a shameful thing to be ultimately sealed to +indifference. + +But one Saturday night two letters were put into his hand. He read the +strange one first. + + I have not written you before because I had no news for you. + Yesterday I passed Hilmer's house and saw your wife wheeling + Mrs. Hilmer up and down the sidewalk. Some day when I get a + chance I shall speak to Mrs. Hilmer. + + I am living in a lodging house on Turk Street. My name is + Sylvia Molineaux. You will find my address below. Write and + tell me what you want. And always remember that I am here + watching. + + GINGER. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Toward the middle of the following week Fred answered Ginger's letter. +But his phrases were guarded and his description of life at the +hospital full of studied distortion. He knew quite well that every +letter which left the institution was opened and censored, but, with +certain plans lying fallow in his brain, he had a method back of the +exaggerated contentment he pictured. He had a feeling that Ginger +would not be misled altogether. She knew the deceitful bravado of life +too well and, according to her own report, something of the existence +he was leading in the bargain. He found himself curiously willing to +take anything from her hand that was in her power to supply. He felt +no sense of awkwardness, no arrogant pride, no irritating obligation. +She had become for him one of the definite, though unexplainable, +facts of existence which he accepted with all the simplicity of a +child of misfortune. + +She answered promptly, sending cigarettes and tobacco and a pipe. But +her letter was devoid of news---except that she had passed Hilmer's +again and found Helen wheeling Mrs. Hilmer back and forth in the +sunshine at the appointed hour. But, as time wore on, it transpired +that this seemingly innocent passing and repassing of the Hilmer house +carried unmistakable point. Presently, to Mrs. Hilmer, basking in the +sun and deserted for a moment, Ginger had nodded a brief good-morning. +There followed other opportunities for even more prolonged greetings +until the moment when Ginger had boldly carried on a short +conversation in the coldly calm presence of Helen Starratt. Helen must +have known Ginger. It was inconceivable that any woman, under the +circumstances, could have forgotten. But either indecision or a veiled +purpose made her assume indifference, and Ginger's progress was +registered in a short sentence at the end of a brief scrawl which +said: + + To-day I took a book out and read to Mrs. Hilmer for an hour + in the sunshine. + +And later another statement forwarded this curious drama with pregnant +swiftness: + + Yesterday, I told Mrs. Hilmer about you. + +Fred read this sentence over and over again. To what purpose did +Ginger discuss him with Mrs. Hilmer? ... Surely not altogether in the +name of entertainment. + +Meanwhile, summer died, hot and palpitant and arid to the end. And +autumn came gently with cool, foggy mornings and days of sunshine +mellowed like old gold. Fred Starratt rose in rapid succession to the +position of pantryman, head waiter to the attendants, assistant +bookkeeper in the office. He was given more and more freedom. Indeed, +between the working intervals, undisturbed by even a formal +surveillance, he and Monet fell to taking walks far afield. He found +the shorter days more tolerable. With dusk coming on rapidly, it was +easier to accept the inflexible rule that required everyone to be in +bed and locked up by seven o'clock. + +New faces made their appearance in Ward 6, old ones vanished. Clancy +made a get-away sometime in September just before the construction +camp broke up. Fordham tried also, but was unsuccessful, and got a +month in the bull pen for his pains. These adventures stirred everyone +to vague restlessness. Fred began to speculate on chances, talking +them over with Monet. But the boy seemed listless and depressed, +without enthusiasm for anything. He brooded a great deal apart. +Finally one day Fred asked him what was troubling him. + +"I miss my music," he said, briefly. + +Fred prodded further. His need was, of course, for a violin. + +"We'll write Ginger," Fred decided at once. + +It had seemed quite a matter of course until he sat down with pen in +hand and then he had a feeling that this last demand was excessive. He +fancied she would achieve it someway, and he was not mistaken. The +violin came and, everything considered, it was not a bad one. Monet's +joy was pathetic. Fred wrote back their thanks. "How did you manage +it?" he asked. + +Her reply was brief and significant: "You forget I know all kinds of +people." + +From the moment the violin arrived Monet was a changed man. Suddenly +he became full of nervous reactions to everything about him. He lost +all his sluggish indifference, he talked of flight now with +fascinating ardor. + +"When shall it be? Let us get out quickly. We can make our way easily +with this!" he would cry, tapping the violin lovingly. "While I play +on street corners you can collect the dimes and nickels." + +Monet had meant to be absurd, of course, but Fred was finding nothing +absurd or impossible these days. The youth's laughing suggestions +flamed him with a sudden yearning for vagabondage. He wanted, himself, +to be up and off. But by this time October was upon them, ushered in +by extraordinary rainfall. The coming rain gave him pause. He used to +look searchingly at Monet's delicate face, and finally one day, in +answer to the oft-repeated question, Fred replied: + +"I think we'll have to stand it until spring... If we want to go east, +over the mountains--this is no time." + +They had often speculated as to a route. Most runaways took the road +toward the coast and achieved capture even in the face of comparative +indifference. The trails to the east led into the heart of the Sierra +Nevada Mountains. With the first breath of autumn these byways, +difficult of achievement in any case, became more and more impassable. +And, while flight toward the west might be successful, it was too +charged with a suggestion of failure to be tempting. + +"We don't just want to _attempt_ to escape," Starratt used to explain. +"We want to _do_ it!" + +"But, spring!" Monet would echo. "That means May at the earliest. The +mountain passes will be impossible even in April. Let's try!" + +"Come, come! Why this sudden restlessness? I thought your music would +be a solace. But it seems to have made you dissatisfied. I can't +understand it." + +"We live by desire! I am happy only when I am burning! When the flame +is out there are only ashes." + +Fred yielded finally to the extent of starting plans. Food was the +first consideration. Monet was still in the dining room at Ward 6. +About the first of November he began hoarding sugar and rice. A hollow +tree in an obscure corner of the grounds back of the barns was the +hiding place. Everyday a little more was added to the store. The +process communicated a feeling of extraordinary interest to them both. +Around this almost trivial circumstance whirled the shadows of +infinite romance. Escape! At last these two men had a goal ... they +were no longer drifting. + +Once a week Fred continued to receive two letters--one from his wife +and one from Ginger. It was curious to compare them--reading an +ironical comedy between the lines ... creating the scenes that were +being enacted by the triangle of women in front of the Hilmer dwelling +every day in the early morning sunshine. For, as time went on, it +appeared that Ginger walked through her inscrutable part with +irritating fidelity--that is, irritating to Helen Starratt. It could +not be otherwise, Fred decided, remembering the look of cool contempt +which his wife had thrown at Ginger's departing figure on the day of +their last interview. He saw Mrs. Hilmer only vaguely, in a +half-light, and yet out of the fragmentary sentences he got a sense of +something patient and brooding and terrible waiting an appointed +season. She seemed to be sitting back like some veiled and mystic +chorus, watching the duel of the other two and somehow shaping it to +her passive purpose. + +And where was Hilmer in it all? Somehow, in spite of his masculine +virility, he seemed to have no place nor footing upon the narrow ledge +of feminine subtleties. No doubt, as usual, he was proceeding in his +direct and complacent line, unaware of anything save the brutally +obvious... Perhaps only the brutally obvious had any existence, +perhaps Fred Starratt was spinning fantasies out of threads which came +to his hand. He did not know, he could not say, but in the still +watches of the night the figures of these three women circled round +and round the seething caldron of the future like skinny witches upon +a blasted heath. + +Meanwhile, rain succeeded rain. Fred Starratt knew that escape was +impossible under these conditions, but he let Monet chatter away and +continue his hoarding. Thus they passed Thanksgiving, and suddenly +Fred felt that Christmas would soon be upon them, with all its +heartbreaking melancholy. + +As Christmas drew near a bitter restlessness began to pervade Ward 6. +The rain fell in torrents for days. There was little chance for fresh +air or exercise except in the bull pen, which was provided with a shed +that ran the length of the wall. Into this dismal and jail-like yard +poured the entire human wreckage of Fairview. Fred and Monet went with +the others for one or two days, but finally Monet said: + +"Let's walk in the rain ... anything would be better than this." + +And so the next day, waiting until a pelting shower had merged +gradually into a faint mist, the two took a quick-step run about the +parade ground. They came back splashed with mud and dripping wet, but +their cheeks glowed and their hearts beat quickly. After that, no +matter how violent the downpour, they managed to take a turn in the +open. Sometimes they circled the grounds repeatedly. Again, if the +rain proved too drenching, one short run was all they could achieve. + +At the end of a week of such heroic exercising Monet said, +significantly: + +"You see how well I am standing this! Every day toughens us up... We +ought to be leaving soon." + +"After Christmas," Fred conceded, briefly. + +There followed a brief respite of clear, crisp days, warming to +mellowness at noon. After the midday meal everyone crawled out into +the sunlight, standing in little shivering groups, while Monet played +upon his violin. The cracked inventor, pulling his cardboard box on +its ridiculous spools, stopped to listen; Weeping Willow forgot his +grief and almost achieved a smile. Only the Emperor of Japan continued +his pacing back and forth, his royal gloom untouched by any responsive +chord. + +But the reaction from this sedative of music was in every case +violent. The remainder of the afternoon passed in tragic unquiet. One +day Harrison called Fred aside. The assistant superintendent was daily +yielding more and more to Fred's judgment. + +"What do you think about a Christmas tree for Ward Six?" + +For a moment Fred was uncertain. He knew the poignance of disturbing +memories. But, in the end, he felt that perhaps the floodgate of grief +had best be lifted. He knew by this time the cleansing solace of +tears. + +"We've never done it before," Harrison went on. + +"There has been a prejudice against bringing old days back too clearly +to these wretches... But Monet's been playing his music and they seem +to like that." + +It ended by Fred going out with Monet and one of the attendants into +the hills and bringing back a beautiful fir tree. They set it up in a +corner of the dining room and its bruised fragrance filled the entire +building... There followed the problem of its trimming. At first some +one suggested that it was more beautiful untricked with gauds, but to +Fred, unlighted by any human touch its loveliness seemed too cold and +impersonal and cruelly pagan. Presently the long afternoons were +rilled with a pathetic bustle. Everyone became interested. They popped +corn and strung it in snow-white garlands and some one from the +kitchen sent in a bowl of cranberries which were woven into a +blood-red necklace for the central branches. Harrison brought round a +sack of walnuts and some liquid gilt and two brushes. Men began to +quarrel good-naturedly for a chance at the gilding. A woman attendant, +hearing about the tree, rode, herself, into the village and bought +candles... Finally it was finished, and it stood in the early twilight +of a dripping Christmas Eve, a fantastic captive from the hills, +suffering its severe dignity to be melted in a cheap, but human, +splendor... They had a late dinner by way of marking the event, and +the usual turn of keys in the locks at seven o'clock was missing. At +the close of the meal as they were bringing on plum pudding Fred rose +from his place to light the candles... A little tremor ran through the +room; Monet started to play... He played all the heartbreaking +melodies--"Noël" and "Nazareth" and "Adeste Fideles." Slowly the tears +began to trickle, but they fell silently, welling up from mysterious +reaches too deep for shallow murmurings. Suddenly a thin, quavering +voice started a song. + + "God rest you, merry gentlemen!" + +The first line rang out in all its tremulous bravery. + +"_Merry_ gentlemen!" flashed through Fred's mind. "What mockery!" + +But a swelling chorus took it up and in the next instant they were men +again. They sang it all--every word to the last line ... repeating +each stanza after the little man who had begun it and who had risen +and taken his place beside Monet. + + "Now to the Lord sing praises, + All you within this place, + And with true love and brotherhood + Each other now embrace, + This holy tide of Christmas + All other doth deface." + +Only Fred remained silent. He could not sing, +the bravery of it all smote him too deeply. + + "This holy tide of Christmas + All other doth deface." + +They were singing the last words over again. + +Fred Starratt bowed his head. For the first and only time in his life +he felt Christ very near. But the Presence passed as quickly. When he +looked up the singing had ceased and the candles upon the tree were +guttering to a pallid end. Monet laid down his violin and blew out the +dying flames; his face was ashen and as he grasped the branches of the +tree his hand shook. A man in front rose to his feet. Flockwise the +others followed his lead. Christmas was over!... Fred Starratt had a +sense that it had died still-born. + +The next morning came wrapped in a dreadful silence. Men stood about +in huddling groups and whispered. The exaltation of the night before +had been too violent. A great dreariness oppressed Fred Starratt. He +felt the inevitable sadness of a man who had met unveiled Beauty face +to face and as speedily found the vision dissolved. The tree still +swept the rooms and corridors with its fragrance, but in the harsh +daylight its cheap trappings gave it a wanton look. Somehow, it mocked +him, filled him with a sense of the vanity of life and all its +fleeting impressions. The rain came down in a tremulous flood, +investing everything with its colorless tears. The trees, the +buildings, the very earth itself seemed to be melting away in +silvery-gray grief. + +Just before noon it lightened up a trifle and the rain stopped. + +"Let's get out of this!" Monet said, sweeping the frozen assembly in +the smoking room with an almost scornful glance. + +They found their hats and without further ado they started on a swing +about the grounds. It grew lighter and lighter ... it seemed for a +moment as if the sun would presently peep out from the clouds. They +achieved the full length of the parade ground and stopped, panting for +breath. Fred wiped his forehead with a huge handkerchief. + +"Shall we keep going?" he asked. + +Monet nodded. They swung into a wolfish trot again, across a stretch +of green turf, avoiding the clogging mud of the beaten trails. They +said nothing. Presently their rhythmic flight settled down to a +pleasurable monotony. They lost all sense of time and space. + +Gradually their speed slackened, and they were conscious that they +were winding up ... up... It was Monet who halted first. They were on +a flat surface again, coming out of a thicket suddenly. There was a +level sweep of ground, ending abruptly in space. + +"We're on Squaw Rock!" Fred Starratt exclaimed. + +The two went forward to the edge of a precipice. The embryo plain +leaped violently down a sheer three hundred feet directly into the lap +of a foaming river pool. Fred peered over. + +"There's the usual Indian legend, isn't there," he asked Monet, +"connected with this place?" + +Monet moved back with a little shudder. "Yes ... I believe there is... +The inevitable lovelorn maiden and the leap to death... Well, it's a +good plunging place." + +They both fell back a trifle, letting their gaze sweep the landscape +below, which was unfolding in theatrical unreality. At that moment the +sun came out, flooding the countryside with a flash of truant +splendor. To the south nestled the cluster of hospital buildings, each +sending out thin gray lines of smoke. Moving up the valley, hugging +the sinuous banks of the river, a train nosed its impudent way. + +"When shall we be leaving for good?" Monet asked, suddenly. + +Fred let out a deep breath. "The first time it really clears!" + +Monet rested his hand upon Fred's shoulder. "If we go east we'll have +to cross the river." + +"We'll follow the railroad track north for a mile or two. There's a +crossing near Pritchard's. I saw it on the day we went after the +tree." + +The train pulled into the station and was whistling on its way again. +The hospital automobile swung toward the grounds. Suddenly the sun was +snuffed out again; it grew dark and lowering. + +"We had better be on our way," Fred said, warningly. "It's going to +pour in less than no time." + +For a moment a silence fell between them, succeeded by an outburst +from Monet. + +"Let's keep on!" he cried, harshly. "Let's keep right on going! I +don't want to go back. I won't, I tell you! I won't!" + +Fred took him by the shoulders ... he was trembling violently. "Come +... come! We can't do that, you know!... We haven't provisions or +proper clothing. And the rain, my boy! We'd die of exposure ... or ... +worse!" + +"I don't care!" Monet flung out, passionately. "I'm not afraid to die +... not in the open." + +"And you haven't your violin," Fred put in, gently. + +"I never want to play again--after last night. ... It was horrible ... +horrible... '_God rest you, merry gentlemen_!' What could have +possessed them?" + +"Come, now!... You'll feel better to-morrow... And I promise you on +the first clear day we'll make it... The first morning we wake up and +find a cloudless sky." + +Fred moved forward, urging Monet to follow. The youth gave a little +shiver and suffered Fred's guidance. + +"If I go back now," he said, sadly, "it will be forever. I shall never +leave." + +Fred turned about and gave him a slight shake. "Nonsense! Last night +made you morbid. Harrison ought to have known better. This is no place +for Christmas! One day should be always like another." + +Monet shook his head. "While they were sing ... something passed ... I +can't describe it. But I grew cold all over ... I knew at once that... +Oh, well! what's the use? You do not understand!" + +He flung his hands up in a gesture of despair. + +Fred looked up at the sky. It had grown ominously black. "We'd better +speed up," he said, significantly. + +Monet squared himself doggedly. "You run if you want to... It doesn't +matter to me one way or another ... I feel tired." + +The rain began to fall in great garrulous drops. Fred took Monet's +sleeve between his fingers; slowly they retraced their steps. For a +few yards the youth surrendered passively, but as Fred neared the +thicket again he felt the sharp release of Monet's coat sleeve. He +continued on his way... Suddenly he heard a noise of swift feet +stirring up the rain-soaked leaves. He turned abruptly. Monet was +running in the other direction--toward the precipice. A dreadful chill +swept him. He tried to call, to run, but a great weakness transfixed +him. The startled air made a foolish whistling sound. Monet's figure +flew on in silence, gave a quick leaping movement, and was lost! + +Fred Starratt crawled back toward the precipice. The rain descended in +torrents and a wind rose to meet its violence. He looked down. The +pool below was churning to whitecapped fury, releasing a flood of +greedy and ferocious gurglings. Gradually a bitter silence fell and a +gloom gathered. Everything went black as midnight... + +He felt a cold blast playing through his hair. Instinctively he put +his hand to his head. His hat was gone. + +Suddenly it came to him that he would have to go back to Fairview ... +_alone_. + +He rose to his feet. "North ... a mile or two!" he muttered. "If I can +once cross the bridge!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +On a certain evening in February Fred Starratt, from the upper deck of +a ferryboat, again saw the dusky outlines of San Francisco stretch +themselves in faint allurement pricked with glittering splendor. It +was a mild night--the skies clear, the air tinged with pleasant chill, +the bay stilled to nocturnal quiet. + +He had come out upon the upper deck to be alone. He wanted to approach +the city of his birth in decent solitude, to feel the thrill of +home-coming in all its poignant melancholy. He had expected the event +to assume a special significance, to be fraught with hidden meaning, +to set his pulses leaping. But he had to confess that neither the +beauty of the night nor the uncommon quality of the event moved him. +Had he been wrung dry of all emotional reaction? It was not until a +woman came from the stuffy cabin and took a seat in a sheltered corner +outside that he had the slightest realization of the nearness of his +old environment. As she passed close to his pacing form a sickly sweet +odor enveloped him. He looked after her retreating figure. She was +carrying a yellow armful of blossoming acacia. The perfume evoked a +sad memory of virginal springs innumerable ... springs that seemed to +go back wistfully beyond his own existence ... springs long dead and +never to be revived. Dead? No, perhaps not quite that, but springs +never to be again his portion. This perfume of the blossoming acacia +... how in the old days it had always brought home a sense of +awakening, a sense of renewal to a land burned and seared and ravished +in the hot and tearless passion of summer! Following the first rains +would come the faint flush of green upon the hillsides, growing a +little deeper as the healing floods released themselves, and then, one +day, suddenly, almost overnight, the acacia would bend beneath a +yellow burden, sending a swooning fragrance out to match the yellow +sunlight of February. From that moment on the pageant was continuous, +bud and blossom and virginal leaf succeeding one another in showering +abundance. But nothing that followed quite matched the heavy beauty of +these first golden boughs, nothing that could evoke quite the same +infinite yearning for hidden and heroic destinies. He defined the +spell of the perfume again, but he did not feel it. It shook his +memory to its foundations, but it left his senses cold. And the city +before him was as sharply revealed and as cruelly unmoving. + +Suddenly he was done with a desire for solitude and he went below. A +half score of men were idling upon the lower deck. He began his +restless pacings again, stroking his faded beard with a strangely +white hand. Finally he stopped, gazing wistfully at the dark beauty of +the ferry tower, sending its winsome shaft up into the quivering +night. A man at his elbow began to speak in the characteristically +Californian fashion about the weather. + +"Yes," Fred assented, briefly, "it _is_ a fine night." + +"Too fine," the stranger returned. "We need rain." + +"Haven't you had much down this way, either?" Fred found himself +inquiring, glad of a chance to escape for the moment into the +commonplace. + +"At the beginning of the season it came on a bit, but since Christmas +there has been scarcely a drop. How does the country look?" + +Fred leaned against a water barrel and continued to stroke his beard. + +"Pretty well burned up. But the fruit trees will soon be blossoming in +spite of everything... The worst of it is there isn't any snow in the +mountains." + +"Ah, then you've been up into the Sierras." + +"Yes, since December... I had to make my way through the northern +passes just after Christmas. Folks told me it couldn't be done... I +guess it would have been almost impossible in a wet season. But things +were the same way up north. No end of rain in the fall and none to +speak of since the holidays. But at that I've been through some tough +times... How are things in town?" + +The stranger unbuttoned his shabby overcoat and took out a bag of +tobacco. His indifferent suit and thick blue-flannel shirt, which +ordinarily would have stamped him as an artisan, was belied by the +quality of his speech. + +"Things are rotten. Everybody is striking. You can't get work anywhere +except you want to scab... You'd better have stayed where you came +from." + +There was a tentative quality in this observation that roused in Fred +a vague speculation. He had a feeling that the stranger was leading up +cautiously to some subject. He looked again, this time sharply, at his +companion of the moment. There was nothing extraordinary in the face +except the eyes burning fitfully under the gloom of incredibly thick, +coarse, reddish eyebrows. His mouth was a curious mixture of softness +and cruelty, and his hands were broad, but not ungraceful. + +"Well, if a man is starving he'll do almost anything, I guess," Fred +returned, significantly. + +"Do you mean that _you_ would--if you were starving?" + +"I'm starving now!" escaped Fred Starratt, almost involuntarily. + +"I thought so," said the other, quietly. + +"Why?" + +"I've seen plenty of starving men in my day. I know the look. And +you're suffering in the bargain. Not physically. But you've been +through a hell of some kind. Am I right?" + +"Yes ... you're quite right." + +The boat was swinging into the slip. Already a crowd was moving down +upon them. + +"That's why I spoke to you. A man who's been through hell is like a +field freshly broken to the plow. He's ready for seed." + +Fred cast an ironical glance at the man before him. "And you, I +suppose, are the sower," he said, mockingly. "A parson?" + +The other laughed, disclosing greenish teeth. "Of a sort... Perhaps +high priest would be nearer the truth. There's a certain purposeful +cruelty about that term which appeals to me. I'm a bit of a fanatic, +you know... But I like to get my recruits when they're bleeding raw. I +like them when the salt of truth can sting deep... Wounds heal so +quickly ... so disgustingly quickly." + +He spat contemptuously and began to cram a blackened pipe to +overflowing. The boat had landed and already the crowd was moving up +the apron. Fred and his companion felt themselves urged forward by the +pressure of this human tide. + +"Come and have some coffee with me," Fred heard the man at his side +say in a half-commanding tone. "My name is Storch. What shall I call +you?" + +"Anything you like!" Fred snapped, viciously. + +The other laughed. "You're in capital form! Upon my word we'll get on +famously together." And he spat again, this time with satisfaction and +rare good humor. + +Fred Starratt looked up. They had emerged suddenly from the uncertain +twilight of a stone-flanked corridor into a harsh blue-white flood of +electricity. A confused babble of noises fell upon his ears. He put +out his hand instinctively and clutched the arm of the man at his +side. + +"Yes ... yes..." the voice of his companion broke in, reassuringly. +"You're all right. In a moment ... after you've had coffee things +will..." + +He clutched again and presently, like a drowning man borne upon the +waves by a superior force, he felt himself guided through a maze of +confusing details, into swift and certain safety. + + * * * * * + +The coffee house into which Fred Starratt had been led by Storch was +choked with men and the thick odor of coffee and fried ham. To a man +who had eaten sparingly for days the smell of food was nauseating. +Storch ordered coffee for himself and a bowl of soup for Fred. This +last was a good choice in spite of the fact that for a moment Fred +felt instinctive rebellion. These pale, watery messes were too +suggestive of Fairview. But in the end the warm fluid dissipated his +weakness and he began to experience a normal hunger. + +Storch finished his cup of coffee and wiped a dark-brown ooze from his +upper lip with a paper napkin. + +"Better take a slice of bread or two," he advised Fred, "and then call +it quits. You'll feel better in the long run. A starved stomach +shouldn't be surprised with too much food." + +Fred obeyed. He could see that this man understood many things. + +Gradually the crowd thinned. Soon only Fred and Storch were left at +the particular table that they had chosen. Stragglers came and went, +but still Storch made no move to go, and Fred was equally inactive. He +felt warm and comfortably drowsy and, on the whole, quite content. The +waiter cleared away the empty dishes and then discreetly ignored them. +Fred fell to studying his reflection in the polished mirror running +the length of the room. He had to acknowledge that he looked savage, +with his hair long and untidy and a bristling, sunburnt beard +smothering his features. And suddenly, in the intensity of his +concentration, he felt a swooning sense of nonexistence, as if his +inner consciousness had detached itself someway from the egotism of +the flesh and stood apart, watching... He was recalled by Storch's +voice. He shuddered slightly and turned his face toward his +questioner. + +"I didn't hear what you said," escaped him. + +Storch leaned forward. "I was asking what you were doing ... up north +in the mountains during December. Only a desperate man or a fool would +take a chance like that... And I can see you're not a fool... There +aren't any prisons up that way that I know of." + +"_Prisons_! What do you mean?" + +"You've escaped from somewhere." + +"How do you know?" + +"You're still furtive in spite of your pretended calm. I know the +look. I know the feeling. I've seen scores of men who have been +through the mill. I've been through the mill myself. Not once, but +several times. I've been in nearly every jail in the country worth +putting up at... Even the Federal prisons haven't been proof against +me. I've beat them all. It's a game I like to play. Just as one man +plunges into stocks, or another breaks strikes, or another leads a +howling mob to victory... Every man has his game. What's yours?" + +Fred shrugged. "Why are you telling me all this?" he countered. "You +don't know me." + +Storch laughed, showing his greenish teeth again. "What difference +does that make?... I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I think +I've got you right. You might play a rough game, but it would be +square--according to your standards... I question most standards, but +that is neither here nor there. They shackle some people +extraordinarily. Just now you're drifting about without any. But +you'll tie to some sort of anchor pretty soon... That's why you +interest me. I want to get you while you're still drifting." + +Fred felt a sudden chill. He was suspicious of this ironically genial +man opposite him who bought him food and then prodded for his secret. +There was something diabolical about the way he calmly admitted an +impersonal but curiously definite interest. + +"What is your business, anyway?" Fred shot out, suddenly. + +"I'm a fisher for men," he replied, cryptically. "Some people build up +... others destroy. There must be always those who clear the +ground--the wreckers, in other words... There's too much attention +paid to building. Folks are in such a hurry they go about rearing all +kinds of crazy structures on rotten foundations... I'm looking for +some human dynamite to make a good job." + +Fred drew back. "You've got me wrong," he said. "I'm not a radical." + +"Not yet, of course. Your kind take a lot of punishment before they +see the light. But you're a good prospect--a damned good prospect. +You're a good deal like a young fellow I met last fall when I was +working over in the shipyards in Oakland. He--" + +"Shipyards?" interrupted Fred. "Not Hilmer's shipyards, by any +chance?" + +Storch leaned forward, drawing his shaggy eyebrows together. "Why?" + +"I know Hilmer, that's all." + +Storch continued his searching scrutiny. Fred felt uneasy--it seemed +as if this man opposite him was drawing the innermost secret of his +soul to the surface. Finally Storch rubbed his hands together with an +air of satisfaction as he said: + +"So you know Hilmer!... That makes you all the more interesting... +Well, well, let's be moving. I'll put you up for the night. I've got a +shelter, such as it is." + +Fred rose. He had an impulse to refuse. There was something uncanny +about the power of Storch. He was at once fascinating and repulsive. +But, on second thought, any shelter was better than a night spent on +the streets. He had had two months of buffeting and he was ready for +even an indifferent comfort. + +He ended by going with his new-found friend. They trotted south along +the Embarcadero, hugging the shadows close. This street, once noisy +with a coarse, guzzling gayety, was silent. A few disconsolate men +hung about the emasculated bars trying to rouse their sluggish spirits +on colicky draughts of near beer and grape juice, but the effect was +dismal and forbidding. Fred felt a great depression overwhelm him. + +He had grown accustomed to the silence of the open spaces, but this +silence of the city had a portentous quality which frightened him. It +reminded him of that ominous quiet that had settled down on Fairview +after that heartbreaking celebration on Christmas Eve. What were men +doing with their idle moments? How were they escaping from the drab +to-day? Did the crowded lobbies of the sailors' lodging houses spell +the final word in the bleak entertainment that intolerance had left +them? Upon one of the street corners a Salvation Army lassie harangued +an indifferent handful. But there seemed nothing now from which to +save these men except monotony, and religion of the fife-and-drum +order was offering only a very dreary escape. Did the moral values of +negative virtue make men any more admirable? he found himself +wondering. + +Storch led the way in silence. Finally they turned up toward the +slopes of Rincon Hill. A cluster of shacks, clinging crazily to the +tawny banks, loomed ahead in the darkness. Storch clambered along a +beaten trail and presently he leaped toward the broader confines of a +street which opened its arms abruptly to receive them. Fred followed. +The thoroughfare upon which he found himself standing was little more +than a lane, hedged on either side by crazy structures that nearly all +had sprung to rambling life from one-roomed refugee shacks which had +dotted the city after the fire and earthquake. Most of them were vine +clad and brightened with beds of scarlet geraniums, but the house +before which Storch halted rose uncompromisingly from the sun-baked +ground without the charity of a covering. Storch turned the key and +threw the door open, motioning Fred to enter. Fred did as he was +bidden and found himself in a cluttered room, showing harshly in the +light streaming in from a near-by street lamp. The air was foul with +stale tobacco, refuse, and imprisoned odors of innumerable greasy +meals and the sweaty apparel of men who work with their hands. + +Storch lighted a lamp. A tumble-down couch stood against the wall, and +in an opposite corner a heap of tattered quilts had been flung +disdainfully. Tables and chairs and even the floor were piled with +papers and cheaply covered books and tattered magazines. + +Storch pointed to the couch. "You sleep there to-night. I'll roll up +on the floor." + +It never occurred to Fred to protest. The two began to shed their +outer garments. Fred crawled in between the musty quilts. Storch blew +out the lamp, and Fred saw him move toward the quilts in the corner. +Without bothering to straighten them out he flung himself down and +pulled a covering over him. The light from the street lamp continued +to flood the room. Presently Fred heard Storch chuckling. + +"So you know Hilmer!" he was repeating again, making a sound of +satisfaction, as one does over a succulent morsel. "Well ... well ... +fancy how things turn out!" + +Fred made no reply, and after a time a gentle snoring told that Storch +had fallen asleep. + +Fred tossed about, oppressed by the close air. But, in the end, even +he fell into a series of fitful dozes. He dreamed the room in which he +was sleeping was suddenly transformed into a huge spider web from +which there was no escape. And he caught glimpses of Storch himself +hanging spider-wise from a gossamer thread, spinning dizzily in +midair... He awoke repeatedly, returning as often to the same dream. +Toward morning he heard a faint stirring about. But he lay huddled in +a pretense of sleep... Finally the door banged and he knew that Storch +had left... He let out a profound sigh and turned his face from the +light... + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +When Fred Starratt awoke a noonday sun was flooding in at the single +window. Consciousness brought no confusion ... he was beginning to +grow accustomed to sudden shifts in fortune and strange environments +had long since ceased to be a waking novelty. Outside he could hear +the genial noises of a thickly populated lane--shrilly cried bits of +neighborhood gossip bandied from doorstep to doorstep ... the laughter +of children ... the call of a junkman ... even a smothered cackling +from some captive hen fulfilling its joyful function in spite of +restraint. He did not rise at once, but he lay there thinking, trying +to force the realization that he was again in San Francisco... He +wondered dimly at the power of the homing instinct that had driven him +back. It was plain to him now that almost any other environment would +have been materially better. He had had the whole state of California +to choose from, indeed he might have flown even farther afield. But +from the very beginning his feet had turned homeward with uncanny +precision. On those first days and nights when he had lain huddled in +any uncertain shelter that came to hand the one thought that had +goaded him on was the promise of this return. + +And those first hours of freedom had been at once the sweetest and the +bitterest. Wet to the skin, starved, furtive, like a lean, dog-harried +coyote he had achieved the mountains and safety more dead than alive. +Looking back, he could see that only the sheerest madness had tempted +him to flight in the first place. Without an ounce of provisions, +without blankets, at the start lacking even a hat, he had defied the +elements and won. God was indeed tender with all fools and madmen! + +He knew now that under ordinary circumstances he must have perished in +the mountain passes. But the weather had been warm there all during +December and more rain than snow had fallen, keeping the beaten paths +reasonably open... He had thought always of these snow-pent places as +quite devoid of any life at the winter season, and he was amazed to +find how many human beings burrowed in and hibernated during the +storm-bound months. Elsewhere, the skulking traveler received a chary +welcome, but in the silent fastness of the hills latchstring and +hearthstone and tobacco store were for genial sharing. In almost any +one of these log shelters that he chanced upon he might have settled +himself in content and found an indefinite welcome, but the urge to be +up and on sent him forward to the next rude threshold. Thus mountain +cabin succeeded mountain cabin until, presently, one day Fred Starratt +found himself swinging down to the plains again--to the broad-bosomed +valleys lying parched and expectant under the cruel spell of drought. +Now people regarded him suspiciously, dogs snapped at his heels, and +farmers' women thrust him doles of food through half-opened kitchen +doors. Here and there he picked up a stray job or two. But he was +plainly inefficient for most tasks assigned him... In the small towns +there were not enough jobs to go round ... young men were returning +from overseas and dislodging the incompetents who had achieved +prosperity because of the labor shortage. The inland cities were in +the grip of strikes ... there were plenty of jobs, but few with the +temerity to attempt to fill them. And, besides, what had Fred Starratt +to offer in the way either of skill or brawn?... He grew to know the +meaning of impotence. No, he was a creature of the paved streets, and +to the paved streets he returned as swiftly as his feet and his +indifferent fortune could carry him. Besides, he had grown hungry for +familiar sights and faces, and perhaps, down deep, curiosity had been +the mainspring of his return. Even bitter ties have a pull that cannot +always be denied. At Fairview the presence of Monet had held him +almost a willing captive. There was something about the flame burning +in that almost frail body that had lighted even the ugliness of +Fairview with a strange beauty. He could not think of him as dead. +That last moment had been too tinged with the haunting poetry of life. +How often he had reconstructed that scene--the gray, sullen rain +pattering on the spent leaves, the quick-rushing sound of a body in +flight, the sudden leap of a soul toward greater freedom! And then the +vision of the churning pool below closing in triumphantly as it might +have done upon some reclaimed pagan creature that had tasted the +bitter wine of exile and returned in leaping joy to its chosen +element! It was not the shock and sadness of death that had sent Fred +Starratt for a moment stark mad into the storm and freedom, but rather +an ecstasy of loneliness ... a yearning to match daring with daring. + +And now he was home again, in his own gray-green city, lying beneath +tattered quilts in a hovel, with the selfsame February sun that had +once pricked him to a spiritual adventure flooding in upon him! He +rose and threw open the door. The soft noontide air floated in, +displacing the fetid atmosphere. He looked about the room searchingly. +In the daylight it seemed even more unkempt, but less forbidding. A +two-burner kerosene stove stood upon an empty box just under the +window. On another upturned box at its side lay a few odds and ends of +cooking utensils, shriveling bits of food, a plate or two. He found a +loaf of dry bread and cut a slice from it. This, together with a glass +of water, completed his breakfast. + +He tried to brush his weather-beaten clothes into decency with a stump +of a whisk broom and to wipe the dust of the highroad from his almost +spent shoes. But, somehow, these feeble attempts at gentility seemed +to increase his forlorn appearance. + +He went over and straightened out the bedcoverings. At least he would +leave the couch in some semblance of order. What did Storch expect him +to do? Come back again for shelter? He had no plans, but as he went +out, banging the door, he felt no wish to return. + +His first thought now was to see Ginger. He went to the Turk Street +address. He found a huge frame mansion of the 'eighties converted into +cheap lodgings. The landlady, wearing large jet and gold ornaments, +eyed him suspiciously. Miss Molineaux no longer lived there. Her +present address? She had left none. Thus dismissed, he turned his +steps toward the Hilmers'. + +He had expected to come upon the vision of his wife wheeling Mrs. +Hilmer up and down the sidewalk, and yet, when these expectations were +realized, he experienced a shock. There she was, Helen Starratt, in a +black dress and a black hat, pacing with drab patience the full length +of the block and back again. He could not get a good view of her face +because her hat shaded her eyes. Mrs. Hilmer's figure, equally +indistinct, was a shapeless mass of humanity. A child, coming out of a +nearby house with a pair of roller skates in her hand, stood off and +answered his questions, at first reluctantly, but finally with the +importance of encouraged childhood... Who was the lady in the wheeled +chair? Mrs. Hilmer. And the other one in black? Her name was Starratt. +No, she didn't know her very well. But people said she was very sad. +She dressed in black and looked unhappy. Why? Because her husband was +dead. No, there was no mistake--she had heard her mother say so many +times--Mrs. Starratt's husband was dead, quite dead!... + +He turned back toward town. _Dead, quite dead_! Well, the child had +reckoned better than she knew! + +He retraced his steps slowly, resting upon many hospitable doorsteps +that afternoon. The noise of the city confused him, the stone +pavements hurt his ankles, he was hungry and faint. He did not know +what to do or where to go. Only one shelter lay open to him. Should he +go back to Storch? + +Finally, toward five o'clock, he found himself standing upon the +corner of California and Montgomery streets, watching the tide of +office workers flooding homeward. A truant animation was flaming them +briefly. Familiar face after familiar face passed, lighted with the +joy of sudden release from servitude. Fred Starratt was curiously +unmoved. He had fancied that he would feel a great yearning toward all +this well-ordered sanity. He had fancied that he would be overwhelmed +with memories, with regrets, with futile tears. But he knew now that +even if it were possible to re-enter the world in which he had once +moved he would refuse scornfully. Was it always so with those who +achieved death? Ah yes, death was the great progression, one never +re-entered the circle of life one quitted. Dead, quite dead! Or, as +Storch put it, "A field freshly broken to the plow!" A field awaiting +the eternal upspringing and the inevitable harvest... And so on, again +and again, to the end of time! + +He came out of his musings with a renewed sense of faintness and the +realization that the street was rapidly being emptied of its throng. A +few stragglers hurried toward the ferry. He roused himself. A +green-gold light was enlivening the west and giving a ghostly +unreality to the street lamps twinkling in a premature blossoming. + +He was turning to go when he saw a familiar figure coming up the +street. He looked twice to assure himself that he was not mistaken. It +was Brauer! + +He stood a moment longer, roused to indifferent curiosity, but, as +Brauer brushed close, a sudden malevolent hatred shook him. He squared +himself and said in a hoarse tone: + +"I'm starving... I want money ... to eat!" Brauer turned a face of +amazed and insolent incredulity toward Fred. + +"Well, you won't get it from me!" he flung back. + +Fred Starratt grasped Brauer's puny wrist in a ferocious grip. + +"Oh yes, I will... Do you know who I am?" + +"You? ... No... Let me go; you're hurting me!" + +"Look at me closely!" + +"I tell you I don't know you. Are you crazy?" + +"Perhaps... I've been in an insane asylum... Now do you know who I +am?" + +Brauer fell back. "No," he breathed: "it can't be possible! Fred +Starratt is dead." + +Fred began to laugh. "You're right. But I want something to eat just +the same. You're going to take me into Hjul's ... and buy me a meal. +... And after I've eaten perhaps you'll hear how I died and who killed +me." + +He could feel Brauer trembling in his grasp. A rising cruelty +overwhelmed him. He flung Brauer from him with a gesture of contempt. + +"Are we going to eat?" he asked, coldly. + +"Yes ... whatever you say." + +Fred nodded and together the two drifted down Montgomery Street. + +Sitting over a generous platter of pot roast and spaghetti at Hjul's, +with Brauer's pallid face staring up at him, Fred Starratt had the +realization that there was at least one mouselike human to whom he +could play the role of cat. + +Brauer did not need to be prodded to speech. He told everything with +the eagerness of a child caught in a fault and seeking to curry the +favor of his questioner. He and Kendricks were placing all the Hilmer +insurance. Yes, they were rebating--that went without saying. And what +else lay at the bottom of Hilmer's generosity? Fred Starratt put the +question insinuatingly. Ah yes, the little matter of standing by when +Starratt had been sent to Fairview. No, Hilmer had made no demand, but +he had advised Brauer to be firm--through his lawyer, of course ... a +hint, nothing more--that some sort of example should be made of men +who... +Yes, that was just as it had happened. + +"And you knew where they were sending me?" Fred was moved to demand, +harshly. + +"Well ... yes... But Hilmer's lawyer put it so convincingly... +Everything was to be for the best." + +"Including your share in the Hilmer business?" + +Brauer had the grace to wince. "Well, there was nothing said +absolutely." + +"And what did you figure was Hilmer's reason for ... well, wanting me +to summer at Fairview?" + +Brauer toyed with a spoon. "There could only be one reason." + +"Don't be afraid. You mean that my wife..." + +"Yes ... just that!" + +Fred Starratt had a sense that he should have been stirred to anger, +but instead a great pity swept him, pity for a human being who could +sell another so shamelessly and not have the grace to deny it. Yes, he +realized now that there were times when a lie was the most +self-respecting and admirable thing in the world. + +"It appears that I am dead also. I saw my wife to-day mourning for me +in the most respectable of weeds." + +"Your hat, you see--it was found in the water ... not far from the +dead body of your friend... Naturally..." + +"Yes, naturally, the wish was father to the thought. Just so!" + +And with that Fred Starratt laughed so unpleasantly that Brauer +shivered and his face reddened. + +By this time Fred Starratt had finished eating. Brauer paid the check +and the two departed. At the first street corner Brauer attempted to +slip a five-dollar bill into Starratt's hand. He refused scornfully. + +"Money? I don't want your money. There is only one thing that will buy +my good will--_your silence_. Do you understand what I mean? ... I'm +not the same man you tricked last July. Then I thought I had +everything to lose. Now I know that no one ever loses anything... You +don't understand me, do you? ... Oh, well, it doesn't matter." + +Brauer's frightened lips scarcely moved as he asked: + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Anywhere I can find a shelter... Last night I spent with an +anarchist... I think he'd blow up almost anyone for just the sheer joy +of it." + +Brauer shuddered. "Where will you spend to-night?" + +"I think I'll go back to the same place... This morning I was +undecided. But I've heard a lot of things since then... I'm taking an +interest in life again... By the way, the man I'm staying with knows +Hilmer... And I don't think he likes him, either... I'll give you one +tip, Brauer. Never get an anarchist sore at you... _They_ haven't +anything to lose, either." + +He had never seen such pallor as that which shook the color from +Brauer's face. He decided not to torment him further. + +He had established a sense of the unfathomable for the present and +future terror of his trembling little ex-partner. His revenge, so far +as Brauer was concerned, was complete. He had not the slightest wish +to see Brauer again. + +He let his hands close once more tightly about Brauer's puny wrists. + +"Remember ... you have not seen me. Do you understand?" + +"Yes." + +"Not a living soul ... you are not to even suggest that ... otherwise +... well, I am living with an anarchist, and a word to the wise ..." + +He turned abruptly and left his companion standing on the street +corner, staring vacantly after him. + +Instinctively his footsteps found their way to Storch's shack. A light +was glimmering inside. Fred beat upon the door. It swung open quickly, +revealing Storch's greenish teeth bared in a wide smile of +satisfaction. + +"Come in ... come in!" Storch cried out gayly. "Have a good day?" + +"Excellent!" Fred snapped back, venomously. "I learned, among other +things, that I am legally dead." + +Storch rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "A clean slate! Do +you realize how wonderful it is, my man, to start fresh?" + +Fred threw himself into a chair. He felt tired. Sharp, darting pains +were stabbing his eyes. "I think I'm going to be ill!" he said, with +sudden irrelevance. + +Storch lighted the oil stove. "Crawl into bed and I'll get you +something hot to drink!" + +Storch's tone was kind to a point of softness, and yet, later, when he +bent over the couch with a steaming glass in his hand Fred experienced +a sharp revulsion. + +"I dreamed all last night," Fred said, almost defiantly, "that this +room was a cobweb and that you were a huge spider, dangling on a +thread." + +"And you were the fly, I suppose," Storch replied, sneeringly. + +The next instant he had touched Fred's forehead gently, almost +tenderly, but his eyes glittered beneath their shaggy brows with an +insane ferocity... Fred took the glass. He was too ill to care much +one way or the other. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Next morning Fred Starratt knew that he was too ill to rise. Then +everything became hazy. He had moments of consciousness when he sensed +Storch's figure moving in a sort of mist, flashing a green smile +through the gloom. He saw other figures, too---Helen Starratt, swathed +in clinging black; Hilmer, displaying his mangled thumb; Monet with +eyes of gentle reproach; and Ginger, very vague and very wistful. +There were times when the room seemed crowded with strange people who +came and went and gesticulated, people gathering close to the dim lamp +which Storch lighted at nightfall. + +The visions of Monet were a curious mixture of shadow and reality. +Sometimes he seemed very elusive, but, again, his face would grow +clear to the point of dazzling brightness. At such moments Fred would +screen his eyes and turn away, only in the end to catch a melting +glimpse of Monet fading gradually with a gesture of resignation and +regret. But slowly the outlines of Monet grew less and less tangible +and the personality of Storch more and more shot through with +warm-breathed vitality, and the strange company that gathered at dusk +about the lamp became living things instead of shadows. Yet it took +him some time to realize that these nightly gatherings at Storch's +were composed of real flesh and blood. + +At first he was content to lie in a drowse and listen to the +incoherent babblings of these nocturnal visitors, but, as he grew +stronger, detached bits of conversation began to impress themselves +upon him. These people had each some pet grievance and it remained for +Storch to pick upon the strings of their discontents with unerring +accuracy. At about eight o'clock every night the first stragglers +would drift in, reinforced by a steady stream, until midnight saw a +room stuffed with sweating humanity releasing their emotions in a +biting flood of protests. They protested at everything under the +sun--at custom, at order, at work, at play, at love, at life itself. +And Storch, for the most part silent, would sit with folded arms, +puffing at his pipe, a suggestion of genial malice on his face, +throwing out a phrase here and there that set the pack about him +leaping like hungry dogs to the lure of food. In confused moments Fred +Starratt fell to wondering whether he really had escaped from +Fairview, whether the forms about him were not the same motley +assembly that used to gather in the open and exchange whines. The +wails now seemed keyed to howls of defiance, but the source was +essentially the same. + +Fred wondered how he lived through these dreadful evenings with the +air thick to choking. Indeed, he used to wonder what had saved him +from death at any stage of the game. Storch had permitted him the use +of a maggoty couch, had shared scraps of indifferent food at irregular +intervals, and set a cracked pitcher of water within reach. But beyond +that, he had been ignored. The nightly assembly did not even cast +their glances his way. + +During the day Fred was left alone for the most part, and he felt a +certain luxury in this personal solitude after the months at Fairview +with its unescapable human contacts. He would lie there, his ears +still ringing with the echoes from the nightly gathering of +malcontents, trying to reconstruct his own quarrel with life. He had a +feeling that he would remain a silent onlooker only until Storch +decreed otherwise. If he stayed long enough the night would come when +Storch would call upon him for a testimonial of hatred. He knew that +deep down somewhere within him rancors were stirring to sinister life. +He had experienced the first glimmerings of cruelty in that moment +when he had felt Brauer tremble under his grasp. What would have been +his reaction to physical fear on Helen Starratt's part? Suppose on +that afternoon when he had watched her wheeling Mrs. Hilmer up and +down with deceitful patience he had gone over and struck her the blow +which was primitively her portion? Would the sight of her whimpering +fear have stirred him to further elemental cruelties? Would he have +ended by killing her? ... Physically weak as he was, he could still +feel the thrill of cruelty that had shaken him at the realization of +Brauer's dismay. As a child, when a truant gust of deviltry had swept +him, he had felt the same satisfaction in pummeling a comrade who +backed away from friendly cuffs turned instantly to blows of malice. +Even now he had occasionally a desire to seek out Brauer again and +worry him further. He was fearing indifference. What if, after all +that he had suffered at the hands of others, he should find himself in +the pale clutch of an impotent indifference? He felt a certain shame +back of the possibility, and at such moments the words of Storch used +to ring in his ears: + +"Wounds heal so quickly ... so disgustingly quickly!" + +And again, watching Storch at night, touching the quivering cords +which might otherwise have rusted in inactive silence, he remembered +further the introduction to this contemptuous phrase: + +"I like to get my recruits when they're bleeding raw. I like them when +the salt of truth can sting deep..." + +How Storch lived Fred could only guess. But he managed always to +jingle a silver coin or two and keep a crust of bread in the house. +His fare was frugal to the point of being ascetic. Once or twice, as +if moved by Fred's physical weakness, he brought some scraps of beef +home and brewed a few cups of steaming bouillon, and again, one Sunday +morning he went out and bought a half dozen eggs which he converted +into an impossibly tough omelet. But for the most part he lived on +coffee and fresh French bread and cheese. It was on this incredible +fare that Fred Starratt won back his strength. His exhaustion was an +exhaustion of the spirit, and food seemed to have little part in +either his disorder or his recovery. + +Whatever Storch's specific grievance with life, he never voiced it and +in this he won Fred's admiration. He liked to jangle the discordant +passions of others, but his own he muffled into complete silence. He +had worked at almost every known calling. It seemed that he came and +disappeared always as suddenly and in his wake a furrow of men +harrowed to supreme unrest yielded up a harvest sown of dragon's +teeth. He was an idea made flesh, patient, relentless, almost +intangible. He flashed upon new horizons like a cloud from the south +and he vanished as completely once he had revived hatred with his +insinuating showers. He was, as he had said on that first meeting with +Fred, a fanatic, a high priest. He called many, but he chose few. + +One night after the others had left Fred said to him: + +"Do you realize what you are doing? ... You are working up these men +to a frenzy. Some morning we shall wake to find murder done." + +"How quickly you are learning," Storch answered, flinging his coat +aside. + +"Are you fair?" Fred went on, passionately. "If you have your +convictions, why not risk your own hide to prove them? Why make +cats'-paws of the others?" + +Storch took out his pipe and lighted it deliberately. "Prospective +martyrs are as plentiful as fish in a net," he answered. "Of what good +is the sea's yield without fishermen? ... I sacrifice myself and who +takes my place? Will you?" + +Fred turned on him suddenly. "You are not training me to be your +successor, I hope," he said, with a slight sneer. "Because I lie here +without protest is no reason that I approve. Indeed, I wonder +sometimes if I do quite right to permit all this... There are +authorities, you know." + +Storch looked at him steadily. "The door is open, my friend." + +Fred gave a little gesture of resignation. + +"You know perfectly well that I'm not built to betray the man who +gives me shelter." + +"Oh, I'm not sheltering you for love!" + +"You have some purpose, of course. I understand that. But you're +wasting time." + +"Well, I'll risk it... I know well enough you're not a man easily won +to an abstract hatred... But a personal hatred very often serves as +good a turn... Everything is grist to my mill." + +"A personal hatred?" echoed Fred. + +Storch blew out the light. + +"You're duller than I thought," he called through the gloom. + +Fred turned his face away and tried to sleep. + +The next day he decided to crawl out of bed and begin to win back his +strength. He couldn't lie there forever sharing Storch's roof and +crust. But the effort left him exhausted and he was soon glad to fling +himself back upon the couch. + +Each succeeding day he felt a little stronger, until the time came +when he was able to drag himself to the open door and sit in the +sunshine. He had never thought much about sunshine in the old days. A +fine day had been something to be remarked, but scarcely hoarded. With +the steam radiator working, it had not mattered so much whether the +sun shone or not... He remembered the first time that a real sense of +the sun's beauty had struck him--on that morning which now seemed so +remote--when he had risen weakly from his cot at the detention +hospital and made ready for exile at Fairview. Less than a year ago! +How many things had assumed new values since then! Now, he could +exploit every sunbeam to its minutest warmth, he could wring +sustenance from a handful of crumbs, he knew what a cup of cold water +meant. He was on speaking terms with hunger, he had been comrade to +madness, he had looked upon sudden death, he was an outcast and, in a +sense, a criminal. He felt that he could almost say with Hilmer: + +"I know all the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact." + +All but murder--yet it had brushed close to him. Even now he could +evoke the choking rage that had engulfed him on that night of his +arrest when his defenseless cheek had reddened to the blow of +humiliation. This had been, however, a flash of passion. But once, +meeting a man who blocked his path in the first upper reaches of the +hills, beyond Fairview, he had felt the even more primitive itch of +self-preservation urging him to the ultimate crime. Would he end by +going a step farther and planning the destruction of life in cold +blood? + +It was curious how constant association with a sensational idea dulled +the edge of its novelty. The first time he had heard deliberate and +passionless murder all but plotted in Storch's huddled room he had +felt a quick heartbeat of instinctive protest. Had he been stronger at +that moment he would have leaped to his feet in opposition. But the +moment passed and when he heard the subject broached again he listened +curiously. Finally he ceased to feel the slightest tremor of revolt. +Was indifference always the first step toward surrender? + +Finally Fred grew strong enough to desert his couch at evening. Up to +this point he had been ignored by the nightly visitors, but now they +made a place for him in the circle about the sputtering lamp. It +seemed, also, that, with his active presence, the talk began to assume +general point and direction. Storch had been giving them plenty of +tether, but now he was beginning to pull up sharply, putting their +windy theories to the test. They were for clearing the ground, were +they? Well, so far so good. But generalities led nowhere. Why not +something specific? Wasn't the time ripe for action--thousands of men, +walking the streets, locked out because they dared to demand a decent +and even break? And this in the face of all the altruistic +rumble-bumble which war had evoked? He played this theme over and over +again, and finally one night with an almost casual air he said: + +"Take the shipyards, for instance ... forty-odd thousand men locked +out while the owners lay plans to shackle them further. Now is the +chance. Quit talking and get busy!" + +It ended in a list being made of the chief offenders--owners, +managers, irascible foremen. Fred Starratt listened like a man in a +dream. When Hilmer was named he found himself shivering. These people +were plotting murder now--cool, calm, passionless murder! There was +something fascinating in the very nonchalance of it. + +Storch's eyes glittered more and more savagely. He drew up plans, +arranged incredible details, delivered specific offenders into the +hands of certain of his henchmen. + +"You are responsible for this man, now," he used to fling at the +chosen one. "How or where or when does not interest me--but get him, +you understand, _get him_!" + +One night a member said, significantly: + +"Everybody's been picked but Hilmer... What's the matter, Storch, are +you saving that plum for yourself?" + +Storch rubbed his hands together, flashing a look at Fred. + +"No... There's an option on Hilmer!" he cried, gleefully. + +Fred tried to ignore the implication, but all night the suggestion +burned itself into his brain. So some one was to get Hilmer, after +all! Well, why not? Hilmer liked men with guts enough to fight--rabbit +drives were not to his taste... Among all the names brought up and +discussed at these sinister gatherings about Storch's round table +Hilmer's stood out as the ultimate prize. No one spoke a good word for +him and yet Fred had to admit that the revilings were flavored with a +certain grudging respect. He was an open and consistent tyrant, at any +rate. + +An option on Hilmer! What a trick Storch had for illuminating phrases! +... And his divinations were uncanny. Why should he assume that Hilmer +was in any way bound up in Fred Starratt's life? + +The next morning Fred decided to chance a walk in the open. He had a +vague wish to try his wings again, now that he had grown stronger. The +situation reminded him remotely of Fairview on those first days when +Monet and he had attempted to harden their muscles against the day of +escape. But this time he was struggling to free himself from a +personality, from an idea. He must leave Storch and his motley brood +as soon as possible; somehow the acid of their ruthless philosophy was +eating away the remnants of any inner beauty which had been left him. +At first he had been all revolt, but now there were swift moments in +which he asked himself what quarrel he could have with any blows +struck at authority. What had established order done for him? Acted as +a screen for villainy and inconstancy for the most part. + +He turned all this over in his mind as he slunk furtively along the +water front, trying vaguely to shape a plan of action. He felt himself +to be a very unusual and almost terrible figure, and yet no one paid +any heed to him. His beard had lost its sunburned character and grown +jet black, his face, and particularly his hands, were pale to +transparence, his eyes burned too brightly in their sunken sockets. He +was not even a ghost of his former self, but rather a sinister +reincarnation. He felt that he was even more forbidding than on that +night when he had sent Brauer shivering from his presence. He doubted +whether Brauer would recognize him again, so subtle and marked was the +change. He hardly recognized himself, and the transformation was not +solely a matter of physical degeneration. No, there was something +indefinable in the quality of his decline. + +He fluttered about the town, at first aimlessly, like a defenseless +fledgling thrust before its time from the nest. He was weak and +tremulous and utterly miserable. Yet he felt compelled to go forward. +He must escape from Storch! _He must_! + +The docks, usually full of bustle, were silent and almost deserted. +Fred questioned a man loafing upon a pile of lumber. It appeared that +a strike of stevedores was the cause of this outward sign of +inactivity. Boats were being loaded quietly, but the process was +furtive and sullen. Occasionally, out of the wide expanse of brooding +indolence a knot of men would gather flockwise, and melt as quickly. +There was an ominous quality in the swiftness with which these +cloudlike groups congealed and disintegrated. The sinister blight of +repression was over everything--repressed desires, repressed joys, +repressed hatreds. It was almost as sad as the noonday silence of +Fairview. + +Fred slunk along in deep dejection. He wanted the color and life and +bustle of accomplishment. A slight activity before one of the docks +beguiled him from his depression. A passenger steamer was preparing +for its appointed flight south and a knot of blue-coated policemen +maintained a safe path from curb to dock entrance. Here was a touch of +liveliness and gayety--the released laughter of people bent on a +holiday, hopeful farewells called out heartily, taxicabs dashing up +with exaggerated haste. He was warming himself at the flame of this +genial pageant, when an opulent machine came rolling up to the curb. A +sudden surge of arrivals had pressed into service every available +porter, and the alighting occupants, a man and a woman, stood waiting +for some one to help them with their luggage. Fred stared with +impersonal curiosity. Then, as instinctively, he fell back. The man +was Axel Hilmer and the woman was Helen Starratt! His shrinking +movement must have singled him out for attention, because a policeman +began to hustle him on, and the next instant he was conscious that +Hilmer was calling in his voice of assured authority: + +"Here, there, don't send that man away! I need some one to help me +with these grips. This lady has got to catch the boat!" + +The officer touched his hat respectfully and Fred felt himself gently +impelled toward Helen Starratt. He did not have time to protest nor +shape any plan of action. Instead, he answered Hilmer's imperious +pantomime by grasping a suitcase in one hand and a valise in the other +and staggering after them toward the waiting vessel. + +They had arrived not a moment too soon; already the steamer was +preparing to cast off. In the confusion which followed, Fred had very +little sense of what was happening. He knew that a porter had relieved +him of his burden and that Helen Starratt had pressed a silver coin +into his hand. There was a scramble up the gangplank, a warning +whistle, a chorus of farewell, and then silence... He had a +realization that he had all but fainted--he looked up to find Hilmer +at his side. + +"What's the matter?" Hilmer was asking, brusquely. "Are you sick?" + +He roused himself with a mighty effort. + +"Yes." + +"You look half starved, too... Why don't you go to work? Or are you +one of those damned strikers?" + +"No," he heard himself answer. "I'm just a man who's ... who's up +against it." + +Hilmer took out a card and scribbled on it. + +"Here, look up my superintendent at the yard to-morrow. He'll give you +a job. There's plenty of work for those who want it. But don't lose +that card ... otherwise they won't let you see him." + +Fred took the proffered pasteboard and as he did so his fingers closed +over Hilmer's mangled thumb. He could feel himself trembling from head +to foot... He waited until Hilmer was gone. Then he crawled slowly in +the direction of the street again. Midway he felt some force impelling +him to a backward glance. He turned about--a green smile betrayed +Storch's sinister presence; Fred felt him swing close and whisper, +triumphantly: + +"That was your wife, wasn't it?" + +"How do you know?" + +"Never mind. Answer me--it was your wife?" + +"Yes." + +"How much did she give you?" + +Fred looked down at the coin in his hand. + +"Fifty cents." + +"Fifty cents ... for carrying two grips a hundred yards... Well, she +must have money... And she's taking a little trip south--for her +health, I suppose!... I wonder when friend Hilmer will follow?" + +Fred tried to draw away, but Storch's insinuating clutch was too firm. + +"Let me go!" he half begged and half commanded. "What business is all +this of yours?... Who has told you all this about me?" + +Storch continued to hang upon Fred's arm. "You told me yourself." + +"I told you? When?" + +"You were delirious for a good week... Don't you suppose you babbled +then?" + +"How much do you know?" + +"Nearly everything, _Fred Starratt_! Nearly everything." + +"Even my name!" + +"Yes, even that." + +Fred stood still for a moment and he closed both his eyes. + +"Let's go home!" he said, hopelessly. + +He heard Storch's malevolent chuckle answering him. + +When they arrived at Storch's shack Fred was exhausted. He threw +himself at once upon the couch, drawing the tattered quilts over his +head, and thus he lay all night in a semistupor. He heard the nightly +gathering drift in, and there were times when its babble reached him +in vague faraway echoes. He sensed its departure, too, and the fact +that Storch was flinging himself upon the pile of rags which served as +his bed. His sleep was broken by a harried idea that he was attempting +to catch a steamer which forever eluded him, trotting aimlessly up and +down a gangplank which led nowhere, picking up a litter that spilled +continually from a suitcase in his hand. It was not a dreaming state, +but the projection of the main events of the preceding day distorted +by fancy. + +Toward morning he fell into a heavy sleep. He did not hear Storch +leave. He woke at intervals during the day and relapsed into delicious +dozes. It was evening when he finally roused himself. He rose. He felt +extraordinarily refreshed, stronger, in fact, than he had been for +weeks. Storch came in shortly after. He had his inevitable loaf of +crisp French bread and a slice of cheese and in his hip pocket he had +smuggled a pint bottle of thin red wine. + +Fred laid the table with the simple utensils that such a meal required +and the two sat down. Storch poured out two glasses of wine. + +"I have had great fun to-day!" Storch said, gulping his claret with a +flourish. "They're on my track again. You should have seen how easily +I gave them the slip! As a matter of fact there is nothing duller than +a detective. He usually has learned every formula laid down for the +conduct of criminals and if you don't run true to form he gets sore." + +"You mean you're being watched--shadowed?" + +"Just that." + +"What do you intend to do?" + +Storch shrugged. "Being arrested and jailed is losing its novelty. +I'll stick around awhile longer until a pet job or two is +accomplished... I'm particularly anxious to see Hilmer winged... +What's your plan?" + +"Plan?... I have no plan. I can't imagine what you're talking about. I +know one thing, though ... I'm going to leave this place at once." + +Storch smiled evilly. "Going to start plunging on that capital your +wife threw your way yesterday?... Well, well, you've got more +initiative than I thought... But, one piece of advice, my friend--the +easiest way to walk into a trap is to suddenly try to change your +habits ... to rush headlong in an opposite direction. You'd better +stay here awhile and bluff it out. They'd gobble you in one mouthful." + +Fred made no reply. Indeed, the meal was finished in silence. + +Presently Storch's disciples began to drift in. The meeting lasted +almost until midnight. They were all at fever heat, strung tensely by +Storch's unerring pressure. At the last moment the man who had +previously put the question concerning Hilmer prodded Storch again. + +Storch fixed Fred suddenly with a gaze that pierced him through. A +silence fell upon the room. Fred could feel every eye turned his way. +He rose with a curious fluttering movement of escape. + +"There's one man in this room who has earned the honor of getting +Hilmer, if any man has," Storch said, finally, in an extraordinarily +cool and biting voice. "Losing a wife isn't of any great moment ... +but to be laughed at--that's another matter." + +The silence continued. Fred Starratt sat down again... Shortly after +this the gathering broke up. Storch went to sleep immediately. Fred +blew out the light. But he did not throw himself upon his couch this +time. Instead he opened the door softly and crept out. + +A bright moon was riding high in the sky. He went swiftly down the +lane and stood for a moment upon the edge of the cliff which plunged +down toward the docks. The city seemed like a frozen bit of +loveliness, waiting to be melted to fluid beauty by the fires of +morning. He must leave Storch at once, forever! He turned for a +backward glimpse of the house that had sheltered and almost entrapped +him. A figure darted in front of the lone street lamp and retreated +instantly. _Shadowed!_ Storch was right! + +Suddenly Fred began to whistle--gayly, loudly, with unquestionable +defiance. Then slowly, very slowly, he went back into the house and +closed the door... Storch was snoring contentedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The next afternoon Fred Starratt took the fifty-cent piece that he had +earned as flunky to his wife and spent every penny of it in a cheap +barber shop on the Embarcadero. He emerged with an indifferently +trimmed beard and his hair clipped into a semblance of neatness. He +felt better, in spite of his tattered suit and gaping footgear. +Hilmer's card was still in his pocket. + +His plans were hazy, nebulous, in fact. He was not quite sure as to +his next move. It seemed useless to attempt to flee from Storch's +shelter. He had no money and scarcely strength enough to tackle any +job that would be open to him. Even if he elected to become a strike +breaker he would have to qualify at least with brawn. The prospect of +snaring a berth from Hilmer had a certain fascination. It would be +interesting to stare defiantly at his enemy at close range, to speak +with him again man to man, to lure him into further bravados. And +then, if Storch's plans for Hilmer had any merits... He stopped short, +a bit frightened at the realization that the idea had presented itself +to him with such directness... He had a sudden yearning to talk to +some human being who would understand. If he could only see Ginger! + +He had a feeling that somehow she must have experienced every +exaltation and every degradation in the calendar. Tenderness and +passion and the gift of murder itself were ever the mixed language of +the street. He remembered the gesture he first had made to her almost +timid advances toward helping him. He had been outwardly polite, but +inwardly how scornful of her suggestions! And once he even had +hesitated to let her carry a message to his wife! Now he was ready to +stand or fall upon the bitter fruits of her experience. He felt, +curiously, on common ground with her. And yet there were certain +intangibilities he had never attempted to make positive. Somehow the +mere fact of her existence had enveloped him like warm currents of air +which he could feel, but not visualize. But at this moment he felt the +need of a contact more personal. Suddenly, out of a clear sky, it came +to him that Mrs. Hilmer could tell him something of Ginger's +whereabouts. Mrs. Hilmer? Well, why not? The more he thought the idea +over the more it appealed to him. He ended by turning his steps in the +direction of the Hilmer home. + +The maid who opened the door eyed him with more curiosity than +caution, and her protests that Mrs. Hilmer could see no one seemed +rather tentative and perfunctory. Fred had a curious feeling that she +was demanding a more or less conventional excuse for admitting him, +and in the end he flung out as a chance: + +"Tell Mrs. Hilmer I have a message from Sylvia Molineaux." + +The girl's pale-blue eyes sparkled with a curious glint of humor, and +without further protest she went away, and came back as swiftly with +an invitation for him to step inside. There was something +inexplainable about this maid who veiled her eagerness to admit him +with such transparencies. Even a fool would scarcely have left so +forbidding a character to dawdle about the living room while she went +to fetch her mistress. + +He had expected to find this room changed, and yet he was not prepared +for quite the quality of familiarity which it possessed. Most of the +old Hilmer knickknacks had been swept aside, their places taken by +bits that had once enlivened the Starratt household. Here was a silver +vase that he had bought Helen for an anniversary present, and there a +Whistler etching that had been their wedding portion. His easy-chair +was in a corner, and Helen's music rack filled with all the things she +used to play for his delight. And on the mantel, in a silver frame, +his picture, with a little bowl of fading flowers before it... He went +over and picked it up. Instinctively he glanced in the mirror just in +front of him... _Dead ... quite dead!_ No wonder his wife put flowers +before this photographic shrine... For a moment he had a swooning hope +that he had misjudged her ... that he had misread everybody ... that +they had done everything for him that they thought was best. But he +emerged from this brief deception with a shuddering laugh... He would +not have cared so much if his wife had swept him from her life +completely ... but to trample on him and still use his shadow as a +screen--this was too much! What really pallid creatures these women of +convention were! How little they were prepared to risk anything! He +could almost hear the comments that Helen inspired: + +"Poor Helen Starratt! She has had an awful time!... I don't know what +she would have done without the Hilmers... She's so devoted to Mrs. +Hilmer... I do think it's lovely that they can be together." + +He felt that he could have admired a Helen Starratt with the courage +of her primitive instincts. As it was, he was ashamed to own that he +experienced even rancor at her pretenses. + +He heard the sound of a wheeled chair coming toward the living room +and he made a pretense of staring aimlessly into the street. Presently +a sepulchral voice broke the silence. He turned--Mrs. Hilmer was +leaning forward in her chair, regarding him attentively, while the +maid stood a little to one side. He had expected to come upon a huddle +of blond plumpness, an inanimate mass of forceless flesh robbed of its +bovine suavity by inactivity. What he saw was a body thin to +emaciation and a face drawn into a tight-lipped discontent. The old +curves of flesh had melted, displaying the heaviness of the framework +which had supported them. The eyes were restless and glittering, the +once-plump hands shrunken into claws. + +"You ... you have a message from Sylvia Molineaux?" + +She tossed the question toward him with biting directness. Could it be +possible that this was the same woman who had purred so contentedly +over a receipt for corn pudding somewhat over a year ago? + +He moved a step nearer. "Yes ... but it is private." + +The maid made a slight grimace and put her hand protectingly upon Mrs. +Hilmer's chair. Mrs. Hilmer shifted about impatiently. + +"Never mind, Hilda," she snapped out. "I am not afraid." + +The maid shrugged and departed. + +"I have wanted to see her," Mrs. Hilmer went on, coldly. "But who +could I send? ... Few people understand her life." + +"Ah, then you have guessed?" + +"Guessed? ... She has told me everything." + +A shade of bitter malice crept into her face--the malice of a woman +who has learned truths and is no longer shocked by them. Fred Starratt +put his hat aside and he went up close to her. + +"I lied to get in here," he said, quickly. "I am looking for Sylvia +Molineaux myself." + +"Why don't you try the streets, then?" she flung out, venomously. + +He felt almost as if an insult had been hurled at _him_. He searched +Mrs. Hilmer's face. Something more than physical pain had harrowed the +woman before him to such deliberate mockery. + +"You, too!" he cried. "How you must have suffered!" + +She gave a little cackling laugh that made him shudder. "What about +yourself?" she queried. "You do not look like a happy man." + +"Would you be ... if ... Look at me closely, Mrs. Hilmer! Have you +ever seen me before?" + +He bent toward her. She took his face between her two clawlike +fingers. Her eyes were points of greedy flame. + +When she finally spoke her voice had almost a pensive quality to it. + +"You might have been Fred Starratt, _once_," she said, evenly. + +He rose to his feet. + +"I knew you were not dead," he heard her saying. "And I don't think +she felt sure, either... Ah, how I have worried her since that day! +Every morning I used to say: 'I dreamed of your husband last night. He +was swimming out of a black pool ... a very black pool.'" + +She chuckled at the memory of her sinister banter. So Helen Starratt +did not have everything her own way! There were weapons which even +weakness could flourish. + +"Where has she gone?" he asked, suddenly. + +"South, for a change... I've worried her sick with my black pool. +Whenever the doorbell would ring I would say as sweetly as I could, +'What if that should be your husband?' I drove her out with just +that... You've come just the right time to help. It couldn't have been +planned any better." + +She might have been Storch, masquerading in skirts, as she sat there +casting significantly narrow glances at him. He wondered why he had +come. He felt like a fly struggling from the moist depths of a cream +jug only to be thrust continually back by a ruthless force. Was +everybody bent on plunging him into the ultimate despair? He moved +back with a poignant gesture of escape. + +"You mustn't count on me, Mrs. Hilmer!" he cried, desperately. "I'm +nothing but a poor, spent man. I've lost the capacity for revenge." + +She smiled maliciously. "You see me here--helpless. And yet, in all +these months I've prayed for only one thing--to have strength enough +one day to rise in this chair and throw myself upon them both... Oh, +but I should like to kill them!... You talk about suffering ... but do +you know what it is to feel the caress of hands that are waiting to +lay hold of everything that was once yours?... I have six months more +to live. The doctor told me yesterday... Six months more, getting +weaker every day, until at last--" + +She brought her hands up in a vigorous flourish, which died pitifully. +He felt a contempt for his impotence. He dropped into a seat opposite +her. + + +"Tell me about it ... all ... from the beginning," he begged. + +She opened the floodgates cautiously at first ... going back to the +day when it had come upon her that she was a stranger in her own +house. ... Hilmer's moral lapses had never affronted her. She knew +men--or her father, to be exact, and his father before him. They were +as God made them, no better and no worse. Perhaps she had never +admitted it, but she would no doubt have felt a contempt for a man +without the capacity for truant inconstancies. But she had her place +from which it was inconceivable that she could be dislodged. ... On +that day when she had realized that this position was threatened she +had been put to one of two alternatives--open revolt or deceitful +acceptance. She had chosen the latter. In the end her choice was +justified, for she had begun to undermine Helen Starratt's content +with subtle purring which dripped a steady pool of disquiet. + +"She hasn't abandoned herself yet," she said, moving her claws +restlessly. "She's too clever for that... She wants _my_ place. +Hilmer's like all men--he won't have a mistress for a wife... And she +never would be any man's mistress while she saw a chance for the other +thing ... she's too--" + +She broke off suddenly, unable to find a word inclusive enough for all +the contempt she wished to crowd into it. He was learning things. She +could have ignored a frank courtesan with disdainful aloofness, but +discreetly veiled wantonness made her articulate. When she mentioned +Ginger her voice took a soft pity, mixed with certain condescension. +She was sympathetic, but there were still many things she could not +understand. + +"She used to come and pass me every morning," Mrs. Hilmer explained, +"and your wife would look at her from head to foot. One day I said, +'Who is that woman?' ... 'How should I know?' she answered me. And I +knew from her manner that she was lying. The next day I spoke +deliberately. After that it was easy... She is a strange girl. She +would come and read me such beautiful things and then go away to +_that_! ... 'How is it possible for one woman to be so good and so +bad?' I asked her once. And all she said was, 'How would you have +us--all devil or all saint?' ... During all this your wife said +nothing. When she _would_ see Sylvia Molineaux coming down the street +she would wheel my chair into a quiet corner and walk calmly into the +house... One day Sylvia Molineaux spoke of you. She told me the whole +story and in the end she said: 'I don't come here altogether to be +kind to you ... I come here to worry her. You cannot imagine how I +hate her!' The next morning I said to Helen Starratt, 'Did you know +that Sylvia Molineaux was a friend of your husband?' She had to answer +me civilly. There was no other way out. But after that I said, +whenever I could, 'Sylvia Molineaux tells me this,' or, 'Sylvia +Molineaux tells me that.' And I would give her the tattle of +Fairview... I know she could have strangled me, because she smiled too +sweetly. But she made no protest, no comment. She merely walked into +the house whenever Sylvia Molineaux appeared. But it worried her--yes, +almost as much as that black pool from which I had you swimming every +morning... And so it went on until the day after word had come that +you had been drowned. I had not seen Sylvia for some days. She came +down the street at the usual time. Helen was still up in her room ... +the maid had wheeled me out. She said nothing about what had happened. +But she looked very pale as she opened her book to read to me. In the +midst of all this your wife came out and stood for a moment upon the +landing. We looked up. She was in black. I gave one glance at Sylvia. +She closed her book with a bang and suddenly she was on her feet. +'Black! _Black_!' she cried out in a loud voice. 'How _can_ you!' Your +wife grew pale and walked quickly back into the house. Sylvia's face +was dreadful. 'I can't trust myself to come here again!' she said, +turning on me fiercely. 'Fancy, _she_ can wear black. The hussy ... +the...' No, I shall not repeat what else she said... But when she had +finished I caught her hand and I said: 'Come back and kill her! Come +back and kill her, Sylvia Molineaux!' She gave a cry and left me. I +have not seen her since." + +He sat staring at the wasted figure before him. Who would have +thought, seeing her in a happier day, that she could quiver with such +red-fanged energy! After all, she was more primitive even than Ginger. +She was like some limpid, prattling stream swollen to sudden fury by a +cloudburst of bitterness. + +He was recalled from his scrutiny of the terrible figure before him by +the sound of her voice, this time dropping into a monologue which held +a half-musing quality. Hilmer was puzzling her a bit. She could not +quite understand why a man accustomed to hew his way without restraint +should be possessing his soul in such patience before Helen Starratt's +provocative advances and discreet retreats. Either she was unable or +unwilling to fathom the fascination which a subtle game sometimes held +for a man schooled only in elemental approaches toward his goal. Was +he enthralled or confused or merely curious? And how long would he +continue to give his sufferance scope? How long would he pretend to +play the moth to Helen Starratt's fitful flamings? Mrs. Hilmer, +raising the question, answered it tentatively by a statement that held +a curious mixture of hope and fear. + +"Hilmer's going south himself next week... On business, he _says_." +She laughed harshly. "I wonder if they both think me quite a fool! ... +If he succeeds this time she's done for!" + +Fred Starratt stirred in his seat. + +"Don't deceive yourself," he found himself saying, coldly; "whatever +else my wife is, she's no fool... Remember, she wrote me a letter +every week. She looks over her cards before she plays them...A few +months more or less don't--" + +He broke off, suddenly amazed at his cruelty. Mrs. Hilmer's expression +changed from arrested exultation to fretful appeal. + +"I have only six months to live," she wailed. "If I could walk just +for a day...an hour...five minutes!" + +She covered her face in her hands. + +"What do you expect _me_ to do?" he asked, helplessly, with a certain +air of resignation. + +She took her fingers from her eyes. A crafty smile illumined her +features. "How should I know? ...What do men do in such cases?...She +will be gone two weeks. I pray God she may never enter this house +again. But that is in your hands." + +He felt suddenly cold all over, as if she had delivered an enemy into +his keeping. She still loved Axel Hilmer...loved him to the point of +hatred. What she wished for was his head upon a charger. With other +backgrounds and other circumstances crowding her to fury she would +have danced for her boon like the daughter of Herodias. As it was, she +sat like some pagan goddess, full of sinister silences, impotent, yet +unconquered. + +And again Storch's prophetic words swept him: + +"Like a field broken to the plow!" + +There was a terrible beauty in the phrase. Was sorrow the only +plowshare that turned the quiescent soul to bountiful harvest? Was it +better to reap a whirlwind than to see a shallow yield of unbroken +content wither to its sterile end? + + * * * * * + +He found Ginger's lodgings that night, in a questionable quarter of +the town, but she did not respond to his knock upon the door. + +"Why don't you try the streets, then?" Mrs. Hilmer's sneer recurred +with all its covert bitterness. + +The suggestion made him sick. And he had fancied all along that +ugliness had lost the power to move him ... that he was prepared for +the harsh facts of existence! + +He waited an hour upon the street corner, and when she came along +finally she was in the company of a man... He grew suddenly cold all +over. When they passed him he could almost hear his teeth chattering. +They disappeared, swallowed up in the sinister light of a beguiling +doorway. He stared for a moment stupidly, then turned and fled, +looking neither to the right nor to the left. He realized now that he +had reached the heights of bitterest ecstasy and the depths of +profound humiliation. + +Storch was alone, bending close to the lamp, reading, when Fred +Starratt broke in upon him. He did not lift his head. + +Fred went softly into a corner and sat down... Finally, after a while, +Storch laid his book aside. He gave one searching look at Fred's face. + +"Well, have you decided?" he asked, with calm directness. + +Fred's hands gave a flourish of resignation. "Yes... I'll do it!" he +answered in a whisper. + +Storch picked up his book again and went on reading. Presently he +lifted his eyes from the printed page as he said: + +"We won't have any more meetings here... Things are getting a little +too dangerous... How soon will the job be finished?" + +Fred rose, shaking himself. "Within two weeks, if it is finished at +all!" + +He went close to Storch and put a hand upon his shoulder. "You know +every bitter thing ... tell me, why does a man love?" + +Storch laughed unpleasantly. "To breed hatred!" + +Fred Starratt sat down again with a gesture of despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +From this moment on Fred Starratt's existence had the elements of a +sleepwalking dream. He felt himself going through motions which he was +powerless to direct. Already Storch and his associates were allowing +him a certain aloofness--letting him set himself apart with the +melancholy arrogance of one who had been chosen for a fanatical +sacrifice. + +Replying to Storch's question regarding his plans, he said, decidedly: + +"I leave all that to you... Give me instructions and I'll act. But I +want to know nothing until the end." + +"Within two weeks... Is there a special reason why ..." + +"Yes ... a very special reason." + +Storch turned away. But the next day he said, "Have you that card that +Hilmer gave you?" + +Fred yielded it up. + +Storch smiled his wide, green smile. Fred asked no questions, but he +guessed the plans. A spy was to be worked in upon Hilmer. + +Every morning now Fred Starratt found a silver dollar upon the +cluttered table at Storch's. He smiled grimly as he pocketed the +money. He was to have not a care in the world. Like a perfect youth of +the ancients marked for a sweet-scented offering to the gods, he was +to go his way in perfect freedom until his appointed time. There was +an element of grotesqueness in it all that dulled the edge of horror +which he should have felt. + +Sometimes he would sally forth in a noonday sun, intent on solitude, +but usually he craved life and bustle and the squalor of cluttered +foregrounds. With his daily dole of silver jingling in his pocket he +went from coffeehouse to coffeehouse or drowsed an hour or two in a +crowded square or stood with his foot upon the rail of some +emasculated saloon, listening to the malcontents muttering over their +draughts of watery beer. + +"Ah yes," he would hear these last grumble, "the rich can have their +grog... But the poor man--he can get it only when he is dying ... +providing he has the price." + +And here would follow the inevitable reply, sharpened by bitter +sarcasm: + +"But all this is for the poor man's good ... you understand. Men work +better when they do not indulge in follies... They will stop dancing +next. Girls in factories should not come to work all tired out on +Monday morning. They would find it much more restful to spend the time +upon their knees." + +It was not what they said, but the tone of it, that made Fred Starratt +shudder. Their laughter was the terrible laughter of sober men without +either the wit or circumstance to escape into a temperate gayety of +spirit. He still sat apart, as he had done at Fairview and again at +Storch's gatherings. He had not been crushed sufficiently, even yet, +to mingle either harsh mirth or scalding tears with theirs. But he was +feeling a passion for ugliness ... he wanted to drain the bitter +circumstance of life to the lees. He was seeking to harden himself to +his task past all hope of reconsideration. + +He liked especially to talk to the cripples of industry. Here was a +man who had been blinded by a hot iron bolt flung wide of its mark, +and another with his hand gnawed clean by some gangrenous product of +flesh made raw by the vibrations of a riveting machine. And there were +the men deafened by the incessant pounding of boiler shops, and one +poor, silly, lone creature whose teeth had been slowly eaten away by +the excessive sugar floating in the air of a candy factory. Somehow +this last man was the most pathetic of all. In the final analysis, his +calling seemed so trivial, and he a sacrifice upon the altar of a +petty vanity. Once he met a man weakened into consumption by the +deadly heat of a bakeshop. These men did not whine, but they exhibited +their distortions with the malicious pride of beggars. They demanded +sympathy, and somehow their insistence had a humiliating quality. He +used to wonder, in rare moments of reflection, how long it would take +for all this foul seepage to undermine the foundations of life. Or +would it merely corrode everything it came in contact with, very much +as it had corroded him? Only occasionally did he have an impulse to +escape from the terrible estate to which his rancor had called him. At +such intervals he would turn his feet toward the old quarter of the +town and stand before the garden that had once smiled upon his +mother's wooing, seeking to warm himself once again in the sunlight of +traditions. The fence, that had screened the garden from the nipping +wind which swept in every afternoon from the bay, was rotting to a +sure decline, disclosing great gaps, and the magnolia tree struggling +bravely against odds to its appointed blossoming. But it was growing +blackened and distorted. Some day, he thought, it would wither +utterly... He always turned away from this familiar scene with the +profound melancholy springing from the realization that the past was a +pale corpse lighted by the tapers of feeble memory. + +One afternoon, accomplishing again this vain pilgrimage, he found the +tree snapped to an untimely end. It had gone down ingloriously in a +twisting gale that had swept the garden the night before. + +In answer to his question, the man intent on clearing away the +wreckage said: + +"The wind just caught it right... It was dying, anyway." + +Fred Starratt retraced his steps. It was as if the old tree had stood +as a symbol of his own life. + +He never went back to view the old garden again, but, instead, he +stood at midnight upon the corner past which Ginger walked with such +monotonous and terrible fidelity. He would stand off in the shadows +and see her go by, sometimes alone, but more often in obscene company. +And in those moments he tasted the concentrated bitterness of life. +Was this really a malicious jest or a test of his endurance? To what +black purpose had belated love sprung up in his heart for this woman +of the streets? And to think that once he had fancied that so +withering a passion was as much a matter of good form as of cosmic +urging! There had been conventions in love--and styles and seasons! +One loved purity and youth and freshness. Yes, it had been as easy as +that for him. Just as it had been as easy for him to choose a nice and +pallid calling for expressing his work-day joy. He could have +understood a feeling of sinister passion for Sylvia Molineaux and +likewise he could have indulged it. But the snare was more subtle and +cruel than that. He was fated to feel the awe and mystery and beauty +of a rose-white love which he saw hourly trampled in the grime of the +streets. He had fancied once that love was a matter of give and take +... he knew now that it was essentially an outpouring ... that to love +was sufficient to itself ... that it could be without reward, or wage, +or even hope. He knew now that it could spring up without sowing, +endure without rain, come to its blossoming in utter darkness. And yet +he did not have the courage of these revelations. He felt their +beauty, but it was the beauty of nakedness, and he had no skill to +weave a philosophy with which to clothe them. If it had been possible +a year ago for him to have admitted so cruel a love he knew what he +would have done. He would have waited for her upon this selfsame +street corner and shot her down, turning the weapon upon himself. Yes, +he would have been full of just such empty heroics. Thus would he have +expressed his contempt and scorn of the circumstance which had tricked +him. But now he was beyond so conventional a settlement. + +The huddled meetings about Storch's shattered lamp were no more, but +in small groups the scattered malcontents exchanged whispered +confidences in any gathering place they chanced upon. Fred Starratt +listened to the furtive reports of their activities with morbid +interest. But he had to confess that, so far, they were proving empty +windbags. The promised reign of terror seemed still a long way off. +There were moments even when he would speculate whether or not he was +being tricked into unsupported crime. But he raised the question +merely out of curiosity... Word seemed to have been passed that he was +disdainful of all plans for setting the trap which he was to spring. +But one day, coming upon a group unawares in a Greek coffeehouse on +Folsom Street, he caught a whispered reference to Hilmer. Upon the +marble-topped table was spread a newspaper--Hilmer's picture smiled +insolently from the printed page. The gathering broke up in quick +confusion on finding him a silent auditor. When they were gone he +reached for the newspaper. A record-breaking launching was to be +achieved at Hilmer's shipyard within the week. The article ended with +a boastful fling from Hilmer to the effect that his plant was running +to full capacity in spite of strikes and lockouts. Fred threw the +paper to the floor. A chill enveloped him. He had caught only the +merest fragments of conversation which had fallen from the lips of the +group he had surprised, but his intuitions had been sharpened by +months of misfortune. He knew at once what date had been set for the +consummation of Storch's sinister plot. He rose to his feet, shivering +until his teeth chattered. He felt like a man invested with all the +horrid solemnity of the death watch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +That night Storch confirmed Fred's intuitions. He said, pausing a +moment over gulping his inevitable bread and cheese: + +"I have planned everything for Saturday." + +Fred cut himself a slice of bread. "So I understand," he said, coldly. + +"Who told you?" + +"Your companions are great gossips ... and I have ears." + +The insolence in Fred's tone made Storch knit his brows. + +"Well, knowing so much, you must be ready for details now," he flung +out. + +Fred nodded. + +Storch lighted his pipe and glowered. "The launching is to take place +at noon. Hilmer has planned to arrive at the yards promptly at eleven +forty-five at the north gate. Everything is ready, down to the last +detail." + +"Including the bomb?" Fred snapped, suddenly. + +"Including the bomb," Storch repeated, malevolently, caressing the +phrase with a note of rare affection. "It is the most skillful +arrangement I have seen in a long time ... in a kodak case. By the way +... are you accurate at heaving things?... You are to stand upon the +roof of a row of one-story stores quite near the entrance and promptly +at the precise minute--" + +"Ah, a time bomb!" + +"Naturally." + +"And if Hilmer should be late?" + +"He is always on time... And, besides, there is a special reason. He +wants the launching accomplished on the stroke of noon." + +"And if he comes too early?" + +"Impossible. He went south last week ... you knew that, of course. And +he doesn't get into San Francisco until late that morning. He is to be +met at Third and Townsend streets and go at once to Oakland in his +machine... There will be four in the party ... perhaps six." + +Fred Starratt stood up slowly, repressing a desire to leap suddenly to +his feet. He walked up and down the cluttered room twice. Storch +watched him narrowly. + +"Six in the party?" Fred echoed. "Any women?" + +Storch rubbed his palms together. "There may be two ... providing your +wife comes back with him... Mrs. Hilmer sent for her." + +"Mrs. Hilmer!" + +Storch smiled his usual broad smile, exhibiting his green teeth. + +"She developed a whim to attend the launching... Naturally she wished +her _dearest_ friend with her." + +Fred Starratt sat down. He was trembling inwardly, but he knew +instinctively that he must appear nonchalant and calm. He guessed at +once that it would not do for him to betray the fact that suddenly he +realized how completely he had been snared. Yet his trepidation must +have communicated itself, for Storch leaned forward with the +diabolical air of an inquisitor and said: + +"Does it matter in the least whether there is one victim or six?" + +Fred managed to reply, coolly, "Not the slightest ... but I have been +thinking in terms of one." + +Storch smiled evilly. "That would have been absurd in any case. There +are always a score or so of bystanders who ..." + +"Yes, of course, of course. Just so!" Fred interrupted. + +Storch laid his pipe aside and drained a half-filled glass of red wine +standing beside his plate. + +"I think I've turned a very neat trick," he said, smacking his lips in +satisfaction. "It's almost like a Greek tragedy--Hilmer, his wife, and +yours in one fell swoop, and at your hand. There is an artistic unity +about this affair that has been lacking in some of my other triumphs." + +Fred rose again, and this time he turned squarely on Storch as he +asked: + +"How long have you and Mrs. Hilmer been plotting this together?" + +Storch's eyes widened in surprise. "You're getting keener every +moment... Well, you've asked a fair question. I planted that maid in +the house soon after I knew the story." + +"After the fever set me to prattling?" + +"Precisely." + +Fred Starratt stood motionless for a moment, but presently he began to +laugh. + +Storch looked annoyed, then rather puzzled. Fred took the hint and +fell silent. For the first time since his escape from Fairview he was +experiencing the joy of alert and sharpened senses. He had ceased to +drift. From this moment on he would be struggling. And a scarcely +repressed joy rose within him. + +That night Fred Starratt did not sleep. His mind was too clear, his +senses too alert. He was like a man coming suddenly out of a mist into +the blinding sunshine of some valley sheltered from the sea. + +"Does it matter in the least whether there is one victim or six?" + +He repeated Storch's question over and over again. Yes, it did +matter--why, he could not have said. But even in a vague way there had +been a certain point in winging Hilmer. Hilmer had grown to be more +and more an impersonal effigy upon which one could spew forth malice +and be forever at peace. He had fancied, too, that Hilmer was his +enemy. Yet, Hilmer had done nothing more than harry him. It was Storch +who had captured him completely. + +It was not that Storch was unable to discover a score of men ready and +willing to murder Hilmer, but he was finding an ironic diversion in +shoving a weary soul to the brink. He liked to confirm his faith in +the power of sorrow and misery and bitterness ... he liked to triumph +over that healing curse of indifference which time accomplished with +such subtlety. He took a delight in cutting the heart and soul out of +his victims and reducing them to puppets stuffed with sawdust, +answering the slightest pressure of his hands. How completely Fred +Starratt understood all this now! And in the blinding flash of this +realization he saw also the hidden spring that had answered Storch's +pressure. Storch may have been prodding for rancor, but he really had +touched the mainspring of all false and empty achievement--vanity. + +"Losing a wife isn't of such moment ... but to be laughed at--that is +another matter!" + +The words with which Storch had held him up to the scorn of the crowd +swept him now with their real significance. He had been afraid to seem +uncourageous. + +Thus also had Mrs. Hilmer prodded him with her sly "What do men do in +such cases?" + +Thus, also, had the terrible realization of his love for Sylvia +Molineaux been turned to false account with a wish to still the +stinging wounds of pride forever. + +He had made just such empty gestures when he had battled for an +increase in salary, using Hilmer's weapons instead of his own, and +again when he had committed himself to Fairview with such a theatrical +flourish. He had performed then, he was performing now, with an eye to +his audience. And his audience had done then, and was doing now, what +it always did--treated him with the scorn men feel for any and all who +play down to them. + +Already Storch was sneering with the contempt of a man too sure of his +power. He would not have risked the details of his plan otherwise. And +deep down Fred Starratt knew that the first duty to his soul was to be +rid of Storch at any cost--after that, perhaps, it would not matter +whether he had one or six or a hundred victims marked for destruction. +He was afraid of Storch and he had now to prove his courage to +himself. + +It was at the blackest hour before dawn that this realization grew to +full stature. He raised himself upon his elbow, listening to the heavy +breathing of Storch. He rose cautiously. Now was his chance. He would +escape while his conviction was still glistening with the freshness of +crystallization. Moving with a catlike tread toward the door, he put +his hand upon the knob. It turned noisily. He heard Storch leap to his +feet. He stood quite still until Storch came up to him. + +"Go back to bed ... where you belong!" Storch was commanding, coolly, +with a shade of menace in his voice. + +He shuffled back to his couch. He was no longer afraid of Storch, but +a certain craftiness suddenly possessed him. + +Presently he heard a key turn and he felt himself to be completely in +the hands of his jailer. Yet the locked door became at once the symbol +of both Storch's strength and weakness. Storch was determined to have +either his body or his soul. And, at that moment, Fred Starratt made +his choice. + +Next morning Storch was up early and bustling about with unusual +clatter. + +"Get up!" he cried, gayly, to Fred. "Do you realize this is Friday?... +There are a thousand details to attend to." + +Fred pretended to find Storch's manner infectious. He had never seen +anyone so eager, so thrilling with anticipation. + +"I've got to buy you a new outfit complete," Storch went on, filling +the coffeepot with water. "And you must be shaved and shorn and made +human-looking again. Rags are well enough to wrap discontent in ... +but one should have a different make-up for achievement... What was +the matter last night?" + +"Oh, a bit of panic, I guess," Fred returned, nonchalantly. "But I'm +all right this morning." + +Storch rubbed his hands in satisfaction, and he smiled continually. + +They went out shortly after nine o'clock and in San Francisco's embryo +ghetto at McAllister and Fillmore streets they bought a decent-looking +misfit suit and a pair of second-hand shoes, to say nothing of a +bargain in shirts. A visit to a neighboring barber followed. Storch +permitted Fred to enter the shop alone, but he stood upon the corner +and waited. + +When the barber finished, Fred was startled. Standing before the +mirror he gazed at his smooth-shaven cheek again and trembled. It was +like a resurrection. Even Storch was startled. Fred caught a +suggestion of doubt in the gaze his jailer threw at him. It was almost +as if Storch said: + +"You are not the man I thought you." + +After that Fred had a sense that Storch watched him more narrowly. +Impulses toward forcing the issue at once assailed Fred, but he was +too uncertain as to the outcome. He decided that the safest thing was +to wait until the very last moment, trying to prolong the issue until +it would be too late for Storch to lay other plans. + +They went back to the shack for a bite of lunch. After they had eaten, +Fred put on his new clothes. He felt now completely cut off from the +cankerous life which had been so deliberately eating its way into his +philosophy. Could it be possible that clothes did in some mysterious +way make the man? Would his unkempt beard and gaping shoes and +tattered clothing have kept him nearer the path of violence? + +A little after three o'clock in the afternoon a man came to the door +and handed Storch a carefully wrapped package. They did not exchange a +word. Storch took the package and stowed it away in a corner, covering +it with a ragged quilt. + +"That is the bomb!" flashed through Fred's mind. + +From that moment on this suggestive corner of the room was filled with +a mysterious fascination. It was like living on the edge of a volcano. + +Later in the day he said to Storch: + +"Are you sure the maker of that bomb was skillful?" + +Storch bared his green teeth. + +"One is sure of nothing!" he snapped back. + +Fred tried to appear nonchalant. "Aren't you rather bold, having this +thing delivered in broad daylight?" + +"What have we to fear?" + +"I thought we were being watched." + +Storch threw back his head and roared with laughter. "_You_ have been +watched ... if that's what you mean. I never believe in taking any +unnecessary chances." + +Fred made no reply. But a certain contempt for Storch that hitherto +had been lacking rose within him. He had always fancied certain +elements of bigness in this man in spite of his fanaticism. Suddenly +he was conscious that his silence had evoked a subtle uneasiness in +Storch. At this moment he laughed heartily himself as he rose from his +seat, slapping Storch violently on the back as he cried: + +"Upon my word, Storch, you're a master hand! No matter what happens +now, at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that I was +perfectly stage-managed." + +They kept close to the house until nearly midnight. At a few moments +to twelve Storch drew a flask of smuggled brandy from his hip pocket. + +"Here, take a good drink!" he said, passing the bottle to Fred. + +Fred did as he was bidden. Storch followed suit. + +"Would you like a turn in the open?" Storch inquired, not unkindly. + +"Yes," Fred assented. + +They put on their hats. When they were outside Storch made a little +gesture of surrender. "You lead ... I'll follow," he said, +indulgently. + +The night was breathless--still touched with the vagrant warmth of an +opulent April day. The spring of blossoming acacias was over, but an +even fuller harvest of seasonal unfolding was sweeping the town. A +fragrant east wind was flooding in from the blossom-starred valleys, +and vacant lots yielded up a scent of cool, green grass. A +soul-healing quality released itself from the heavily scented +air--hidden and mysterious beauties of both body and spirit that sent +little thrills through Fred Starratt. He had never been wrapped in a +more exquisite melancholy--not even during the rain-raked days at +Fairview. He knew that Storch was by his side, but, for the moment, +this sinister personality seemed to lose its power and he felt Monet +near him. It was as it had been during those days upon Storch's couch +with death beckoning--the nearer he approached the dead line, the more +distinctly he saw Monet. To-night his vision was clouded, but a keener +intuition gave him the sense of Monet's presence. He knew that he was +standing close to another brink. + +For a time he surrendered completely to this luxury of feeling, as if +it strengthened him to find stark reality threaded with so much +haunting beauty. But he discovered himself suddenly yearning for the +poetry of life rather than the poetry of death. He wanted to live, +realizing completely that to-morrow might seal everything. He was not +afraid, but he was alive, very much alive--so alive that he found +himself rising triumphant from sorrow and shame and disillusionment. + +He came out of his musings with a realization that Storch was +regarding him with that puzzled air which his moods were beginning to +evoke. And almost at the same time he was conscious that their feet +were planted upon that selfsame corner past which Ginger walked at +midnight. He put a hand on Storch's shoulder. + +"Let us wait here a few moments," he said. "I am feeling a little +tired." + +A newsboy bellowing the latest edition of the paper broke an unusual +and almost profound stillness. + +"There doesn't seem to be many people about to-night," Fred observed, +casually. + +Storch sneered. "To-day is Good Friday, I believe... Everyone has +grown suddenly pious." + +Fred turned his attention to the windows of a tawdry candy shop, +filled with unhealthy-looking chocolates and chromatic sweets. He was +wondering whether Ginger would pass again to-night. His musings were +answered by the suggestive pressure of Storch's hand on his. + +"There's a skirt on the Rialto, anyway," Storch was saying, with +disdain. + +Fred kept his gaze fixed upon the candy-shop window. He was afraid to +look up. Could it be that Ginger was passing before him, perhaps for +the last time? He caught the vague reflection of a feminine form in +the plate-glass window. A surge of relief swept him--at least she was +alone! + +"She's looking back!" Storch volunteered. + +Fred turned. The woman had gained the doorway of the place where she +lodged and she was standing with an air of inconsequence as if she had +nothing of any purpose on her mind except an appreciation of the +night's dark beauty. He looked at her steadily ... It _was_ Ginger! + +She continued to stand, immobile, wrapped in the sinister patience of +her calling. Fred could not take his eyes from her. + +"She's waiting for you," Storch said. + +Fred smiled wanly. + +"Do you want to go? ... If you do I'll wait--here!" + +Fred tried to conceal his conflicting emotions. He did not want to +betray his surprise at Storch's sudden and irrational indiscretion. + +"Well, if you don't mind," he began to flounder, "I'll--" + +Storch gave him a contemptuous shove. "Go on ... go on!" he cried, +almost impatiently, and the next moment Fred Starratt found himself at +Ginger's side... For an instant she stood transfixed as she lifted her +eyes to his. + +"Don't scream!" he commanded between his locked lips. "I don't want +that man to know that--" + +She released her breath sharply. "Shall we go in?" she whispered. + +He nodded. Storch was pretending to be otherwise absorbed, but Fred +knew that he had been intent on their pantomime. + +Her room was bare, pitifully bare, swept clean of all the tawdry +fripperies that one might expect from such an environment and +circumstance. She motioned him wearily to an uncompromising chair, +standing herself with an air of profound resignation as she leaned +against the cheaply varnished bureau. + +"Is this the first time--" she began, and stopped short. + +"No ... I've watched you every night for nearly two weeks." + +"What was the idea?" she threw out, with an air of banter. + +He stood up suddenly. "I wanted to see how much I _could_ stand," he +answered. + +She closed her eyes for a moment ... her immobility was full of +tremulous fear and hope. + +"Ah!" she said, finally. "So you did care, after all!" + +"Yes ... when it was too late." + +She crossed over to him, putting one wan finger on his trembling lips +in protest. She did not speak, but he read the thrilling simplicity of +her silence completely. "Love is never too late!" was what her +eloquent gesture implied. + +He thrust her forward at arm's length, searching her eyes. "You are +right," he said, slowly. "And yet it can be bitter!" + +She released herself gently. "You shouldn't have watched me like that +... it wasn't fair." + +"I didn't think you would ever know... And that first night I didn't +intend to watch ... not really. After that it got to be habit... +You've no idea the capacity for suffering an unhappy man can acquire." + +She took off her hat and flung it on the bed. "What made you follow me +to-night?" + +"You came out of a clear sky ... when I needed you most ... as you +have always done... I didn't think I could ever escape that man +waiting for me below--not even for an instant... To-morrow, at this +time, I may be dead ... or worse." + +"Dead?" + +"To-morrow, at noon, I'm scheduled to blow up Axel Hilmer... There +will be five others in the party ... my wife and his among them." + +Her body was rigid ... only her lips moved. "You are going to do it?" + +"No." + +She passed a fluttering hand over her forehead. "But you spoke of +death..." + +He smiled bitterly. "Either I shall be dead--or the man waiting for me +on the street corner... I shall not tell him my decision until the +last moment. I don't want to give him the chance to work in an +understudy or complete the job himself... Will you go to Hilmer +to-morrow and warn him?... He arrives from the south at the Third and +Townsend depot somewhere around eleven o'clock. Advise him to postpone +the launching. And have the approaches to the shipyards combed for +radicals... Let them watch particularly for a man with a kodak on the +roof of the stores opposite the north gate." + +She picked up her hat quickly. "I'll go out now and warn the police +... indirectly. I have ways, you know." + +He put out a restraining hand. "No ... that's risky. My friend Storch +has spies everywhere. He's giving me a little rope here ... he may be +waiting just to see how foolishly I use it. If you lie low until +to-morrow there will be less of a chance of things going wrong... +Besides, I owe this man something. He's fed and sheltered me. I'm +going to give him an even break. You would do that much, I'm sure." + +She threw her arms suddenly about him. "Let me go down to him," she +whispered. "Perhaps I can persuade him. Maybe he'll go away, then, and +leave you in peace." + +He stroked her hair. "No, I can't escape him now. Sooner or later he +would get me. You don't understand his power. All my life I've dodged +issues. But now I've run up against a stone wall. Either I scale it or +I break my neck in the attempt." + +She shivered as if his touch filled her with an exquisite fear as she +drew away. + +"I'm wondering if you are quite real," she said, wistfully. "Sometimes +I've thought of you as dead, and, again, it didn't seem possible... +Always at night upon the street I've really looked for you. In every +face that stared at me I had a hope that your eyes would answer +mine... I think I've looked for you all my life... It isn't always +necessity that drives a woman to the streets... Sometimes it is the +search for happiness... I suppose you can't understand that..." + +"I understand anything you tell me _now_!" + +She went over to him again and took his hand. "You _are_ real, aren't +you?... Because I couldn't bear it ... if I were to wake up and find +this all a dream... Nothing else matters ... nothing in my whole life +... but this moment. And when it is over nothing will ever matter ... +again." + +He sat there stroking her hand foolishly. There were no words with +which to answer her... Presently she put her lips close to his and he +kissed her, and he knew then that only a woman who had tasted the +bitter wormwood of infamy could put such purity into a kiss. How many +times she must have hungered for this moment! How many times must she +have felt her soul rising to her lips only to find it betrayed! + +He loved her for her words and he loved her for her silence. Once he +would have sat waiting passionately for her to defend herself. He +would have been tricked into believing that any course of action +_could_ be justified. But she brought no charges, she placed no blame, +she offered no excuse. "It isn't always necessity that drives a woman +to the streets!" It took a great soul to be that honest. She might +have reproached him, too, for his neglect of her--for his fear to take +his happiness on any terms. But all she had said was, "You shouldn't +have watched me like that ... it wasn't fair." + +He rose, finally, shaking himself into the world of reality again. + +"I must be going now," he said, quietly. "Storch will begin to be +impatient." + +She picked a gilt hairpin from the floor. "Let me see if I've got +everything straight. To-morrow at eleven o'clock I am to see Hilmer +and tell him to postpone the launching. And to watch at the north gate +for a man with a kodak... And then?" + +He reached for his hat. "If you do not hear from me you might come and +look me up. I'll be at Storch cottage on Rincon Hill ... at the foot +of Second Street. Anyone about can tell you which house is his." + +Her lips were an ashen gray. "You mean you'll be there ... _dead?_" + +"If you are afraid ..." + +"_Afraid!_" She drew herself up proudly. + +"Well ... there is danger for you, too... I should have thought of +that!" + +"You do not understand even now." She went and stood close to him. "I +_love_ you ... can't you realize that?" + +He felt suddenly abashed, as if he stood convicted of being a cup too +shallow to hold her outpouring. + +"Good-by," he whispered. + +She closed her eyes, lifting her brow for his waiting kiss. The heavy +perfume of her hair seemed to draw his soul to a prodigal outpouring. +He found her lips again, clasping her close. + +"Good-by," he heard her answer. + +And at that moment he felt the mysterious Presence that had swept so +close to him on that heartbreaking Christmas Eve at Fairview. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Storch was standing at the lodging-house door when Fred stepped into +the street. + +"Well, what now?" Storch inquired, with mock politeness. + +"Let's go home!" Fred returned, emphatically. + +Almost as soon as the phrase had escaped him he had a sense of its +grotesqueness. Home! Yes, he had to admit that he felt a certain +affection for that huddled room which had witnessed so much spiritual +travail. Somehow its dusty rafters seemed saturated with a human +quality, as if they had imprisoned all the perverse longings and +bitter griefs of the company that once sat in the dim lamplight and +chanted their litany of hate. He never really had been a part of this +company ... he never really had been a part of any company. At the +office of Ford, Wetherbee & Co., at Fairview, at Storch's gatherings, +he had mingled with his fellow-men amiably or tolerantly or +contemptuously, as the case might be, but never with sympathy or +understanding. He knew now the reason--he always had judged them, even +to the last moment, using the uncompromising foot rule of prejudice, +inherent or acquired. In the old days he had thought of these +prejudices as standards, mistaking aversions for principles. He had +tricked his loves, his hates, his preferences in a masquerade of +pretenses ... he had labels for everybody and he pigeonholed them with +the utmost promptitude. A man was a murderer or a saint or a +bricklayer, and he was nothing else. But at this moment, standing in +the light-flooded entrance to Ginger's lodgings, waiting for Storch to +lead him back to his figurative cell, he knew that a man could be a +murderer and a saint and a bricklayer and a thousand other things +besides. And if he were to sit again about that round table of +violence and despair he felt that, while he might find much to stir +hatred, he would never again give scope to contempt. + +"You want to go home, eh?" Storch was repeating, almost with a note of +obscene mirth. "Well, our walk has been quieting, at all events." + +Fred Starratt said nothing. He was not in a mood for talk. But when +they were inside the house again, with the cracked lamp shade spilling +a tempered light about the room, he turned to Storch and said, +quietly: + +"I sha'n't go to sleep to-night, Storch... You throw yourself on the +couch; I've kept you from it long enough." + +Storch made a movement toward the door. + +"Don't bother to lock it ... I'm not going to run away. I'm not quite +a fool! I know that if I did try anything like that I wouldn't get +farther than the edge of the cliff." + +Storch gave him a puzzled glance. Fred could see that he was +uncertain, baffled... But in the end he turned away from the unlocked +door with a shrug. + +Fred Starratt smiled with inner satisfaction. He was glad that he had +come back to give Storch that "even break." It was something of an +achievement to have compelled Storch's faith in so slight a thing as a +literal honesty. + +But Storch didn't take the couch. He threw his coat aside and crept +into his wretched pile of quilts on the floor, as he said: + +"You may want to snatch forty winks or so before the night is over." + +There was a warm note in his voice, a bit of truant fatherliness that +added an element of grotesqueness to the situation. He might have used +the same words and tone to a son about to take the highroad to fortune +on the morrow. Or to a lad determined to start upon a sunrise fishing +trip, and impatient of the first flush of dawn. After all, it took +great simplicity to approach the calamitous moments of life through +the channels of the commonplace. + +Presently Storch was snoring with the zest which he always brought to +sleep. The night air had chilled the room past the point of comfort +and the lamp seemed to make little headway with its thin volume of +ascending warmth. Fred wrapped himself in a blanket and sat half +shivering in the gloom. At first, detached and unrelated thoughts ran +through his brain, but gradually his musing assumed a coherence. +To-morrow, at this time, he might be either a hunted murderer or a +victim himself of Storch's desperation. In any case, he would be +furnishing the text for many a newspaper sermon. How eagerly they +would trace his downfall, sniffing out the salacious bits for the +furtive enjoyment of the chemically pure! For there would be salacious +bits. Had he not spent the preceding night in the company of a fallen +woman? One by one the facts would be brought out, added to and +subtracted from, until the whole affair was a triumph of the transient +story-teller art, unrelieved by the remotest flash of understanding. +They would interview his former employers first. Mr. Ford would say: + +"A steady, conscientious, faithful employee until he became bitten +with parlor radicalism." + +And Brauer, rather frightened, yet garrulous, would add, for want of +anything better: + +"An honest partner until he began hitting the booze." + +There would be his wife, too. "I did all I could. Stood by him to the +last ... even when I discovered that there was another woman." + +The authorities at Fairview would doubtless add their note to the +general chorus: + +"An exceptional patient. He seemed to have planned deliberately to get +our confidence and then betray it... He was directly responsible for +Felix Monet's death. Without his influence Monet would never have +thought of escape." + +And in summing up, the police would declare: + +"A bad actor from the word go. One of the sort who reach a certain +point in respectability and then run amuck. A danger to the community +because of his brains." + +But what of Hilmer? Fred Starratt had a feeling that Hilmer would be +discreet to a point of silence. + +He could see every printed phrase as plainly as if he were reading it +all himself. How many times in the old days had he not perused some +such story over his morning coffee, thanking himself unconsciously +that he was not as other men! How perfectly and smugly he had played +the Pharisee for his own delight and satisfaction! He had not bothered +then to cry his virtues aloud in the market place or to thank God +publicly for his salvation. No, he was too self-sufficient to take the +trouble to advertise his worthiness. + +To-night he was on the brink of disaster, and yet he found himself +shuddering at the colorless fate to which his complacence might have +condemned him. To have gone on forever in a state of drowsy +contentment ... to have been surrounded on all sides by the thunderous +cataracts of life and caught only the pretty significance of rainbows +through the spray ... to have remained untouched by any and every +primitive impulse and feeling--he could not now imagine anything more +tragic. And yet, to-morrow, people would hold up the desirability of +his former estate, pointing to him in warning for the soft-armed +profit of an oncoming generation. He saw himself as he might have +been, going on to the end of time in the service of Ford, Wetherbee & +Co., rising from map clerk to counter man, to special agent, perhaps +even to a managership, writing sharp or conciliatory letters to agents +according to their importance, trimming office expense and shaving +salaries, heckling green office boys, and, his workday ended, going +home to _The Literary Digest_ and Helen, fresh from the triumphs of +the golf links or the card table. Yes, no doubt Helen would have +matched his own rise in fortune with equal gentility. Perhaps he might +have taken an hour between office closing and dinner to wield a golf +club himself ... bringing back a desirable guest to dinner or +proposing through the telephone to Helen that they dine at the Palace +or St. Francis... Yes, even at best his imagination could not do more +with the material in hand. Indeed, he knew that he had crowded the +very most that was possible on so small a canvas. + +This, then, had been his unconscious life plan, his unvoiced fate. +Thus had he sketched it hazily, as a teller of tales sketches the plot +of a story, such and such a sum being the total of all the characters +and circumstances. But as he had gone on developing it, suddenly a new +character had appeared to change the final figures--a wrench thrown +into the wheel of continuity ... a wrench that bore the name of Axel +Hilmer... He felt no bitterness now for the man. Had he ever felt it? + +Axel Hilmer had long ceased to be a living personality to Fred +Starratt. Instead, he had taken on almost the significance of a +strange divinity ... an eternal questioner. At their very first +meeting he had started the ferment in Fred Starratt's soul with the +directness of his interrogations. He was not a man who declared his +own faiths ... he merely asked you to prove yours. The questions he +had asked Fred Starratt on that first night had been insignificant in +themselves. Why was it ridiculous for a butcher to want an eight-hour +day? Why should one have the firm's interest at heart? And yet the +sparks from such verbal flint stones had kindled a revolt that had +wrecked Fred Starratt's complacence. + +One's sight becomes strengthened to destructive ideas by gradual +perception. And ideas of any kind are destructive flashed on +consciousness unawares. Fred had thought at first that Hilmer had but +opened his eyes to things standing in his range of vision, when, as a +matter of fact, Hilmer had merely loaned him his spectacles. +Everything he had seen from that first moment had been through +Hilmer's medium. A wise man would have proceeded slowly, building +himself up for the struggle. But Fred Starratt had had all the wistful +enthusiasm of a fool seeking to achieve power overnight. Yes, only a +fool could have been ashamed of his heritage. And when Hilmer had +placed him calmly in the ranks of the middle class the wine of content +had turned suddenly sour. A year ago his efforts were being directed +at escape from so contemptuous a characterization; to-night he was +content to acknowledge the impeachment and find a pride in the +circumstance. And, as he sat there shivering in the gloom of Storch's +cracked lamp, he had a vision of this scorned company to which he +unquestionably belonged, sterile and barren in the glare of accepted +standards, broken gradually by the plowshare of disillusionment and +harrowed to great potentialities by a deeper sense of their faiths and +needs. Yes, he had a conviction that what could take place in one soul +could take place in the soul of the mass ... he had not changed his +standards so much as he had proved them. The shape and color and +perfume of love and loyalty and faith had not been altered for him, +but he could discover their blossoming among the shadowy places. + +At a black hour, before the first greenish glow was quickening the +east, he tiptoed and stood gazing down at Storch. He had never seen a +face more placid and untroubled. He felt that any man must have an +extraordinary sense of self-righteousness to yield so completely to +serenity in the face of deliberate crime. But Storch was of the stuff +of which all fanatics were made. Ends to him always justified means. +Of such were the Inquisitors of Spain, the Puritans of the +Reformation, the radicals of to-day. They had neither doubts nor fears +nor pity, and the helmets of their faith were a screen behind which +they hid their overweening egotism. They were ever seeking to entrap +humanity and humanity was forever in the end eluding them. And if +Hilmer were the eternal questioner made flesh, the gamekeeper beating +the furtive birds from the brush, this man Storch was the eternal +hunter, at once patient and relentless for his quarry. + +And now the hunter slept with a smile on his lips. Of what could he be +dreaming? Was it possible to dream of smile-fashioning themes with +potential destruction within a stone's throw? In a corner of this +room, in a well-packed square case, reposed the force that, once set +in motion at the proper or miscalculated moment, could hurl both +Storch and Fred Starratt to eternity, and yet Storch slept +undisturbed. Well, was not the broader canvas of life full of just +such profound faith or profound indifference? Did not society itself +sleep with the repressed hatreds of the submerged waiting their +appointed season? And while new worlds flew flaming from the wheel of +creation, and old ones died in an eye's twinkling, did not the race +dream on contemptuous of the changes which lurked in the restless +heavens? Yes, the meanest coward in existence had his innate courage +and there was a note of bravery in life on any terms. + +Fred stood before Storch's sleeping form a long time, and all manner +of impulses stirred him. There was even a moment when it came to him +that he might fall upon his gaoler while he slept and achieve a swift +freedom. And every ignoble murder of legend or history beckoned him +with the hands of red expediency. He ended by going to the door and +opening it cautiously as he had done the night before. But this time +the operation was more skillful and no warning click disturbed the +slumberer. He crept out into the night, down the cliff's edge, looking +back for the betraying shadow of a hidden spy. But there seemed to be +nothing to block his freedom. A virginal moon was languishing upon the +western rim of hills...a solitary cock crew lustily...occasional +footfalls floated up from the paved streets below...a cart rumbled in +the gloom. All these noises of the night were extraordinarily +friendly...like the smothered murmurings of a youth escaping from the +chains of sleep in pleasant dreaming. + +A swarm of platitudes surging through his brain urged him to flight. +But in the end self-esteem gave him his final cue, and he knew in a +flash how futile would be any truce with cowardice. A locked door +would have justified escape, but in the face of an unlatched threshold +there was only one course conceivable. + +Fred Starratt went back and wrapped himself in his blanket. Toward +daylight Storch arose and filled a pot with coffee. But neither spoke +a word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +As Storch cleared away the primitive evidences of the morning meal and +stood before the sink letting a thin trickle of cold water wash clean +the cups he said: + +"If we get the ten-o'clock boat to Oakland we will be in plenty of +time." + +Starratt rolled a cigarette. "Ah, then you are going, too!" + +"Naturally," Storch replied, as he turned off the water. + +Fred began to dress himself carefully. Storch loaned him an +indifferent razor. The shaving process was slow but in the end it was +accomplished. Fred was amazed at the freshness of his appearance. Only +once before in his life had he deliberately sat up all night without +either the desire or determination to sleep, and that was on that +night which now seemed so remote when he had felt the first budding of +Helen's scorn. He recalled that he had been just as alert and +clear-minded on the following morning as he was now. And just as +uncertain as to what the future held in store. + +Storch also made a careful toilet--for him. He rummaged for a clean +flannel shirt, combed his reddish beard, dusted off his clumsy boots. +But they were ready much too soon, like a couple of children promptly +dressed for an excursion, impatiently awaiting the hour of departure. +Of the two, Storch evinced the more nervousness. He poked into nooks +and corners of the room upon all sorts of pretended orderliness. Fred +sat and eyed him calmly--smoking cigarette after cigarette. Finally, +Storch lifted the kodak case from its hiding place and set it on the +center table. Cautiously he pried loose the false top and peered into +its depths. There followed a tense moment during which he bent in a +close inspection over its fascinating depths. Presently Fred caught a +distinct ticking sound, and he knew that Storch had set in motion the +clock upon which depended the bomb's explosion at the appointed hour. +But withal he remained curiously unmoved. + +The cry of a belated newsboy floated through the open front door. +Storch went out and bought a paper, flinging a section of it at Fred. +A thickly headlined account of the launching at the Hilmer yards +occupied chief place on the first page of the local news section. +There was a picture of the hull that had been put through on schedule +time in spite of strikes and lockouts, and another one of Hilmer, and +a second photograph of a woman. Fred looked twice before he realized +that the face of his wife was staring up at him from the printed +sheet. Helen Starratt was to be the ship's sponsor and there was a +pretty and touching story in this connection. It had always been Mrs. +Hilmer's ambition to christen a seagoing giant, and she had been +chosen to act as godmother to a huge oil-tanker only a year before, +but a serious accident had laid her low. Now, though she was unable to +perform the rite herself, she had intrusted her part to her faithful +friend, Mrs. Starratt. It was to be done by proxy, as it were, with +Mrs. Hilmer carried to the grand stand, where she was to repeat the +mystic formula, giving the ship a name at the moment when Helen +Starratt brought the foaming bottle of champagne crashing against the +vessel's side. The whole article, even down to this obvious dash of +"sob stuff," was at once Hilmer's challenge to the strikers and his +appeal to the gallery. There was a certain irony in realizing that all +these carefully planned effects had been seized upon for Hilmer's own +undoing. He was working in the dark, very much as Fred Starratt had +worked during those heartbreaking months when he had battled for place +in the business world. Then Hilmer had held him in the palm of his +hand. Now the situation was reversed--he held Axel Hilmer's fate in +his own keeping, and it was his finger that would spin the wheel of +destiny. Any fool could demand an eye for an eye; so much for so much +was the cut-and-dried morality of the market place. It took a poet to +bestow a wage out of all proportion to the workday, to turn the cheek +of humility to the blows of arrogance, to commend the extravagant gift +of the magdalene. And it was the poetry of life, after all, which +counted. Fred Starratt knew that now. A year ago he had thought of +poetry as strings of high-sounding words which produced a pleasant +mental reaction, something abstract and exotic. He had never fancied +that poetry was a thing to be seen and understood and lived, and that +such common things as bread and wine and love and hatred were shot +through with the pure gold of mystery. Once, if he had been moved to +magnanimity it would have been through an impulse of weak and +bloodless sentimentality ... now he had risen to generosity on the +wings of a supreme indifference, a magnificent contempt for +unessentials, a full-blooded understanding. Not that he had achieved a +cold and pallid philosophy ... a system of lukewarm expediencies. He +could still be swept by gusts of feeling ... he could even risk his +life to preserve it. + +He turned the pages of the newspaper over mechanically, reading word +upon word which held not the slightest meaning. He felt Storch's eyes +upon him, drawn, no doubt, by a mixture of subtle doubts and vague +appraisals. His thoughts flew to Ginger. What was she doing at this +moment? Was there any chance of _her_ failure? For answer another +question shaped itself: Had she _ever_ failed? Yet, this time she was +beset with dangers. And in his imagination he saw her treading the +thin ice of destiny with the same glorified contempt which lured him +to the poetical depths of life... And again Monet was at his side... +vague, mysterious, impalpable, the essence of things unseen but hoped +for, the solved riddle made spirit, the vast patience of eternity +realized. And still Storch's restless eyes were fixed upon him. + +Presently he heard Storch's voice coming to his ears out of a friendly +dusk: + +"It's nine-thirty...I guess we had better be moving." + +He did not stir at first...he merely sat staring at Storch, very much +as a man waking suddenly and not yet alive to the precise details of +his environment. "Moving...where?" he finally inquired. + +Storch crumpled the newspaper in his hand viciously. "Come...you've +been dreaming!" he flung out. "That's dangerous!" + +Fred braced himself in his chair. "I'm not going," he said, quietly. +"I've changed my mind!" + +Storch's mouth widened, not in a smile this time, but in a vicious +snarl. He took out a cheap watch from his pocket, glanced at it, and +put it back. + +"It's just twenty-five minutes to ten," he said, quietly. "I'll give +you five more minutes." + +Fred put both his arms upon the cluttered table, leaning forward, as +he answered: + +"Nothing can alter my decision now, Storch... You should have known +better than to have counted on one of my sort...In the end, you see, +my standards _have_ shackled me." + +"Counted on your sort!" Storch laughed back, sarcastically. "Do you +suppose for one moment that I ever count on anyone?... I like a game +of chance ... that's why I chose you. I like to triumph in spite of a +poor hand ... and you have been in some ways the poorest deal I've +ever risked a play on. But if I'd gotten you I'd have chuckled to my +dying day ... even in spite of the fact that it would have shattered +all my theories. I catch my fish upon the lowest and highest tides ... +slack water never yields much." + +He was rising to his feet. His face was a placid mask, but his voice +dripped venom. Fred matched his movements with equal quiet. + +"Still you did have hopes for me," Fred threw at him in grim raillery. +"I may have been the poorest prospect, but I have been the most +uncertain also... You might just as well admit that." + +He saw Storch's eyes widen at the arrogance of this unexpected thrust. + +"Slack water is always uncertain," Storch replied, "unless you know +which turn in the tide is to follow." + +They stood gazing at each other for a fraction of time, which seemed +eternity. And in that swift and yet prolonged exchange of glances Fred +Starratt read Storch's purpose completely... + +There followed a moment of swift action in which Storch made a clipt +movement toward his hip pocket, and in a trice Fred Starratt felt +himself bear quickly down upon the shattered lamp, grasp it firmly in +his two hands, and bring it crashing against Storch's upflung +forehead. + +He was not conscious of seeing Storch crumple over, but he felt a thud +shake the cluttered room to its foundations... He went over quietly +and closed the open door. Then he put on his hat. Storch lay quite +still and an ugly red pool was already luring flies to a crimson +feast. The floor was covered with bits of shattered glass glistening +in the sun. + +Presently he opened the door again. A child had crept up to the +doorstep and sat prattling to her tattered doll. He stepped aside so +as not to disturb her, shut the door with a sharp bang, and walked +swiftly to the edge of the cliff. But this time he plunged down. He +looked back once. Not a soul followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +He was sitting on a pile of lumber when, an hour later, his thoughts +began to run in rational channels again. Before him lay a patch of +gray-green bay, flanked on either side by wharves upon which two +black-hulled lumber schooners were disgorging their resinous cargo. +The strike of the longshoremen was still in progress and the +Embarcadero as good as deserted. Armed guards paraded before the +entrance to the docks and only occasional idlers sunned themselves and +viewed the silent and furtive loading of restive craft straining at +their moorings. + +He began to wonder dimly whether he had left Storch dead or merely +stunned, and, granting either alternative, how definitely this +circumstance would halt the plot against Hilmer's life. It was +conceivable to him now that Storch might have provided against the +possibility of failure, given the role of assassin into the hands of +an understudy, to be exact. Suppose Ginger should fail in her warning? +Not that he doubted her, but there was a chance that she had been +hedged about with all manner of difficulties--perhaps even death. +Suddenly with an arresting irrelevance he thought of the child upon +Storch's doorstep, hugging her doll close, and as swiftly he +remembered the black kodak case upon the center table. He wondered if +the child were still sitting there ... Perhaps, by this time, a swarm +of children were tumbling about the weather-beaten steps. He asked a +passer-by the hour. Eleven-thirty! In fifteen more minutes, if the +ticking clock within that sinister case performed its function, +Storch's dwelling would be tumbling in upon his prostrate body. And, +in the face of this, children might be prattling before the threshold. +He must go back again! + +He jumped to his feet and began to run. In an instant a conflagration +of potential disasters leaped up from the spark of the immediate +danger. He flew along faster, colliding with irate pedestrians, +escaping the wheels of skimming automobiles ... Presently the familiar +cliff and the tawny path scaling it loomed ahead. He began to climb +upward, almost on all-fours, digging his finger nails into the yellow +clay in an instinctive effort to pull himself forward. Finally he +gained the top ... The street, somnolent with approaching noon, was +deserted--the child had disappeared. He recovered his whirling senses +and looked again. This time he saw that the door of the shack stood +open. He took a step forward. A figure loomed in the doorway. He +shaded his eyes from the sun's glare and narrowed his lids. It was a +woman! + +The unexpectedness of this presence overwhelmed him as completely as +if he had seen an apparition. For an instant he did not grasp its +significance. + +Then, in another moment, understanding began to flood in upon him. He +felt a great weakness ... but he managed to make a trumpet with his +hands, calling in a voice that sounded remote: + +"Come out! For God's sake, come out!" + +He saw the woman start back in a movement of quick confusion, and +heard himself call again, this time with muffled agony: + +"Ginger!" + +There was a tremendous roar ... he felt a shower of stones hitting him +sharply in the face ... He pressed forward ... sheets of flame were +leaping greedily toward the sky and a string of people poured out into +the sun-baked street. + +At midnight Fred Starratt, making his way from the outlying districts +toward the center of the town, came out of a mental turmoil that had +flung him about all day in a series of blind impulses. The air was +raucous with the shrill cry of newsboys announcing the details of the +morning's sensation. He knew how the journalistic tale would run +without bothering to glimpse the headlines. At this time it would be +made up for the most part of vague speculations as to who was the +prime mover of the enterprise. + +The moments following the disaster were now fathomless, but he fancied +that he had been outwardly cool, chilled into subconscious calculation +by the very violence of the shock ... The frenzy had come later when +he found himself aboard a ferryboat bound for Oakland. He could not +disentangle the mixed impulses which had sent him upon this irrational +errand, but he remembered now that a consuming desire to see Hilmer +had possessed him. Perhaps an itching for revenge again had sprung +into life, perhaps a fury to release a measure of his scorn and +contempt, perhaps a mere curiosity to glimpse once more this man whose +armor of arrogance remained unpierced ... Whatever the urge, it had +keyed him to a quivering determination. He had wondered what stupidity +possessed him to send Ginger in warning to a man like Hilmer. ... With +almost psychic power he had created for himself the scene at the depot +with Ginger pouring her tremulous message into contemptuous ears. For +it was certain that Hilmer had been contemptuous. ... Afterward, +standing before the north gate of Hilmer's shipyards, a man at his +side confirmed his intuitions between irritating puffs from a +blackened pipe: + +"Nobody can double-cross Hilmer ... and they'd better give up trying +... He said a launching at noon and it _was_ at noon, you can bet your +life on that! ... They say a woman tried to scare the old man this +morning ... He just laughed in her face and came on over." + +Almost as the man had finished speaking the crowd surged forward. And +in a twinkling Hilmer's machine had swept past, leaving Fred, +trembling from head to foot, staring stupidly into a cloud of dust ... +He had not even glimpsed the occupants! But his failure to achieve +whatever vague plan was buffeting him about drove him back to San +Francisco. His confused mind had worked with the rational capacity for +details which characterizes madness. He knew that Hilmer must wait for +the automobile ferry...that the regular passenger boat would reach the +other side at least a half hour in advance. + +He had been prepared this time for the appearance of Hilmer's car. It +came off the boat preceded by a thin line of automobiles, moving +slowly. ... For a moment he wondered how he would achieve his purpose, +and the next thing he knew he had leaped aboard the running board... +He remembered long after that his wife had given a cry, that Mrs. +Hilmer had stirred ever so slightly, that Hilmer's eyes had widened. +Then out of a tense moment of suppressed confusion he had heard his +wife's voice floating toward him as she said: + +"Ah, then you were not drowned, after all!" + +With amazing effrontery he threw open the door and pressed down the +emergency seat opposite her. + +"No... I swam out of that black pool!" + +A slight tremor ran through her. Mrs. Hilmer smiled. + +Recalling the scene, he remembered how outwardly commonplace were the +moments which followed. Even Hilmer had been surprised into +banalities. Fred Starratt might have parted with them but yesterday, +for any indications to the contrary, and for an instant he had found +all sense of tragedy swallowed up in amazement at the passive tenacity +of the conventions. + +But sitting there, facing this trio, each busy with his own swift +thought, it gradually dawned upon Fred Starratt that now they were +afraid of him. Like a captured and blinded Samson he was in a position +to bring the temple walls crashing down upon them all. _They_ might +elect to be silent, but what a voice _he_ could raise!... He had come +out of a chuckling silence to hear Hilmer saying between almost shut +teeth: + +"I suppose you'll be needing money now, Starratt... Railroad rates +have all been raised." + +He felt at that moment the same triumph as when Storch had turned the +key in its lock... Hilmer always did walk directly to his objective +... but there were times when subtleties had more power. He remembered +the quiet thrust of his own voice measuring his adversary's +expectancy: + +"A man in my situation needs nothing, Hilmer ... least of all +_money_!" + +He never forgot the look of contempt which Hilmer threw at him ... but +this time it had been a contempt for the unfathomable. Helen's face +was white; only Mrs. Hilmer had continued to smile ... a set, ghastly, +cruel smile of complete satisfaction. And, in the silence which +followed, it was Mrs. Hilmer's voice that brought them all back with a +start as she said: + +"Well, here we are ... home again!" + +It was the same voice that had broken in upon another tense situation +months before with: + +"What nice corn pudding this is, Mrs. Starratt...Would you mind +telling me how you made it?" + +Had they been moving in a circle since that fatal evening, Fred had +found himself wondering...or had he merely been dreaming? + +The scene which followed had been unforgetable--the chauffeur and +Hilmer lifting Mrs. Hilmer into her wheeled chair; Helen Starratt +coming forward considerately with a steamer rug for the invalid's +comfort; Fred, standing outside the pale of all this activity like a +dreamer constructing stage directions for the puppets of his +imagination. And out of the almost placid atmosphere of domestic +bustle the voice of Mrs. Hilmer again breaking the stillness, this +time with a cool and knifelike precision as she said, turning her +pale, icy eyes on Helen Starratt: + +"My dear, your nurse-girl days are over...We've had you a long time +and we can't be too selfish--now that your husband is back!" + +Could Fred ever wipe from his memory the startled look which had swept +Helen's face as she released her hold on the wheeled chair? Or the +diabolical content with which Mrs. Hilmer settled back as she went on +slowly, clearly, as if the steady drip of her words fascinated her: + +"You wouldn't want to stay here...this is no place for lovers...And, +besides, there isn't room for _two_!" + +Helen's hands had fallen inertly at her sides as she stood facing +Hilmer, as if waiting for his decision. But he had made no move, he +merely had returned her gaze in equal silence. At that moment Mrs. +Hilmer's clawlike fingers closed over her husband's mangled thumb with +a clutch of triumph and she had turned with a painful twist to dart +her venomous scorn at Helen. A fortnight ago the doctors had given +Mrs. Hilmer a scant six months of life. But now Fred Starratt knew +that she would live as long as her spirits had vengeance to feed upon. + +Thus had the door closed upon Hilmer and his crippled gaoler. Already +Helen Starratt had gained the street corner. Fred was seized with an +impulse to overtake her, but it had died as quickly. There was nothing +he could offer ... not even a lodging for the night. Instead he had +turned and walked briskly in an opposite direction. + + * * * * * + +As he drew nearer town the cries of the newsboys grew more insistent +... so insistent that Fred bought a paper. By this time they had +cleared away the charred wreckage of Storch's shack, discovering the +secret which its ruins had concealed. He found himself wondering how +soon they would link him with the still-born plot which had achieved +so much tragedy in spite of its miscarriage. Of Ginger there was +little trace. She had been caught up in a winding sheet of flame, a +chariot of fire which had swept clean her pitiful and outraged body... +Again he saw her face, wistful in the glare of that portentous noon, +framed by the outline of Storch's doorway, heard himself call her name +in agony, and woke to find only a memory answering him. And there came +to him a realization of the terrible beauty of that moment which had +released her spirit in white-heated transfiguration. + +A sudden pity for the living began to well up within him ... for +Hilmer in the relentless grip of the harpy who would tear at his +content with her scrawny fingers ... for Mrs. Hilmer, condemned to +feed to the end upon the bitter fruits of hatred ... for his wife, +drifting to a pallid fate made up of petty adjustments and +compromises. Yes ... he found himself pitying Helen Starratt most of +all. Because he had a feeling that she would go on to the end cloaking +her primitive impulses in a curious covering of self-deception. She +would never understand ... never! She would always be restless, +straining at the conventions, but unable or unwilling to pay the price +of full freedom. And her remaining days would be spent in a futile +pulling at the chains which her own cowardice had forged. She would +not even have the memory of bitter-sweet delights. + +He came from these musings to discover that his feet had strayed +instinctively to the old garden which provoked the memory of his +father and mother. But he found it destroyed utterly ... its prim beds +swept aside to make way for a huge apartment house. The last +intangible link which had bound him to his old life had been +destroyed. + +He turned away, almost with a feeling of relief--the past was forever +dead, burying itself in its own tragic oblivion. He climbed higher, to +the topmost point of the Hyde Street Hill, up the steps leading to the +reservoir. It was another night of provocative perfumes and promissory +warmths. He skirted the sun-baked slopes, sown with blossoming +alfalfa, and came upon a clump of wind-tortured acacia bushes facing +the west. He threw himself down and lay in a sweet physical truce, +gazing up at the twinkling sky. He was alone with the night, he had +not even a disciple to betray him. + +He knew that if he willed it so he could be up and off, forever +eluding, forever flaunting the law's ubiquitous presence. The sharp +urge for subtle revenge which had come with realization of his power +had passed, but he was done with any and all compromises, he had no +heart for the decaying fruits of deception. + +Would they find him here wrapped in the cool fragrance of the night, +or must he go down to them, yielding himself up silently and without +bitterness? He had touched life at every point. He could say, now, +with Hilmer: + +"I know all the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact!" + +Yes, even to murder. + +And with Storch he could repeat: + +"A man who's been through hell is like a field broken to the plow. +He's ready for seed." + +He _was_ ready for seed, so freshly and deeply broken that he had a +passion to lie fallow against a worthy sowing. + +Presently, enveloped in the perfect and childlike faith which follows +revelation, he slept, with his face turned toward the stars. And as he +stirred ever so slightly he felt the nearness of two souls. Clearly +and more clearly they defined themselves until he knew them for those +two erring companions of his misery who had been made suddenly perfect +in the crucible of sorrow and sacrifice. They came toward him in a +white, silent beauty, until on one side stood Felix Monet and on the +other Sylvia Molineaux. + +And before him in review passed a motley company of every tragic group +that he had ever known--business associates, jailbirds, the inmates of +Fairview, Storch's terrible companions. He recognized each group in +its turn by their outer trappings. But suddenly their clothes melted +and even their flesh dissolved, and he saw nothing but a company of +skeletons stripped of all unessentials, and he could no longer mark +them apart. And, in a flash, even these unmarked figures crumbled to +dust, spreading out like a sunlit plain at noonday. And he saw clouds +gather and rain fall and green blades spring up miraculously and +blossom succeed blossom. And through it all Felix Monet stood on one +side and Sylvia Molineaux on the other. + +He awoke to the vigorous prod of a contemptuous boot. A policeman +stood over him. + +"What are you doing here?" the officer bellowed down at him. + +He rose quickly. The sun was bathing the rejuvenated city in a flood +of wonderful gold. + +"My name is Fred Starratt," he said, quietly. "And I'm wanted for +murder ... and some other things. You'd better take me down." + +The policeman grasped his arm and together they made their way down to +the level stretches of the paved street. + +They stood for a moment to let a street car swing past. It was crowded +with clerks, standing on the running board. Above the warning clang of +the bell a voice came ringing out with a note of surprised +recognition: + +"Hello, Fred Starratt! What's new?" + +He made a trumpet with his hands. + +"Everything!" he cried back, loudly. "_Everything in the world_!" + + + + +THE END + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Broken to the Plow, by Charles Caldwell Dobie + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13178 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8858be9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13178 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13178) diff --git a/old/13178-8.txt b/old/13178-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c52d419 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13178-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9086 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Broken to the Plow, by Charles Caldwell Dobie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Broken to the Plow + +Author: Charles Caldwell Dobie + +Release Date: August 14, 2004 [EBook #13178] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROKEN TO THE PLOW *** + + + + +Produced by Keith M. Eckrich and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreaders Team + + + + + + +BROKEN TO THE PLOW + +A Novel by + +CHARLES CALDWELL DOBIE + +_Author of_ "THE BLOOD RED DAWN" + + + +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + +NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + * * * * * + +Printed in the United States of America + +TO MY BROTHER +Who Helped Make My Literary Career Possible. + + + + +BROKEN TO THE PLOW + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Fred Starratt remembered that he +had been commissioned by his wife to bring home oyster cocktails for +dinner. Of course, it went without saying that he was expected to +attend to the cigars. That meant he must touch old Wetherbee for +money. Five dollars would do the trick, but, while he was about it, he +decided that he might as well ask for twenty-five. There were bound to +be other demands before the first of the month, and the hard-fisted +cashier of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. seemed to grow more and more crusty +over drafts against the salary account. If one caught him in a good +humor it was all right. Usually a _risqué_ story was the safest road +to geniality. Starratt raked his brains for a new one, to no purpose. +Every moment of delay added greater certainty to the conviction that +he was in for a disagreeable encounter. At four o'clock Wetherbee +always began to balance his cash for the day and he was particularly +vicious at any interruptions during this precise performance. What in +the world had possessed Helen to give this absurd dinner party to two +people Starratt had never met? At least she might have put the thing +off until pay day, when money was more plentiful. + +How did others manage? Starratt asked himself. Because there was a +small minority in the office who received their full month's salary +without a break during the entire year. Take young Brauer, for +instance. He got a little over a hundred a month and yet he never +seemed short. He dressed well, too--or neatly, to be nearer the truth; +there was no great style to his make-up. Of course, Brauer was not +married, but Starratt could never remember a time, even before he took +the plunge into matrimony, when he was not going through the motions +of smoothing old Wetherbee into a good-humored acceptance of an IOU +tag. Starratt did not think himself extravagant, and it always had +puzzled him to observe how free some of his salaried friends were with +their coin. Only that morning his wife had reflected his own mood with +exaggerated petulancy when she had said: + +"I'm sure I don't know where all the money goes! We don't spend it on +cafés, and we haven't a car, and goodness knows I only buy what I have +to when it comes down to clothes." + +What she _had_ to! He thought over the phrase not with any desire to +put Helen in the pillory, but merely to uncover, if possible, the +source of their economic ills. + +In days gone by, when his mother was alive, he had heard almost the +same remark leveled at his father: + +"Well, I suppose _some_ people could save on our income. But we've got +to be decent--we can't go about in rags!" + +He knew from long experience just the sort his mother had meant by the +term "some people." Brauer was a case in point. Mrs. Starratt always +spoke of such as he with lofty tolerance. + +"Oh, of course, _foreigners_ always get on! They're accustomed to live +that way!" + +Fred Starratt had not altogether accepted his mother's philosophy that +everybody lacking the grace of an Anglo-Saxon or Scotch name was a +foreigner. There were times when he was given to wonder vaguely why +the gift of "getting on" had been given to "foreigners" and denied +him. Once in a while he rebelled against the implied gentility which +had been wished on him. Were rags necessary to achieve economy? +Granting the premises, in moments of rare revolt he became hospitable +to any contingency that would free him from the ever-present +humiliation of an empty purse. + +He soon had learned that the term "rags" was a mere figure of speech, +which stood for every pretense offered up as a sacrifice upon the +altar of appearances. His mother had never been a spendthrift and +certainly one could not convict Helen on such a charge. But they both +had one thing in common--they "had to have things" for almost any and +every occasion. If a trip were planned or a dancing party arranged or +a tea projected--well, one simply couldn't go looking like a fright, +and that was all there was to it. His father never thought to argue +such a question. Women folks had to have clothes, and so he accepted +the situation with the philosophy born of bowing gracefully to the +inevitable. But Starratt himself occasionally voiced a protest. + +"Nothing to wear?" he would echo, incredulously. "Why, how about that +pink dress? That hasn't worn out yet." + +"No, that's just it! It simply won't! I'm sick and tired of putting it +on. Everybody knows it down to the last hook and eye... Oh, well, I'll +stay home. It isn't a matter of life and death. I've given things up +before." + +When a woman took that tone of martyrdom there really was nothing to +do but acknowledge defeat. Other men were able to provide frocks for +their wives and he supposed he ought to be willing to do the same +thing. There was an element of stung pride in his surrender. He had +the ingrained Californian's distaste for admitting, even to himself, +that there was anything he could not afford. And in the end it was +this feeling rising above the surface of his irritation which made him +a bit ashamed of his attitude toward Helen's dinner party. After all, +it would be the same a thousand years from now. A man couldn't have +his cake and eat it, and a man like Brauer must live a dull sort of +life. What could be the use of saving money if one forgot how to spend +it in the drab process? As a matter of fact, old Wetherbee wouldn't +gobble him. He'd grunt or grumble or even rave a bit, but in the end +he would yield up the money. He always did. And suddenly, while his +courage had been so adroitly screwed to the sticking point, he went +over to old Wetherbee's desk without further ado. + +The cashier was absorbed in adding several columns of figures and he +let Starratt wait. This was not a reassuring sign. Finally, when he +condescended to acknowledge the younger man's presence he did it with +the merest uplift of the eyebrows. Starratt decided at once against +pleasantries. Instead, he matched Wetherbee's quizzical pantomime by +throwing the carefully written IOU tag down on the desk. + +Wetherbee tossed the tag aside. "You got twenty-five dollars a couple +of days ago!" he bawled out suddenly. + +Starratt was surprised into silence. Old Wetherbee was sometimes given +to half-audible and impersonal grumblings, but this was the first time +he had ever gone so far as to voice a specific objection to an appeal +for funds. + +"What do you think this is?" Wetherbee went on in a tone loud enough +to be heard by all the office force. "The Bank of England?... I've got +something else to do besides advance money every other day to a bunch +of joy-riding spendthrifts. In my day a young man ordered his +expenditures to suit his pocketbook. We got our salary once a month +and we saw to it that it lasted... What's the matter--somebody sick at +home?" + +Starratt could easily have lied and closed the incident quickly, but +an illogical pride stirred him to the truth. + +"No," he returned, quietly, "I'm simply short. We're having some +company in for dinner and there are a few things to get--cigars +and--well, you know what." + +Wetherbee threw him a lip-curling glance. "Cigars? Well, twopenny +clerks do keep up a pretty scratch and no mistake. In my day--" + +Starratt cut him short with an impatient gesture. + +"Times have changed, Mr. Wetherbee." + +"Yes, I should say they have," the elder man sneered, as he reached +for the key to the cash drawer. + +For a moment Starratt felt an enormous relief at the old man's +significant movement. He was to get the money, after all! But almost +at once he was moved to sudden resentment. What right had Wetherbee to +humiliate him before everybody within earshot? He knew that the eyes +of the entire force were being leveled at him, and he felt a surge of +satisfaction as he said, very distinctly: + +"Don't bother, Mr. Wetherbee... It really doesn't make the slightest +difference. I'll manage somehow." + +Old Wetherbee shrugged and went on adding figures. Starratt felt +confused. The whole scene had fallen flat. His suave heroics had not +even made Wetherbee feel cheap. He went back to his desk. + +Presently a hand rested upon his shoulder. He knew Brauer's fawning, +almost apologetic, touch. He turned. + +"If you're short--" Brauer was whispering. + +Starratt hesitated. Deep down he never had liked Brauer; in fact, he +always had just missed snubbing him. Still it was decent of Brauer +to... + +"That's very kind, I'm sure. Could you give me--say, five dollars?" + +Brauer thrust two lean, bloodless fingers into his vest pocket and +drew out a crisp note. + +"Thanks, awfully," Starratt said, quickly, as he reached for the +money. + +Brauer's face lit up with a swift glow of satisfaction. Starratt +almost shrank back. He felt a clammy hand pressing the bill against +his palm. + +"Thanks, awfully," he murmured again. + +Brauer dropped his eyes with a suggestion of unpleasant humility. + +"I wish," flashed through Starratt's mind, "that I had asked for ten +dollars." + + * * * * * + +As Fred Starratt came down the steps leading from the California +Market with a bottle of oyster cocktails held gingerly before him he +never remembered when he had been less in the mood for guests. A +passing friend invited him to drop down for a drink at Collins & +Wheeland's, but the state of his finances urged a speedy flight home +instead. At this hour the California Street cars were crowded, but he +managed to squeeze into a place on the running board. He always +enjoyed the glide of this old-fashioned cable car up the stone-paved +slope of Nob Hill, and even the discomfort of a huddled foothold was +more than discounted by the ability to catch backward glimpses of city +and bay falling away in the slanting gold of an early spring twilight +like some enchanted and fabulous capital. + +At Hyde Street he changed cars, continuing his homeward flight in the +direction of Russian Hill. He prided himself on the fact that he still +clung to one of the old quarters of the town, scorning the outlying +districts with all the disdain of a San Franciscan born and bred of +pioneer stock. He liked to be within easy walking distance of work, +and only a trifle over fifteen minutes from the shops and cafés and +theaters. And his present quarters in a comparatively new apartment +house just below the topmost height of Green Street answered these +wishes in every particular. + +On the Hyde Street car he found a seat, and, without the distraction +of maintaining his foothold or the diversion of an unfolding panorama, +his thoughts turned naturally on his immediate problems. The five +dollars had gone a ridiculously small way. Four oyster cocktails came +to a dollar and a quarter, and he had to have at least six cigars at +twenty-five cents apiece. This left him somewhat short of the maid's +wage of three dollars for cooking and serving dinner and washing up +the dishes. If Helen had engaged Mrs. Finn, everything would be all +right. She knew them and she would wait. Still, he didn't like putting +anybody off--he was neither quite too poor nor quite too affluent to +be nonchalant in his postponement of obligations. + +When he arrived home he found that Helen had been having her troubles, +too. Mrs. Finn had disappointed her and sent a frowsy female, who +exuded vile whisky and the unpleasant odors of a slattern. + +"I think she's half drunk," Helen had confessed, brutally. "You can't +depend on anyone these days. Servants are getting so independent!" + +The roast had been delivered late, too, and when Helen had called up +the shop to protest she had been met with cool insolence. + +"I told the boy who talked to me that I'd report him to the boss. And +what do you suppose he said? 'Go as far as you like! We're all going +out on a strike next week, so we should worry!' Fancy a butcher +talking like that to me! I don't know what things are coming to." + +Frankly, neither did Fred Starratt, but he held his peace. He was +thinking just where he would gather enough money together to pay Mrs. +Finn's questionable substitute. + +The guests arrived shortly and there were the usual stiff, bromidic +greetings. Mrs. Hilmer had been presented to Fred first ... a little, +spotless, homey Scandinavian type, who radiated competent housekeeping +and flawless cooking. The Starratts had once had just such a +shining-faced body for a neighbor--a woman who ran up the back stairs +during the dinner hour with a bit of roasted chicken or a pan of +featherweight pop-overs or a dish of crumbly cookies for the children. +Mrs. Starratt, senior, had acknowledged her neighbor's culinary merits +ungrudgingly, tempering her enthusiasm, however, with a swift dab of +criticism directed at the lady's personality. + +"My, but isn't she Dutch, though!" frequently had escaped her. + +Somehow the characterization had struck Fred Starratt as very apt even +in his younger days. And as he shook hands with Mrs. Hilmer these same +words came to mind. + +Hilmer disturbed him. He was a huge man with a rather well-chiseled +face, considering his thickness of limb, and his blond hair fell in an +untidy shower about his prominent and throbbing temples. Fred felt him +to be a man without any inherited social graces, yet he contrived to +appear at ease. Was it because he was disposed to let the women +chatter? No, that could not account for his acquired suavity, for +silence is very often much more awkward than even clumsy attempts at +speech. + +As the dinner progressed, Fred Starratt began to wonder just what had +tempted Helen to arrange this little dinner party for the Hilmers. +When she had broached the matter, her words had scarcely conveyed +their type. A woman who had helped his wife out at the Red Cross +Center during the influenza epidemic could be of almost any pattern. +But immediately he had gauged her as one of his wife's own kind. Helen +and her women friends were not incompetent housewives, but their +efforts leaned rather to an escape from domestic drudgery than to a +patient yielding to its yoke. If they discussed housekeeping at all, +it was with reference to some new labor-saving device flashing across +the culinary horizon. But Mrs. Hilmer's conversation thrilled with the +pride of her gastronomic achievements without any reference to the +labor involved. She invested her estate as housekeeper for her husband +with a commendable dignity. It appeared that she took an enormous +amount of pains with the simplest dishes. It was incredible, for +instance, how much thought and care and time went into a custard which +she described at great length for Helen's benefit. + +"But that takes hours and _hours_!" Helen protested. + +"But it's a real custard," Hilmer put in, dryly. + +Fred Starratt felt himself flushing. Hilmer's scant speech had the +double-edged quality of most short weapons. Could it be that his guest +was sneering by implication at the fare that Helen had provided? No, +that was hardly it, because Helen had provided good fare, even if she +had prepared most of it vicariously. Hilmer's covert disdain was more +impersonal, yet it remained every whit as irritating, for all that. +Perhaps a bit more so, since Fred Starratt found it hard to put a +finger on its precise quality. He had another taste of it later when +the inevitable strike gossip intruded itself. It was Helen who opened +up, repeating her verbal passage with the butcher. + +"They want eight hours a day and forty-five dollars a week," she +finished. "I call that ridiculous!" + +"Why?" asked Hilmer, abruptly. + +"For a butcher?" Helen countered, with pained incredulity. + +"How long does your husband work?" Hilmer went on, calmly. + +"I'm sure I don't know. How long do you work, Fred?" + +Starratt hesitated. "Let me see ... nine to twelve is three hours ... +one to five is four hours--seven in all." + +Hilmer smiled with cryptic irritation. "There you have it!... What's +wrong with a butcher wanting eight hours?" + +Helen shrugged. "Well, a butcher doesn't have to use his brains very +much!" she threw out, triumphantly. + +"And your husband does. I see!" + +Starratt winced. He felt his wife's eye turned expectantly upon him. +"Seven hours is a normal day's work," he put in, deciding to ignore +Hilmer's insolence, "but as an employer of an office force you must +know how much overtime the average clerk puts in. We're not afraid to +work a little bit more than we're paid for. We're thinking of +something else besides money." + +Hilmer buttered a roll. "What, for instance?" + +"Why, the firm's interest ... our own advancement, of course ... the +enlarged capacity that comes with greater skill and knowledge." He +leaned back in his seat with a self-satisfied smile. + +Hilmer laid down his butter knife very deliberately. "That's very well +put," he said; "very well put, indeed! And would you mind telling me +just what your duties are in the office where you work?" + +"I'm in the insurance business ... fire. We have a general agency here +for the Pacific coast. That means that all the subagents in the +smaller towns report the risks they have insured to us. I'm what they +call a map clerk. I enter the details of every risk on bound maps of +the larger towns which every insurance company is provided with. In +this way we know just how much we have at risk in any building, block, +or section of any city. And we are able to keep our liability within +proper limits." + +"You do this same thing ... for seven hours every day ... not to speak +of overtime?" + +"Yes." + +"And how long have you been doing this?" + +"About five years." + +"And how long will you continue to do it?" + +"God knows!" + +Hilmer rested both hands on the white cloth. They were shapely hands +in spite of their size, with healthy pink nails, except on a thumb and +forefinger, which had been badly mangled. "For five years you have +worked seven hours every day on this routine ... and in order to +enlarge your capacity and skill and knowledge you have worked many +hours overtime on this same routine, I suppose without any extra +pay... It seems to me that a man who only gets a chance to exercise +with dumb-bells might keep in condition, but he'd hardly grow more +skillful... Of course, that still leaves two theories intact--working +for your own advancement ... and the interest of your firm. I suppose +the advancement _has_ come, I suppose you've been paid for your +overtime ... in increased salary." + +Helen made a scornful movement. "If you call an increase of ten +dollars a month in two years an advancement," she ventured, bitterly. + +Starratt flushed. + +"That leaves only one excuse for overtime. And that excuse is usually +a lie. Why should you have the interest of your firm at heart when it +does nothing for you beyond what it is forced to do?" + +Fred Starratt bared his teeth in sudden snapping anger. "Well, and +what do _you_ do, Mr. Hilmer, for your clerks?" + +"Nothing ... absolutely nothing ... unless they demand it. And even +then it's only the exceptional man who can force me into a corner. The +average clerk in any country is like a gelded horse. He's been robbed +of his power by education ... of a sort. He's a reasonable, rational, +considerate beast that can be broken to any harness." + +"What do you want us to do? Go on a strike and heave bricks into your +plate-glass window?... What would you do in our place?" + +"I wouldn't be there, to begin with. I've heaved bricks in my day." He +leaned forward, exhibiting his smashed thumb and forefinger. "I killed +the man who did that to me. I was born in a Norwegian fishing village +and after a while I followed the sea. That's a good school for action. +And what education you get is thrashed into you. The little that +sticks doesn't do much more than toughen you. And if you don't want +any more it does well enough. Later on, if you have a thirst for +knowledge, you drink the brand you pick yourself and it doesn't go to +your head. Now with you ... you didn't have any choice. You drank up +what they handed out and, at the age when you could have made a +selection, your taste was formed ... by _others_... I don't mind +people kicking at the man who works with his hands if they know what +they're talking about. But most of them don't. They get the thing +second hand. They're chock full of loyalty to superiors and systems +and governments, just from habit... I've worked with my hands, and +I've fought for a half loaf of bread with a dirk knife, and I know all +the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact. So when I disagree +with the demands of the men who build my vessels I know why I'm +disagreeing. And I usually do disagree ... because if they've got guts +enough in them they'll fight. And I like a good fight. That's why +potting clerks is such a tame business. It's almost as sickening as a +rabbit drive." + +He finished with a gesture of contempt and reached for his goblet of +water. + +Starratt decided not to dodge the issue; if Hilmer wished to throw any +further mud he was perfectly ready to stand up and be the target. + +"Well, and what's the remedy for stiffening the backbone of my sort?" +he asked, with polite insolence. + +"Stiffening the backbone of the middle class is next to impossible. +They've been bowing and scraping until there's a permanent kink in +their backs!" + +"The 'middle class'?" Helen echoed, incredulously. + +Hilmer was smiling widely. There was a strange, embarrassed silence. +Starratt was the first to recover himself. "Why, of course!... Why +not? You didn't think we belonged to any other class, did you?" + +It was Mrs. Hilmer who changed the subject. "What nice corn pudding +this is, Mrs. Starratt! Would you mind telling me how you made it?" + +Hostilities ceased with the black coffee, and in the tiny living room +Hilmer grew almost genial. His life had been varied and he was rather +proud of it--that is, he was proud of the more sordid details, which +he recounted with an air of satisfaction. He liked to dwell on his +poverty, his lack of opportunity, his scant education. He had the +pride of his achievements, and he was always eager to throw them into +sharper relief by dwelling upon the depths from which he had sprung. +He had his vulgarities, of course, but it was amazing how well +selected they were--the vulgarities of simplicity rather than of +coarseness. And while he talked he moved his hands unusually for a man +of northern blood, revealing the sinister thumb and forefinger, which +to Fred Starratt grew to be a symbol of his guest's rough-hewn power. +Hilmer was full of raw-boned stories of the sea and he had the +seafarer's trick of vivid speech. Even Helen Starratt was absorbed ... +a thing unusual for her. At least in her husband's hearing she always +disclaimed any interest in the brutalities. She never read about +murders or the sweaty stories in the human-interest columns of the +paper or the unpleasant fictioning of realists. Her excuse was the +threadbare one that a trivial environment always calls forth, "There +are enough unpleasant things in life without reading about them!" + +The unpleasant things in Helen Starratt's life didn't go very far +beyond half-tipsy maids and impertinent butcher boys. + +Hilmer's experiences were not quite in the line of drawing-room +anecdotes, and Starratt had seen the time when his wife would have +recoiled from them with the disdainful grace of a feline shaking +unwelcome moisture from its paws. But to-night she drew her dark +eyebrows together tensely and let her thin, vivid lips part with frank +eagerness. Her interest flamed her with a new quality. Fred Starratt +had always known that his wife was attractive; he would not have +married her otherwise; but, as she leaned forward upon the arm of her +chair, resting her elbows upon an orange satin pillow, he saw that she +was handsome. And, somehow, the realization vaguely disturbed him. + +Hilmer's stories of prosperity were not so moving. From a penniless +emigrant in New York until he had achieved the distinction of being +one of the leading shipbuilders of the Pacific coast, his narrative +steadily dwindled in power, the stream of his life choked with +stagnant scum of good fortune. Indeed, he grew so dull that Helen +Starratt, stifling a yawn, said: + +"If it's not too personal ... won't you please tell us ... about ... +about the man you killed for smashing your thumb?" + +He laughed with charming naivete, and began at once. But it was all +disappointingly simple. It had happened aboard ship. A hulking Finn, +one of the crew's bullies, had accused Hilmer of stealing his tobacco. +A scuffle followed, blows, blood drawn. Upon the slippery deck Hilmer +had fallen prone in an attempt to place a swinging blow. The Finn had +seized this opportunity and flung a bit of pig iron upon Hilmer's +sprawling right hand. Hilmer had leaped to his feet at once and, +seizing the bar of iron in his dripping fingers, had crushed the +bully's head with one sure, swift blow. + +"He fell face downward ... his head split open like a rotten melon." + +Helen Starratt shuddered. "How ... how perfectly fascinating!" escaped +her. + +Starratt stared. He had never seen his wife so kindled with morbid +excitement. + +"I ... I thought you didn't like to hear unpleasant stories," he threw +at her, disagreeably. + +She tossed the flaming cushion, upon which she had been leaning, into +a corner, a certain insolence in her quick gesture. + +"I don't like to _read_ about them," she retorted, and she turned a +wanton smile in the direction of Hilmer. + +At this juncture the maid opened the folding doors between the dining +room and the living room. She had on her hat and coat, and, as she +retreated to the kitchen, Helen Starratt flashed a significant look at +her husband. + +He followed the woman reluctantly. When he entered the kitchen she was +leaning against the sink, smoothing on a pair of faded silk gloves. + +"I'm sorry," he began, awkwardly, "but I forgot to cash a check +to-day. How much do you charge?" + +The woman's hands flew instinctively to her hips as she braced herself +into an attitude of defiance. + +"Three dollars!" she snapped. "And my car fare." + +He searched his pockets and held out a palm filled with silver for her +inspection. "I've just got two forty," he announced, apologetically. +"You see, we usually have Mrs. Finn. She knows us and I felt sure +she'd wait until next time. If you give me your address I can send you +the difference to-morrow." + +She tossed back her head. "Nothing doing!" she retorted. "I don't give +a damn what you thought. I want my money now or, by Gawd, I'll start +something!" + +Her voice had risen sharply. Starratt was sure that everybody could +hear. + +"I haven't got three dollars," he insisted, in a low voice. "Can't you +see that I haven't?" + +"Ask your wife, then." + +"She hasn't a cent... I should have cashed a check to-day, but I +forgot... You forget things sometimes, don't you?" + +He was conscious that his voice had drawn out in a snuffling appeal, +but he simply had to placate this female ogress in some way. + +"Ask your swell friends, then." + +"Why, I can't do that... I don't know them well enough. This is the +first time--" + +She cut him short with a snap of her ringers. "You don't know me, +either ... and I don't know you. That's the gist of the whole thing. +If you can ask a strange woman who's done an honest night's work to +wait for her money, you can ask a strange man to lend you sixty +cents... And, what's more, I'll wait right here until you do!" + +"Well, wait then!" he flung out, suddenly, as he pocketed the silver. + +He kicked open the swinging door and gained the dining room. She +followed close upon his heels. + +"Oh, I know your kind!" he heard her spitting out at him. "You're a +cheap skate trying to put up a front! But you won't get by with me, +not if I know it!... You come through with three dollars or I'll wreck +this joint!" + +A crash followed her harangue. Starratt turned. A tray of Haviland +cups and saucers lay in a shattered heap upon the floor. + +He raised a threatening finger at her. "Will you be good enough to +leave this house!" he commanded. + +She thrust a red-knuckled fist into his face. "Not much I won't!" she +defied him, swinging her head back and forth. + +He fell back sharply. What was he to do? He couldn't kick her out... +He heard a chair scraped back noisily upon the hardwood floor of the +living room. Presently Hilmer stood at his side. + +"Let me handle her!" Hilmer said, quietly. + +Starratt gave a gesture of assent. + +His guest took one stride toward the obstreperous female. "Get out! +Understand?" + +She stopped the defiant seesawing of her head. + +"Wot in hell..." she was beginning, but her voice suddenly broke into +tearful blubbering. "I'm a poor, lone widder woman--" + +He took her arm and gave her a significant shove. + +"Get out!" he repeated, with brief emphasis. + +She cast a look at him, half despair and half admiration. He pointed +to the door. She went. + +Hilmer laughed and regained the living room. Starratt hesitated. + +"I guess I'd better pick up the mess," he said, with an attempt at +nonchalance. + +Nobody made any reply. He bent over the litter. Above the faint tinkle +of shattered porcelain dropping upon the lacquered tray he heard his +wife's voice cloying the air with unpleasant sweetness as she said: + +"Oh yes, Mr. Hilmer, you were telling us about the time you fought a +man with a dirk knife ... for a half loaf of bread." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When the Hilmers left, about half past eleven, Starratt went down to +the curb with them, on the pretext of looking at Hilmer's new car. It +proved to be a very late and very luxurious model. + +"Is it insured?" asked Starratt, as he lifted Mrs. Hilmer in. + +"What a hungry bunch you insurance men are!" Hilmer returned. "You're +the fiftieth man that's asked me that." + +Starratt flushed. The business end of his suggestion had been the last +thing in his mind. He managed to voice a commonplace protest, and +Hilmer, taking his place at the wheel, said: + +"Come in and talk it over sometime... Perhaps _you_ can persuade me." + +Starratt smiled pallidly and the car shot forward. He watched it out +of sight. Instead of going back into the house he walked aimlessly +down the block. He had no objective beyond a desire to kill the time +and give Helen a chance to retire before he returned. He wasn't in a +mood for talking. + +It was not an unusual thing for him to take a stroll before turning +in, and habit led him along a beaten path. He always found it +fascinating to dip down the Hyde Street hill toward Lombard Street, +where he could glimpse both the bay and the opposite shore. Then, he +liked to pass the old-fashioned gardens spilling the mingled scent of +heliotrope and crimson sage into the lap of night. There was something +fascinating and melancholy about this venerable quarter that had been +spared the ravages of fire ... overlooked, as it were, by the +relentless flames, either in pity or contempt. There had been +marvelous tales concerning this section's escape from the holocaust of +1906, when San Francisco had been shaken by earthquake and shriveled +by flames. One house had been saved by a crimson flood of wine +siphoned from its fragrant cellar, another by pluck and a garden hose, +a third by quickly hewn branches of eucalyptus and cypress piled +against the outside walls as a screen to the blistering heat. Trees +and hedges and climbing honeysuckle had contributed, no doubt, to the +defense of these relics of a more genial day, but the dogged +determination of their owners to save their old homes at any cost must +have been the determining factor, Starratt had often thought, as he +lingered before the old picket fences, in an attempt to revive his +memories of other days. He could not remember, of course, quite back +to the time when the Hyde Street hill had been in an opulent heyday, +but the flavor of its quality had trickled through to his generation. +This was the section where his mother had languished in the prim gloom +of her lamp-shaded parlor before his father's discreet advances. The +house was gone ... replaced by a bay-windowed, jig-sawed horror of the +'80s, but the garden still smiled, its quaint fragrance reënforced at +the proper season by the belated blossoms of a homesick and +wind-bitten magnolia. He was sure, judged by present-day standards, +that his mother's old home must have been a very modest, genial sort +of place ... without doubt a clapboard, two-storied affair with a +single wide gable and a porch running the full length of the front. +But, in a day when young and pretty women were at a premium, one did +not have to live in a mansion to attract desirable suitors, and Fred +Starratt had often heard his mother remind his father without +bitterness of the catches that had been thrown her way. Not that +Starratt, senior, had been a bad prospect matrimonially. Quite the +contrary. He had come from Boston in the early '70s, of good +substantial family, and with fair looks and a capacity for getting on. +Likewise, a chance for inside tips on the stock market, since he had +elected to go in with a brokerage firm. And so they were married, with +all of conservative San Francisco at the First Unitarian Church to see +the wedding, leavened by a sprinkling of the very rich and a dash of +the ultrafashionable. Unfortunately, the inside tips didn't pan out +... absurd and dazzling fortune was succeeded by appalling and +irretrievable failure. Starratt, senior, was too young a man to +succumb to the scurvy trick of fate, but he never quite recovered. +Gradually the Starratt family fell back a pace. To the last there were +certain of the old guard who still remembered them with bits of +coveted pasteboard for receptions or marriages or anniversary +celebrations ... but the Starratts became more and more a memory +revived by sentiment and less and less a vital reality. + +Fred Starratt used to speculate, during his nocturnal wandering among +the shadows of his parents' youthful haunts, just what his position +would have been had these stock-market tips proved gilt edged. He +tried to imagine himself the master of a splendid estate down the +peninsula--preferably at Hillsboro--possessed of high-power cars and a +string of polo ponies ... perhaps even a steam yacht... But these +dazzling visions were not always in the ascendant. There were times +when a philanthropic dream moved him more completely and he had naïve +and varied speculations concerning the help that he could have placed +in the way of the less fortunate had he been possessed of unlimited +means. Or, again, his hypothetical wealth put him in the way of the +education that placed him easily at the top of a stirring profession. + +"If I'd only had half a chance!" would escape him. + +This was a phrase borrowed unconsciously from his mother. She was +never bitter nor resentful at their profitless tilt with fortune +except as it had reacted on her son. + +"You should have gone to college," she used to insist, regretfully, +summing up by implication his lack of advancement. At first he took a +measure of comfort in her excuse; later he came to be irritated by it. +And in moments of truant self-candor he admitted he could have made +the grade with concessions to pride. There were plenty of youths who +worked their way through. But he always had moved close to the edge of +affluent circles, where he had caught the cold but disturbing glow of +their standards. He left high school with pallid ideals of gentility, +ideals that expressed themselves in his reasons for deciding to enter +an insurance office. Insurance, he argued, was a _nice_ business, one +met _nice_ people, one had _nice_ hours, one was placed in _nice_ +surroundings. He had discovered later that one drew a _nice_ salary, +too. Well, at least, he had had the virtue of choosing without a very +keen eye for the financial returns. + +Ten years of being married to a woman who demanded a _nice_ home and +_nice_ clothes and a circle of _nice_ friends had done a great deal +toward making him a little skeptical about the soundness of his +standards. But his moments of uncertainty were few and fleeting, +called into life by such uncomfortable circumstances as touching old +Wetherbee for money or putting his tailor off when the date for his +monthly dole fell due. He had never been introspective enough to quite +place himself in the social scale, but when, in his thought or +conversation, he referred to people of the _better class_ he +unconsciously included himself. He was not a drunken, disorderly, or +radical member of society, and he didn't black boots, or man a ship, +or sell people groceries, or do any of the things that were done in +overalls and a soft shirt, therefore it went without saying that he +belonged to the better class. That was synonymous with admitting that +one kept one's ringer nails clean and used a pocket handkerchief. + +Suddenly, with the force of a surprise slap in the face, it had been +borne in upon him that he was not any of the fine things he imagined. +He was sure that his insolent guest, Hilmer, had not meant to be +disagreeable at the moment when he had said: + +"Stiffening the backbone of the _middle class_ is next to impossible!" + +"The middle class"! The phrase had brought up even Helen Starratt with +a round turn. One might have called them both peasants with equal +temerity. No, Hilmer had not made _that_ point consciously, and +therein lay its sting. + +To-night, as he accomplished his accustomed pilgrimage to the tangible +shrine of his ancestors, and stood leaning against the gate which +opened upon the garden that had smiled upon his mother's wooing, he +determined once and for all to establish his position in life... _Did_ +he belong to the middle class, and, granting the premises, was it a +condition from which one could escape or a fixed heritage that could +neither be abandoned nor denied? In a country that made flamboyant +motions toward democracy, he knew that the term was used in contempt, +if not reproach. Had the class itself brought on this disesteem? Did +it really exist and what defined it? Was it a matter of scant worldly +possessions, or commonplace brain force, or breeding, or just an +attitude of mind? Was it a term invented by the crafty to dash cold +water upon the potential unity of a scattered force? Was it a +scarecrow for frightening greedy and resourceful flocks from a +concerted assault upon the golden harvests of privilege?... The +questions submerged him in a swift flood. He did not know ... he could +not tell. Unaccustomed as he was to thinking in the terms of group +consciousness, he fell back, naturally, upon the personal aspects of +the case. He was sure of one thing--Hilmer's contempt and scorn. In +what class did Hilmer place himself? Above or below?... But the answer +came almost before it was framed--Hilmer looked _down_ upon him. That +almost told the story, but not quite. Had Hilmer climbed personally to +upper circles or had the strata in which he found himself embedded +been pushed up by the slow process of time? Had the term "middle +class" become a misnomer? Was it really on the lowest level now? +Perhaps it was ... perhaps it always had been... But so was the +foundation of any structure. Foundation?... The thought intrigued him, +but only momentarily. Who wanted to bear the crushing weight of +arrogant and far-flung battlements? + +He retraced his steps, his thoughts still busy with Hilmer. Here was a +typical case of what America could yield to the nature that had the +insolence to ravish her. America was still the tawny, primitive, +elemental jade who gave herself more readily to a rough embrace than a +soft caress. She reserved her favors for those who wrested them from +her...she had no patience with the soft delights of persuasion. It was +strange how much rough-hewn vitality had poured into her embrace from +the moth-eaten civilization of the Old World. Starratt was only a +generation removed from a people who had subdued a wilderness ... he +was not many generations removed from a people who wrestled naked with +God for a whole continent--that is, they had begun to wrestle; the +years that had succeeded found them still eager and shut-lipped for +the conflict. They had abandoned the struggle only when they had found +their victory complete. Naturally, soft days had followed. Was eternal +conflict the price of strength? Starratt found himself wondering. And +was he a product of these soft days, the rushing whirlwinds of Heaven +stilled, the land drowsy with the humid heat of a slothful noonday? He +had never thought of these things before. Even when he had thrilled to +the vision of line upon line of his comrades marching away to the +blood-soaked fields of France he had surrendered to a primitive +emotion untouched by the poetry of deep understanding. He thrilled not +because he knew that these people were doing the magnificent, the +decent thing ... but because he merely felt it. He had his faiths, but +he had not troubled to prove them ... he had not troubled even to +_doubt_ them. + +His disquiet sharpened all of his perceptions. He never remembered a +time when the cool fragrance of the night had fallen upon his senses +with such a personal caress. He had come out into its starlit presence +flushed with narrow, sordid indignation ... smarting under the trivial +lashes which insolence and circumstance had rained upon his vanity. +His walk in the dusky silence had not stilled his restlessness, but it +had given his impatience a larger scope ... and as he stood for one +last backward glimpse at the twinkling magnificence of this February +night he felt stirred by almost heroic rancors. The city lay before +him in crouched somnolence, ready to leap into life at the first flush +of dawn, and, in the chilly breath of virgin spring, little truant +warmths and provocative perfumes stirred the night with subtle +prophecies of summer. + +His exaltation persisted even after he had turned the key in his own +door to find the light still blazing, betraying the fact of Helen's +wakeful presence. He dallied over the triviality of hanging up his +hat. + +She was reading when he gained the threshold of the tiny living room. +At the sound of his footsteps she flung aside the magazine in her +hand. Her thick brows were drawn together in insolent impatience. + +"Oh," he exclaimed, inadequately, "I thought you'd be asleep!" + +"Asleep?" she queried, in a voice that cut him with its swift stroke. +"You didn't fancy that I could compose myself that quickly ... after +everything that's happened to-night ... did you? I've been humiliated +more than once in my life, but never quite so badly. Uncalled for, too +... that's the silly part of it." + +He stood motionless in the doorway. "I'm sorry I forgot the money," he +returned, dully. "But it's all past and gone now. And I think the +Hilmers understood." + +"Yes ... they understood. That's another humiliating thing." She +laughed tonelessly. "It must be amusing to watch people like us +attempting to be somebody and do something on an income that can't be +stretched far enough to pay a sloppy maid her wages." + +It was not so much what she said, but her manner that chilled him to +sudden cold anger. "Well ... you know our income, down to the last +penny... You know just how much I've overdrawn this month, too. Why do +you invite strangers to dinner under such conditions?" + +She rose, drawing herself up to an arrogant height. "I invite them for +_your_ sake," she said, with slow emphasis. "If you played your cards +well you might get in right with Hilmer. He's a big man." + +"Yes," he flung back, dryly, "and a damned insolent one, too." + +"He has his faults," she defended. "He's not polished, but he's +forceful." She turned a malevolent smile upon her husband. "When he +told that drunken servant girl to go, she went!" + +Starratt could feel the rush of blood dyeing his temples. "That's just +in his line!" he sneered. "He's taken degrading orders, and so he +knows how to give them... He may have money now, but he hasn't always +been so fortunate. I've been short of funds in my day, but I never +fought with a dirk for a half loaf of bread... You've heard the story +of his life... What has he got to make him proud?" + +"Just that ... he's pulled himself out of it. While we... Tell me, +where are we? Where will we be ten years from now?... Twenty? Why +aren't you doing something?... Everybody else is." + +He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Perhaps I am," he +said, quietly. "You don't know everything." + +She made a movement toward him. He stepped aside to let her pass. + +"What can _you_ do?" she taunted as she swept out of the room. + +He stood for a moment dazed at the sudden and unexpected budding of +her scorn. He heard her slam the door of the bedroom. He went over to +the chair from which she had risen and dropped into it, shading his +eyes. + +The clock in the hallway was chiming two when the bedroom door opened +again. + +"Aren't you coming to bed?" he heard his wife's voice call with sharp +irritation. + +"No," he answered. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was extraordinary how wide awake Fred Starratt felt next morning. +He was full of tingling reactions to the sharp chill of +disillusionment. At the breakfast table he met his wife's advances +with an air of tolerant aloofness. In the past, the first moves toward +adjusting a misunderstanding had come usually from him. He had an +aptitude for kindling the fires of domestic harmony, but he had +discovered overnight the futility of fanning a hearthstone blaze when +the flue was choked so completely. Before him lay the task of first +correcting the draught. Temporary genialities had no place in his +sudden, bleak speculations. Helen shirred his eggs to a turn, pressed +the second cup of coffee on him, browned him a fresh slice of toast +... he suffered her favors, but he was unmoved by them. They did not +even annoy him. When he kissed her good-by he felt the relaxation of +her body against his, as she stood for a moment languishing in +provocative surrender. He put her aside sharply. Her caress had a new +quality which irritated him. + +Outside, the morning spread its blue-gold tail in wanton splendor. +February in San Francisco! Fred Starratt drew in a deep breath and +wondered where else in the whole world one could have bettered that +morning at any season of the year. Like most San Franciscans, he had +never flown very far afield, but he was passionate in his belief that +his native city "had it on any of them," to use his precise term. And +he was resentful to a degree at any who dared in his presence to +establish other claims or to even suggest another preference. He +looked forward to New York as an experience, but never as a goal. No, +San Francisco was good enough for him! + +He felt the same conviction this morning, but a vague gypsying stirred +his blood also, and a wayfaring urge swept him. The sky was +indescribably blue, washed clean by a moist January that had drenched +the hills to lush-green life. The bay lay in a sapphire drowse, +flecked by idle-winged argosies, unfolding their storm-soaked sails to +the caressing sunlight. Soaring high above the placid gulls, an +airplane circled and dipped like a huge dragon fly in nuptial flight. +Through the Golden Gate, shrouded in the delicate mists evoked by the +cool night, an ocean liner glided with arrogant assurance. + +From the last vantage point, before he slipped townward to his +monotonous duties, Starratt stood, shading his eyes, watching the +stately exit of this maritime giant. This was a morning for starting +adventure...for setting out upon a quest!... He had been stirred +before to such Homeric longings ... spring sunshine could always prick +his blood with sharp-pointed desire. But to-day there was a poignant +melancholy in his flair for a wider horizon. He was touched by +weariness as well as longing. He was like a pocket hunter whose +previous borrowings had beguiled him with flashing grains that proved +valueless. He would not abandon his search, but he must pack up and +move on to new, uncertain, unproved ground. And he felt all the weight +of hidden and heartbreaking perils with which his spiritual faring +forth must of necessity be hedged. + +At the corner of California and Montgomery streets he met the tide of +nine-o'clock commuters surging toward the insurance offices and banks. +His widened vision suddenly contracted. Middle class! The phrase +leaped forward from the flock mind which this standardized concourse +diffused. In many of the faces he read the potentialities of infinite +variety, smothered by a dull mask of conformity. What a relief if but +one in that vast flood would go suddenly mad! He tried fantastically +to picture the effect upon the others--the momentary cowardice and +braveries that such an event would call into life. For a few brief +moments certain personalities and acts would stand out sharply +glorified, like grains of dust dancing in the slanting rays of the +sun. Then, the angle of yellow light restored to white normality, the +whirling particles would drift back into their colorless oblivion. + +For a moment he had a taste of desire for unspringing power. If he +could but be the wind to shake these dry reeds of custom into a +semblance of life!... One by one they passed him with an air of +growing preoccupation ... each step was carrying them nearer to the +day's pallid slavery, and an unconscious sense of their genteel +serfdom seemed gradually to settle on them. There were no bent nor +broken nor careworn toilers among this drab mass...the stamp of long +service here was a withered, soul-quenched gentility that came of +accepting life instead of struggling against it. + +Gradually the temper of the crowd communicated itself to him. It was +time to descend from his speculative heights and face the problems of +his workday world. He turned sharply toward his office. Young Brauer +was just mounting the steps. + +"Well, what's new?" Brauer threw out, genially. + +"Not a thing in the world!" escaped Starratt. + +They went into the office together. + +Old Wetherbee was carrying his cash book out of the safe. The old man +smiled. He was usually in good humor early in the morning. + +"Well, what's new?" he inquired, gayly. + +"Not a thing in the world!" they chimed, almost in chorus. + +At the rear of the office they slipped on their office coats. Brauer +took a comb from his pocket and began carefully to define the part in +his already slick hair. Starratt went forward. + +In the center of the room the chief stenographer stood, putting her +formidable array of pencils through the sharpener. She glanced up at +Starratt with a complacent smile. + +"Oh, good morning, Mr. Starratt!" she purred, archly. "What's new with +you?" + +"Not a thing in the world," he answered, ironically, and he began to +arrange some memoranda in one of the wire baskets on his desk... At +nine thirty the boy brought him his share of the mail from the back +office, and in ten minutes he was deeply absorbed in sorting the +"daily reports" from the various agencies. He worked steadily, +interrupted by an occasional phone call, an order from the chief +clerk, the arrival and departure of business associates and clients. +Above the hum of subdued office conversation the click of typewriting +machines and the incessant buzzing of the desk telephones, he was +conscious of hearing the same question repeated with monotonous +fidelity: + +"Hello! What's new with you?" + +And as surely, either through his own lips or the lips of another, the +identical reply always came: + +"Not a thing in the world!" + +At half past eleven he stopped deliberately and stood for a moment, +nervously fingering his tie. He was thinking about the course of +action that he had decided upon in that long, unusual vigil of the +night before. His uncertainty lasted until the remembrance of his +wife's scornful question swept over him: + +"Why aren't you doing something?... Everybody else is!" + +But it was the answer he had made that committed him irrevocably to +his future course: + +"Perhaps I am. You don't know everything." + +He had felt a sense of fatality bound up in these words of defiant +pretense, once they had escaped him...a fatality which the blazing +contempt of his wife's retort had emphasized. Even now his cheeks +burned with the memory of that unleashed insult: + +"What can _you_ do?" + +No, there was no turning back now. His own self-esteem could not deny +so clear-cut a challenge. + +He called his assistant. "I wish you'd go into the private office and +see if Mr. Ford is at leisure," he ordered. "I want to have a talk +with him." + +The youth came back promptly. "He says for you to come," was his brief +announcement. + +Fred Starratt stared a moment and, recovering himself, walked swiftly +in upon his employer. Mr. Ford was signing insurance policies. + +"Well, Starratt," he said, looking up smilingly, "what's the good +word?... What's new with you?" + +Starratt squared himself desperately. "Nothing...except I find it +impossible to live upon my salary." + +Mr. Ford laid aside his pen. "Oh, that's unfortunate!... Suppose you +sit down and we'll talk it over." + +Starratt dropped into the nearest seat. + +Mr. Ford let his eyeglasses dangle from their cord. He was not in the +least disturbed. Indeed, he seemed to be approaching the issue with +unqualified pleasure. + +"Now, Starratt, let's get at the root of the trouble... Of course +you're a reasonable man otherwise..." + +Starratt smiled ironically. A vivid remembrance of Hilmer's words +flashed over him. His lip-curling disdain must have communicated +itself to Mr. Ford, because that gentleman hesitated, cleared his +throat, and began all over again. + +"You're a reasonable man, Starratt, and I know that you have the +interest of the firm at heart." + +Starratt leaned back in his seat and listened, but he might have +spared himself the pains. Somehow he anticipated every word, every +argument, before Mr. Ford had a chance to voice them. Business +conditions were uncertain, overhead charges extraordinarily increased, +the loss ratio large and bidding fair to cut their bonus down to +nothing. Therefore ... well, of course, next year things might be +different. The firm was hoping that by next year they would be in a +position to deal handsomely with those of their force who had been +patient... Mr. Ford did not stop there, he did not expect Starratt to +take his word for anything. He reached for a pencil and pad and he +went into a mathematic demonstration to show just how near the edge of +financial disaster the firm of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. had been pushed. +Starratt could not doubt the figures, and yet his eyes traveled +instinctively to the bag of golf sticks in a convenient corner. +Somehow, nothing in either Ford's argument or his sleek presence +irritated Starratt so much as these golf sticks. For, in this +particular instance, they became the symbol of a self-sufficient +prosperity whose first moves toward economy were directed at those who +serve... If all this were so, why didn't Ford begin by cutting down +his own allowance, by trimming his own expenses to the bone? Golf, as +Mr. Ford played it, was an expensive luxury. No doubt the exercise was +beneficial, but puttering about a garden would have done equally. +Starratt might have let all this pass. He was by heart and nature and +training a conservative and he had sympathy for the genial vanities of +life. It was Ford's final summary, the unconscious patronage, the +quiet, assured insolence of his words, which gave Starratt his +irrevocable cue. + +"We rather look to men like you, Starratt," Mr. Ford was saying, his +voice suave to the point of insincerity, "to tide us over a crisis. +Just now, when the laboring element is running amuck, it's good to +feel that the country has a large percentage of people who can be +reasonable and understand another viewpoint except their own... After +everything is said and done, in business a man's first loyalty is to +the firm he works for." + +"Why?" Starratt threw out sharply. + +Ford's pallid eyes widened briefly. "I think the answer is obvious, +Starratt. Don't you? The hand that feeds a man is..." + +"_Feeds?_ That may work both ways." + +"I don't quite understand." + +Starratt's glance traveled toward the golf sticks. "Well, it seems to +me it's a case of one man cutting down on necessities to provide +another with luxuries." He hated himself once he had said it. It +outraged his own sense of breeding. + +Mr. Ford shoved the pencil and pad to one side. "A parlor radical, +eh?... Well, this from _you_ is surprising!... If there was one man in +my employ whom I counted on, it was you. You've been with me over +fifteen years ... began as office boy, as I remember. And in all that +time you've never even asked for a privilege... I'm sorry to see such +a fine record broken!" + +Yesterday Starratt would have agreed with him, but now he felt moved +to indignation and shame at Ford's summary of his negative virtues. He +had been born with a voice and he had never lifted it to ask for his +rights, much less a favor. No wonder Hilmer could sneer and Helen +Starratt cut him with the fine knife of her scorn! The words began to +tumble to his lips. They came in swirling flood. He lost count of what +he was saying, but the angry white face of his employer foreshadowed +the inevitable end of this interview. He gave his rancor its full +scope ... protests, defiance, insults, even, heaping up in a +formidable pile. + +"You ask me to be patient," he flared, "because you think I'm a +reasonable, rational, considerate beast that can be broken to any +harness!" He recognized Hilmer's words, but he swept on. "If you were +in a real flesh-and-blood business you'd have felt the force of things +... you'd have had men with guts to deal with ... you'd have had a +brick or two heaved into your plate-glass window. A friend of mine +said last night that potting clerks was as sickening as a rabbit +drive. He was right, it is sickening!" + +Mr. Ford raised his hand. Starratt obeyed with silence. + +"I'm sorry, Starratt, to see _you_ bitten with this radical disease... +Of course, you can't stay on here, after this. Your confidence in us +seems to have been destroyed and it goes without saying that my +confidence in you has been seriously undermined. We'll give you a good +recommendation and a month's salary... But you had better leave at +once. A man in your frame of mind isn't a good investment for Ford, +Wetherbee & Co." + +Starratt was still quivering with unleashed heroics. "The +recommendation is coming to me," he returned, coldly. "The month's +salary isn't. I'll take what I've earned and not a penny more." + +"Very well; suit yourself there." + +Mr. Ford reached for his pen and began where he had left off at +Starratt's entrance ... signing insurance policies... Starratt rose +and left without a word. The interview was over. + +Already, in that mysterious way with which secrets flash through an +office with lightninglike rapidity, a hint of Starratt's brush with +Ford was illuminating the dull routine. + +"I think he's going into business for himself, or something," Starratt +heard the chief stenographer say in a stage whisper to her assistant, +as he passed. + +And at his desk he found Brauer waiting to waylay him with a bid for +lunch, his little ferret eyes attempting to confirm the general gossip +flying about. + +Starratt had an impulse to refuse, but instead he said, as evenly as +he could: + +"All right ... sure! Let's go now!" + +Brauer felt like eating oysters, so they decided to go up to one of +the stalls in the California Market for lunch. He was in an expansive +mood. + +"Let's have beer, too," he insisted, as they seated themselves. "After +the first of July they'll slap on war-time prohibition and it won't be +so easy." + +Starratt acquiesced. He usually didn't drink anything stronger than +tea with the noonday meal, because anything even mildly alcoholic made +him loggy and unfit for work, but the thought that to-day he was free +intrigued him. + +The waiter brought the usual plate of shrimps that it was customary to +serve with an oyster order, and Starratt and Brauer fell to. A glass +of beer foamed with enticing amber coolness before each plate. Brauer +reached over and lifted his glass. + +"Well, here's success to crime!" he said, with pointed facetiousness. + +Starratt ignored the lead. He had never liked Brauer and he did not +find this sharp-nosed inquisitiveness to his taste. He began to wonder +why he had come with him. Lunching with Brauer had never been a habit. +Occasionally, quite by accident, they managed to achieve the same +restaurant and the same table, but it was not a matter of +prearrangement. Indeed, Starratt had always prided himself at his +ability to keep Brauer at arm's length. A subtle change had occurred. +Was it possible that a borrowed five-dollar bill could so reshape a +relationship? Well, he would pay him back once he received his monthly +salary, and get over with the obligation. His monthly salary?... +Suddenly it broke over him that he had received the last full month's +salary that he would ever get from Ford, Wetherbee & Co. It was the +20th of February, which meant, roughly, that about two thirds of his +one hundred and fifty dollars would be coming to him if he still held +to his haughty resolve to take no more than he had earned. Two thirds +of one hundred and fifty, less sixty-odd dollars overdrawn... He was +recalled from his occupation by Brauer's voice rising above the +clatter of carelessly flung crockery and tableware. + +"Is it true you're leaving the first of the month?" + +He liked Brauer better for this direct question, although the man's +presumption still rankled. + +"I'm leaving to-day," he announced, dryly, not without a feeling of +pride. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"I haven't decided... Perhaps...I don't know ... I _may_ become an +insurance broker." + +Brauer picked through the mess in his plate for an unshelled shrimp. +"That takes money," he ventured, dubiously. + +"Oh, not a great deal," Starratt returned, ruffling a trifle. "Office +rent for two or three months before the premiums begin to come in ... +a little capital to furnish up a room. I might even get some one to +give me a desk in his office until I got started. It's done, you +know." + +Brauer neatly extracted a succulent morsel from its scaly sheath. +"Don't you think it's better to put up a front?" he inquired. "If +you've got a decent office and your own phone and a good stenographer +it makes an impression when you're going after business... Why don't +you go in with somebody?... There ought to be plenty of fellows ready +to put up their money against your time." + +"Who, for instance?" escaped Starratt, involuntarily. + +Brauer shoved his plate of husked shrimps to one side. "Take me. I've +saved up quite a bit, and..." + +The waiter broke in upon them with the oysters. + +Starratt knitted his brows. "Well, why not?" was his mental +calculation. + +Brauer ordered two more pints of beer. + +Starratt had leaned at first toward keeping his business venture a +secret from Helen. But in the end a boyish eagerness to sun himself in +the warmth of her surprise unlocked his reserve. + +"I've quit Ford-Wetherbee," he said, quietly, that night, as she was +seating herself after bringing on the dessert. + +He had never seen such a startled look flash across her face. + +"What! Did you have trouble?" + +He decided swiftly not to give her the details. He didn't want her to +think that any outside influence had pushed him into action. + +"Oh no!..." he drawled, lightly. "I've been thinking of leaving for +some time. Working for another person doesn't get you anywhere." + +He could see that she was puzzled, perhaps a little annoyed. Last +night in a malicious moment she had been quite ready to sneer at her +husband's inactivity, but now, with the situation a matter of practice +rather than theory, Starratt felt that she was having her misgivings. +A suggestion of a frown hovered above her black eyebrows. + +"You can't mean that you're going into business!" she returned, as she +passed him a dish of steaming pudding. + +There was a suggestion of last night's scorn in her incredulity. + +"No?... And why not?" + +She cast a sidelong glance at him. "That takes money," she objected. + +He knew now, from her tone, what was behind the veil of her +intimations and he found a curious new pleasure in watching her +squirm. + +"Oh, well," he half mused, "I guess we'll struggle through somehow. +We've always managed to." + +She leaned one elbow heavily on the table. "_More_ economies, I +suppose!" + +He had trapped her too easily! It was his turn to be cutting. "Don't +worry!... I sha'n't ask you to do without any more than you've done +without so far. If you can stand it as it is awhile longer, why ..." +He broke off with a shrug. + +Her eyes swam in a sudden mist. "You're not fair!" she sniffed. "I'm +thinking as much of you as I am of myself. Going into business isn't +only a question of money. There are anxieties and worry ... and ... +and ..." She recovered herself swiftly and looked at him with clear, +though reproachful, eyes. "I'm always willing to help ... you know +that!" + +He melted at once. There was a moment of silence, and then he told her +everything ... about Brauer, and what they purposed. + +"He's to keep on at Ford-Wetherbee's until things are running +smoothly. Of course, I'd rather not have it that way, but he holds the +purse strings, so I've got to make concessions. We can get an office +for twenty-five a month. It will be the salary of the stenographer +that will count up." + +"When do you start?" + +"To-morrow. And do you know who I'm going after first thing?... +Hilmer. He told me last night to come around and talk over insuring +that car of his... I don't know that I'll land that. But I might line +him up for something else. He must have a lot of insurance to place +one way or another." + +She smiled dubiously. "Well, I wouldn't count too much upon Hilmer," +she said, with a superior air. + +"I'm not counting on anything or anybody," he returned, easily. +"Hilmer isn't the only fish in the sea." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was noon before Helen Starratt finished her housework next +morning--an unusually late hour for her, but she had been preoccupied, +and her movements slow in consequence. A four-room apartment, with +hardwood floors and a vacuum cleaner, was hardly a serious task for a +full-grown woman, childless, and with a vigor that reacted perfectly +to an ice-cold shower at 7 A.M. She used to look back occasionally at +the contrast her mother's life had presented. Even with a servant, a +three-storied, bay-windowed house had not given Mrs. Somers much +leisure for women's clubs. The Ladies Aid Society and a Christmas +festival in the church parlors were about as far along the road of +alleged social service as the woman of the last generation had +traveled. There was marketing to do, and sewing continually on hand, +and house-cleaning at stated intervals. In Helen Somers's old home the +daily routine had been as inflexible as its ancestor's original +Calvinistic creed--Monday, washing; Tuesday, ironing; Wednesday, +cleaning the silver; Thursday, at home to visitors; Friday, sweeping; +Saturday, baking; and Sunday, the hardest day of all. For, withal, the +Puritan sense of observance, that had not been utterly swamped by the +blue and enticing skies of California, Sunday was a feast day, not in +a lightsome sense, but in a dull, heavy, gastronomic way, unleavened +by either wine or passable wit. On Sunday the men of the family +returned home from church and gorged. If the day were fine, perhaps +everybody save mother took a cable-car ride, or a walk, or something +equally exciting. The sparkle of environment had won these people away +from tombstone reading and family prayers as a Sabbath diversion, but +even California could not be expected to make over a bluestocking in +an eye's twinkling. Mother, of course, stayed home on Sunday to "pick +up" and get ready for supper in the absence of the servant girl. A +later generation had the grace to elevate these slatternly drudges to +the title of maid, but a sterner ancestry found it expedient to be +more practical and less pretentious in its terms. On these drab +Sundays Helen Somers had passionately envied the children of foreign +breed, who seemed less hedged about by sabbatical restrictions. Not +that she wished her family to _be_ of the questionable sort that went +to El Campo or Shell Mound Park for Sunday picnics and returned in +quarrelsome state at a late hour smelling of bad whisky and worse gin. +Nor did she aspire to have sprung from the Teutonic stock that +perpetrated more respectable but equally noisy outings in the vicinity +of Woodward's Gardens. But she had a furtive and sly desire to float +oil-like upon the surface of this turbid sea, touching it at certain +points, yet scarcely mixing with it. Indeed, this inclination to taste +the core of life without committing herself the further indiscretion +of swallowing it grew to such proportions that at the age of fifteen +she almost succumbed to its allurement. Even at this late date she +could recall every detail of a seemingly casual conversation which she +had held with the stalwart butcher boy who came daily to the kitchen +door to deliver meat. The first day she merely had broached the +subject of Sunday picnics; the second she had intrigued him into +giving her one or two fleeting details; the third day she held him +captive a full ten minutes while he enlarged upon his subject. And so +on, until one morning he said, quite directly: + +"Would you like to go to one?... If you do, I'll take you." + +She had drawn back at first from this frontal attack, but in the end +she decided to chance the experience. She pretended to her mother that +she was going to see a girl friend who was sick. She met her crude +cavalier at the ferry. She even boarded the boat with him. At first he +had been a bit constrained and shy, but soon she felt the warm, moist +pressure of his thick-fingered hands against hers. And presently his +arm encircled her waist. With curious intuition she realized the +futility of struggling against him... She had to admit, in the end, +that she found his physical nearness pleasurable... She often had +wondered, looking back on that day, what might have happened if she +had gone through with this truant indiscretion. But halfway on the +journey her escort had deserted her momentarily to buy a cigar. Left +alone upon the upper deck of a ferryboat, crowded with a strident and +raucous company, she had felt herself suddenly grow cold, not with +fear, but with a certain haughty and disdainful anger. These people +were not her kind! She had risen swiftly from her seat and hidden +discreetly in the ladies' washroom until after the boat had landed and +was on its way back to the city. When she got home she found the house +in confusion. Her father had been taken suddenly ill. + +"I came very near sending to Nellie's for you," her mother had said. + +The incident had taught her a lesson, but there were times when she +regretted its termination--when she was stirred to a certain morbid +and profitless speculation as to what might have been. + +Shortly after this a reaction began to set in against the dullness +which certain people found desirable in the observation of what they +were pleased to call with questionable humility the Lord's Day, and by +the time Helen had budded to womanhood this new tide was at its flood. +People, even piously inclined, were taking houses across the bay, at +Belvedere or Sausalito or Mill Valley, for the summer. Somehow, one +didn't go to church during this holiday. Friends came over for +Saturday and Sunday to visit, and the term "week-end" became +intelligible and acquired significance. The Somerses took a cottage +for three successive seasons in Belvedere--that is, they spoke of it +as a cottage. In reality, it was the abandoned hulk of a ferryboat +that had been converted into rather uncomfortable quarters and set up +on the slimy beach. The effect of this unconventional habitation +slowly undermined the pale ghost of the Somers' family tradition. They +became bohemian. Instead of the lugubrious Sunday feast of thick +joints and heavy puddings, they began to make the acquaintance of the +can opener. And from can opener to corkscrew it was only a brief +step... It was at this point that Helen met Fred Starratt. Quite +naturally the inevitable happened. Moonlight rowing in the cove at +Belvedere, set to the tune of mandolins, was always providing a job +for the parson, and, if the truth were told, for the divorce courts as +well. It all had been pleasant enough, and normal enough, and the +expected thing. That's what young people always did if the proper +setting were provided, especially when the moon kept on the job. + +Helen Starratt had read about the thrills that the heroines of novels +received from the mating fever, but she had to confess that she had +not experienced anything as exciting as a thrill during the entire +period of her husband's wooing. She had felt satisfaction, a mild +triumph, a gratified vanity, if you will, but that was as far as her +emotional experience had gone. After all, her career had been +marriage, and she had taken the most likely situation that had been +offered. She presumed it was the same when one graduated from business +college. You were expected to land a job and you did. Sometimes it was +a good one, and then again it wasn't. Looking back, she conceded that +her choice had been fair. Fred Starratt didn't drink to excess, he +didn't beat or swear at her, he didn't make sarcastic remarks about +her relations, or do any of the things which anyone who reads the +daily papers discovers so many men do under provocation or otherwise. +But, on the other hand, he hadn't made a fortune or bought a car or +given her any reason for feeling compensated for the lack of marital +excitement. His friends called him a nice fellow--in some ways as +damning a thing as one could say about anybody--and let it go at that. +However, Helen Starratt's vocabulary was just as limited when it came +to characterizing her conventional aims and ambitions. If, +occasionally, her speculations stirred the muddy reaches of certain +furtive desires, she took care that they did not become articulate. +This term "nice" included every desirable virtue. One married nice +men, and one lived in a nice neighborhood, and one made nice +acquaintances. In her mother's day she had heard people say: + +"I believe in having the young folks identified with church work--they +meet such nice people." + +And years later a friend, attempting to interest her in the activities +of a local orphan asylum, had clinched every other argument by +stating, blandly: + +"You really ought to go in for it, Helen--you've no idea what nice +people you meet." + +When America's entry into the war brought up the question of Red Cross +endeavor, her first thought had been: + +"I really ought to do something, I suppose. And, besides, I'll meet +lots of nice people." + +Well, she had met a lot of nice people, but the only fruitful yield +socially had been Mrs. Hilmer. And somehow it never occurred to Helen +to apply such a discriminating term as nice to her latest acquisition. +Mrs. Hilmer was wholesome and good hearted and a dear, and no doubt +she was nice in a negative way, but one never thought about saying so. +And Hilmer...? No, he was not what one would call a nice man, but he +was tremendously interesting and in the hands of the right woman... +You see, Mrs. Hilmer was a good soul, but, of course, she didn't quite +... that is, she was a bit old fashioned and ... well, she didn't know +how, poor dear! + +Thus it was that over her household tasks on this particular February +morning Helen Starratt dawdled as her mind played with the fiction of +what Hilmer might become under the proper influence. Now, if _she_ had +married him!... + +It was all very well for Mrs. Hilmer to see that her lord and master +was fed properly, but why did she waste hours over a custard when she +had money enough to hire it done? That course didn't get either of +them anywhere--Hilmer remained at a level of torpid content, and +naturally he looked down on his wife as a sort of sublimated servant +girl who wasn't always preparing to leave and demanding higher +wages... No, most men fell too easily in the trap of their personal +comforts. Even Fred had become self-satisfied. Beyond his dinner and +paper and an occasional sober flight at the movies or bridge with old +friends he didn't seem to have any stirring ambitions. That was where +a wife came in. Hadn't she been casting around for bait that would +make Fred rise to something new? Hadn't she invited the Hilmers to +dinner in the hope that the two men would hit it off? The very first +time she had met Hilmer she had thought, "There's a man that Fred +ought to know." + +She was perfectly willing to concede certain virtues to her husband, +and she flattered herself that with the materials at her command she +had managed to keep Fred pretty well up to the scratch. The only thing +that had been lacking was plenty of money. If she had had one quarter +of Hilmer's income she would have evolved a husband that any woman +could have been proud of, instead of one that most women would have +found merely satisfactory... This was the way she had argued before +her absurd dinner party. She had to admit, after it was all over, that +her husband had managed to make her thoroughly ashamed of him. It was +better to have an outrageous husband than a ridiculous one. And she +fancied that Hilmer could be outrageous if he chose... But she was +sure of one thing ... if Hilmer came home and announced that he had +given up his position and had decided to plunge in boldly for himself, +his wife would scarcely give the matter a second thought. Hilmer would +carry the thing through ... _some way_. A man who could brain an +assailant and fight for a mouthful of bread would put things over by +hook or crook. There wasn't much chance for failure there. But Fred +Starratt ... well, he was apt to have some ridiculous scruple or too +keen a sense of business courtesy or a sensitiveness to rebuffs. Take +his passage at arms with the drunken maid ... if he had thrown her out +promptly, or come in and frankly borrowed the money from Hilmer, it +would have at least shown decision. + +Of course she couldn't do anything, now that he was committed to this +new business venture. It was all very well for him to snarl: "Don't +worry... I sha'n't ask you to do without any more than you've done +without so far." + +That was the lofty way most men theorized when their vanity was +wounded. But she knew enough to realize that if he failed she would +have to share that failure. Of course, if Fred could interest +Hilmer... Perhaps she could help things along in some way ... with a +chance remark to Mrs. Hilmer. Would it be better to cast the seed more +directly?... If she could only manage to run across Hilmer--she +wouldn't want to seem to be putting in her oar... Would it be very +dreadful if she were to think up some excuse and go beard the lion in +his den? + +She was still interested in her orphan asylum. Why not go ask him for +a subscription? She wondered if he would be very brusque; insulting, +even. The possibilities fascinated her. She felt that she would like a +passage at arms with him. He was a man worth worsting. Under such +circumstances Fred Starratt would be either liberal beyond his means +or profusely apologetic. Not by any chance would he give a prompt and +emphatic refusal... The more she thought about it the more enticing +the prospect became. She felt sure that if Hilmer didn't approve of +her charity he would say so frankly, perhaps disagreeably. And if he +didn't think much of her husband's venture he would be equally direct. +She rather wanted to know what he _did_ think about Fred Starratt. She +ended by coming to an emphatic decision. She would not only go, but +she would go that very afternoon. If there were any chance for her to +prepare an easy road for Fred's advance it lay in speedy action. + +When she finished dressing for the encounter and stood surveying +herself in the long mirror set into the closet door of her bedroom she +had to admit that she had missed none of her points. Most women at her +age would have been sagging a bit, the cords of youth slackened by the +weight of maternity or the continual pull against ill health and +genteel poverty. Or they would have been smothered in the plump +content of Mrs. Hilmer. Helen Starratt's slenderness had still a +virginal quality and she knew every artifice that heightened this +effect. To-day she was a trifle startled at quite the lengths she had +gone to strike a note of sophisticated youth. She had long since +ceased dressing consciously for her husband, and dressing for other +women was more a matter of perfect detail than attempted beguilement. +She was curious, she told herself, to see whether a man like Hilmer +would be impressed by feminine artifice... Did a black silk gown, with +spotless lace at wrist and throat, spell the acme of Hilmer's ideal of +womanhood? Was woman to him something durable and utilitarian or did +his fancy sometimes carry him to more decorative ideals? + +She did not go directly to his office; instead, she dawdled a bit over +the shop windows. Things were appallingly high, she noted with growing +dismay, especially the evening gowns. On the shrugging, simpering +French wax figures they were at once very scant and very vivid ... +strung with beads and shot through with gold thread or spangled with +flashing sequins. She tried to imagine Mrs. Hilmer in one of these +gaudy confections. Almost any of them would have looked well on Helen +herself. But any woman who went in for dressing at all would need a +trunkload, she concluded, if one were to decently last out a season. +She found herself speculating on just what class of people would +invest in these hectic flesh coverings. Certainly not the enormously +rich ... they didn't buy their provocative draperies from show +windows. And even the comfortably off might pause, she thought, before +throwing a couple of hundred dollars into a wisp of veiling that +didn't reach much below the knees and would look like a weather-beaten +cobweb after the second wearing. With all this talk about profiteering +and economy and the high cost of living, even Helen Starratt had to +admit that one could go without an evening gown at two hundred +dollars. But, judging from the shoppers on the street, there didn't +seem to be many who intended to do without them. She began to wonder +what her chances were for at least a spring tailor-made. She supposed +now, with Fred going into business, she would be expected to make her +old one do. Well, she decided she wouldn't make it do if she had to +beg on the street corner. She'd had it a year and a half, and during +war times that was quite all right. The best people had played +frumpish parts then. But now everybody was perking up. As for an +evening gown ... well, she simply couldn't conceive where even a +hundred dollars would be available for one of these spangled harem +veils that was passing muster as a full-grown dress... If she had +possessed untold wealth, all this flimsiness, this stylistic froth, +would have appealed to her; as it was, she was irritated by it. What +were things coming to? she demanded. Just when you thought you were up +to the minute, the styles changed overnight. It was the same with +household furniture. Ten years ago, when she and Fred had set up +housekeeping, everybody had exclaimed over her quaint bits of +mahogany, her neutral window drapes, even at her wonderful porcelain +gas range. Now, everything, from bed to dining-room table, was painted +in dull colors pricked by gorgeous designs; the hangings at the +windows screamed with color; electric stoves were coming in. The day +of polished surfaces and shining brass was over--antiques were no +longer the rage. + +Her dissatisfaction finally drove her toward Hilmer's office. She +stopped at one of the flower stands on Grant Avenue and bought a half +dozen daffodils. She begrudged the price she had to give for them, but +they did set off the dull raisin shade of her dress with a proper +flare of color. She concluded she would play up the yellow note in her +costuming oftener. Somehow it kindled her. She wondered for the first +time in her life what gypsy strain had flooded her with such dark +beauty. She stopped before a millinery shop and peered critically at +her reflection in a window mirror. Yes, the yellow note was a good +one, but she was still a trifle cold. If her lips had been a little +fuller... Strange she had never thought about that before. Well, next +time she would touch them ever so deftly into a suggestion of ripe +opulence. She sauntered slowly down Post Street, turned into +Montgomery. There were scarcely any women on the street and the men +who passed were, for the most part, in preoccupied flight. Yet she saw +more than one pair of eyes widen with brief appraisal as she went by. +Hilmer's offices were in the Merchants' Exchange Building. Helen +decided to slip in through the Montgomery Street entrance. She felt +that there might be a chance of running into Fred on California Street +and she didn't want to do that. + +As she shot up toward the eleventh story in the elevator she rehearsed +her opening scene with Hilmer. She decided to take her cue flippantly. +She would banter him at first and gradually veer to more serious +topics... But once she stood in his rather austere inner shrine of +business, she decided against subterfuges. He had stepped into the +main office, the boy who showed her in explained. Would she have a +seat? She dropped into a chair, taking in her background with feminine +swiftness. A barometer, a map, two stiffly painted pictures exhibiting +as many sailing vessels in full flight, a calendar bearing the +advertisement of a ship-chandlery firm--this was the extent of the +wall decoration. The office furniture was golden oak, the rugs of +indifferent neutrality. On his desk he had a picture of Mrs. Hilmer, +taken in a bygone day, very plump and blond and youthful in a soft, +tranquil way. And by its side, in a little ridiculously-blue glass +vase, some spring wild flowers languished, pallidly white and withered +by the heat of captivity. She checked an impulse to rise when he came +in. For a moment his virility had overwhelmed her into a feeling of +deference, but she recovered herself sufficiently to droop +nonchalantly into her seat as he gave her his hand. He was not in the +least put out of countenance by her unexpected presence, and she felt +a fleeting sense of disappointment, almost of pique. + +"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," she began, tritely. + +He swung his swivel chair toward her and sat down. "Yes, naturally," +he returned, with disconcerting candor. + +She touched the petals of her daffodils with a pensive finger. "Well, +really, you know, I'd quite made up my mind to pretend at first... +Women never like to come directly to the point. I thought up a silly +excuse--begging for an orphan asylum, to be exact. But I can see that +wouldn't go here... And I don't believe you're the least bit +interested in orphans." + +"Why should I be?" he asked, bluntly. + +She had a dozen arguments that might have won the ordinary man, but +she knew it would take more than stock phrases to convince him, so she +ignored the challenge. "You see, my husband has decided to go into +business ... and ... well, I thought perhaps if you had any insurance +... a stray bit, don't you know, that isn't pledged or spoken for ... +it would all be _so_ encouraging!" + +He smoothed his cheek with an appraising gesture. Against the blond +freshness of his skin his mangled thumb stood out vividly. + +"Why doesn't your husband come to see me himself?" + +She drew back a trifle, but her recovery was swift. "Oh, he intends +to, naturally. I'm just preparing the way... Fred's a perfect dear and +all that, but he is a little bit reserved about some things... It +would be so much easier for him to ask a favor for some one else... Of +course, he'd be perfectly furious if he knew that I had come here. But +you understand, Mr. Hilmer, I want to do all I can... I'd make _any_ +sacrifice for Fred." + +She paused to give him a chance to put in a word, but he sat silent. +It was plain that he didn't intend to help out her growing +embarrassment. + +"It's all come out of a clear sky," she went on, trailing the fringe +of her beaded hand bag across her shoe tops. "He only told me last +night... There isn't any use pretending ... he hasn't any capital to +work on. And until the premiums begin to come in there'll be office +rent and a stenographer's salary piling up ... and our living expenses +in the bargain... A friend of his is putting up some money, but I +can't imagine it's a whole lot... I'm a little bit upset about it, of +course. I wish I could really do something to help him." + +She knew from his look that he intended to hurl another disconcerting +question at her. + +"Well, if you want to help him, why don't you?" he quizzed. + +"Why, I ... why, I'm not fit for anything, really," she tried to throw +back. + +"My wife said you were pretty efficient at the Red Cross." + +"Oh, but that was different!" + +"Why?" + +"Well, I can't just explain, but it's easy to do something you ... +you..." + +"Feel you don't have to," he finished for her, ironically. + +She shrugged petulantly. "What do you want me to do? Solicit +insurance?" + +He smiled. "That's what you're doing now, isn't it?" + +"Mr. _Hilmer_!" She rose majestically in her seat. + +He continued to sit, but she was conscious that his eyes were sweeping +her from head to foot with frank appraisal. + +"A pretty woman has a good chance to get by with almost anything she +sets her mind on," he said, finally. + +She drew in a barely perceptible breath. The blunt tip of his shoe was +jammed squarely against her toe. She withdrew her foot, but she sat +down again. + +"I really ought to be angry with you, Mr. Hilmer," she purred at him, +archly. "It's very nice of you to attempt to be so gallant, but, after +all, talk _is_ pretty cheap, isn't it?... So far I don't seem to be +making good as a solicitor. So what else is there left?" + +"How about being your husband's stenographer?" he asked, without a +trace of banter. + +She forgot to be amazed. "I don't know anything about shorthand," she +replied, simply. + +"Well, you could soon learn to run a typewriter," he insisted. "I have +a young woman in my office who takes my letters direct on the machine +as I dictate them. She's as good as, if not better than, my chief +stenographer. That would save your husband at least seventy-five +dollars a month." + +She had an impulse to rise and sweep haughtily out of the room. What +right had this man to tell her what she could or could not do? The +impudence of him! But she didn't want to appear absurd. She leaned +back and looked at him through her half-closed eyelids as she said, +with a slight drawl: + +"Would my presence in the office be a bid for your support, Mr. +Hilmer?" + +"It might," he said, looking at her keenly. + +She did not flinch, but his steady gaze cut her composure like a +knife. She got to her feet again. + +"What silly little flowers!" escaped her, as she took a step near his +desk and pulled a faded blossom from the blue vase. + +He left his seat and stood beside her. "I got them down by St. Francis +Wood last Sunday," he admitted. "They reminded me of the early spring +blossoms in the old country ... the sort that shoot up almost at the +melting snow bank's edge... The flowers here are very gorgeous, but +somehow they never seem as sweet." + +She looked at him curiously, almost with the expectation of finding +that he was jesting. This flowering of sentiment was unexpected. It +had come, as he had described his native spring blooms, almost at the +snow bank's edge. She reached out, gathered up the faded blossoms +ruthlessly, and dropped them into a convenient waste basket. + +"Do you mind?" she asked, lifting her eyes heavily. + +He did not answer. + +Slowly she unpinned the flaming daffodils from her side and slipped +them into the empty vase. She stepped back to survey their sunlit +brilliance, resting a gloved hand upon the chair she had deserted. She +was conscious that another hand was bearing down heavily upon her +slender ringers. The weight crushed and pained her, yet she felt no +desire to withdraw... + +The office boy came in. She moved forward quickly. + +"There's a gentleman named Starratt waiting to see you," he announced. + +She threw back her head defensively. + +"This way!" Hilmer said, as he opened a private exit for her. + +She found herself in the marble-flanked hallway and presently she +gained the sun-flooded street. The blood was pounding at her temples +and its throb hurt. + +She walked home rapidly, swept by half-formulated impulses that +stirred her to almost adolescent self-revelations, yet when she +reached her apartment she was quite calm, almost too calm, and +outwardly cold. + +That night over the black coffee Fred Starratt said to his wife, with +an air of restrained triumph: + +"Well, I landed the insurance on Hilmer's car to-day." + +She flashed him, an enigmatical smile. "Oh, lovely!"... + +He sipped his coffee with preening satisfaction. + +"Everything is going beautifully," he continued. "I hired an office +and began to connect up with two or three firms. That preliminary from +Hilmer was a great boost... A man named Kendrick handles all his +business, so I've sort of got the street guessing. They can't figure +how I could even get a look in... Of course I'm convinced that +Kendrick shares his commissions with Hilmer, which is against the +rules of the Broker's Exchange. But he didn't ask for any shakedown... +Brauer and I ordered some office furniture, and to-morrow I'll +advertise for a girl." + +"I've got one for you already," she said, deliberately. + +"Who?" + +She reached across the shallow length of the table and touched his arm +significantly. + +"I've decided to do it myself," she purred. + +He patted her hand as an incredulous stare escaped him. "You!" he +laughed. + +She suffered his indulgent and mildly contemptuous caress. "Don't +laugh, sonny," she drawled, almost disagreeably. "Your wife may prove +a lot more clever than she seems." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After the first two weeks Fred Starratt's business venture went +forward amazingly. His application for membership in the Insurance +Broker's Exchange was rushed through by influential friends and he +became, through this action, a full-fledged fire insurance broker. He +did not need this formality, however, to qualify him as a solicitor in +other insurance lines. There was a long list of free lances, where the +only seal of approval was an ability to get the business. Automobile +liability, personal accident, marine, life--underwriters representing +such insurances shared commissions with any and all who had a +reasonable claim to prospective success. Therefore, while he was +waiting for his final confirmation from fire-insurance circles he took +a flyer at these more liberal forms. There seemed no end to this +miscellaneous business which, he came to the conclusion, could be had +almost for the asking. And all the time he had fancied that the field +was overworked! He mentioned this one day to a seasoned veteran in the +brokerage world. + +"Writing up policies is one thing," this friend had assured him, +emphatically; "collecting the premiums is another matter... If your +fire-insurance premiums aren't paid up inside of two months, the +policies are canceled. But they let the others drag on until the cows +come home. There's nothing so intangible in this world as insurance. +And people hate to pay for intangibilities." + +Starratt refused to be forewarned. The people he went after were +personal friends or gilt-edged business men. _They_ wouldn't deny +their obligations when the premiums fell due. + +But the greatest rallying point for his business enthusiasm proved to +be Hilmer. It seemed that scarcely a day went by that Hilmer did not +drop a new piece of business Fred's way. Returning to the office at +four o'clock on almost any afternoon, he grew to feel almost sure that +he would find Hilmer there, bending over Helen's shoulder as he +pointed out some vital point in the contract they were both examining. +He was a trifle uneasy at first--dreading the day when Hilmer would +approach him on the matter of sharing commissions. It was a generally +assumed fact that Kendrick, the man who handled practically all of +Hilmer's business, was a notorious rebater--that he divided +commissions with his clients in the face of his sworn agreement with +the Broker's Exchange not to indulge in such a practice. Obviously, +then, Hilmer would not be a man to throw away chances to turn such an +easy trick. + +Starratt voiced these fears to Brauer. + +"Sure he expects a rake-off," Starratt's silent partner had said. +"Everybody gets it ... if they've got business enough to make it worth +while." + +"Well, he won't get it from me," Fred returned, decisively. "I've +signed my name to an agreement and that agreement will stick if I +starve doing it!" + +Brauer, disconcerted by his friend's vehemence, merely had shrugged, +but at another time he said, craftily: + +"If Hilmer wants to break even on the fire business he gives us, why +can't we make it up some other way?... There's nothing against giving +him _all_ the commissions on that automobile liability policy we +placed the other day. We can do what we please with _that_ profit." + +Starratt flushed. "Can't you see, Brauer, that the principle is the +same?" + +"Principle! Oh, shoot!... We're out to make money, not to reform +business methods." + +Starratt made no further reply, but Brauer's attitude rankled. He +began to wish that he hadn't allowed Brauer to go in on his venture. +'But it had taken money ... more than he had imagined. They had to put +a good deposit down on the office furniture, and the rent was, of +course, payable in advance. Then came the fee for joining the Broker's +Exchange, and he had to borrow money for his personal expenses in the +face of his diminished salary check from Ford, Wetherbee & Co. He +realized, too, that the difficulties would scarcely decrease, even in +the face of brisk business. The office furnishings would one day have +to be met in full, the typewriting machine paid for, the stationery +and printing bills settled. During all this time he and Helen would +have to live and keep up a decent, not to say prosperous, appearance. +Yes, even with Helen saving the price of a stenographer, the problem +would not be easy. A day would come finally when he would feel +compelled to provide Helen with a fair salary. A man couldn't expect +even his own wife to go on pounding a typewriting machine for nothing. +What he really hoped was that when things began to run smoothly Helen +would retire... He had heard her in the old days voice her scorn of +the married woman who went out to earn a salary. + +"I wouldn't marry a man who couldn't support me!" she used to blaze. + +As a matter of fact, he had felt the same way about it--he felt that +way still. It hurt him to think that Helen should be wearing the badge +of his inefficiency. And then, deep down, he had a masculine distaste +for sharing his workday world with a woman. He liked to preserve the +mystery of those hours spent in the fight for existence, because he +knew instinctively that battle grounds lost their glamour at close +range. His Californian inheritance had fostered the mining-camp +attitude toward females--they were one of two things: men's moral +equals or men's moral superiors. It was well enough to meet an equal +on common ground, but one felt in duty bound to enshrine a superior +being in reasonable seclusion. + +At first he had been doubtful of Helen's ability to adapt herself to +such a radical change. Her performance soon set his mind at rest on +that score, but he still could not recover quite from the surprise of +her unexpected decision. Indifference, amazement, opposition--nothing +seemed able to sway her from her purpose. In the end he had been too +touched by her attitude to put his foot down firmly against the +move... She got on well with Hilmer, too, he noticed. Usually at the +end of one of these late afternoon conferences with their chief patron +Fred and Hilmer ended up by shaking for an early evening cocktail at +Collins & Wheeland's, just around the corner. Hilmer always saw to it +that Fred returned to the office with something for Helen--a handful +of ginger-snaps from the free-lunch counter, a ham sandwich, or a +paper of ripe olives. Once he stopped in a candy shop on Leidesdorff +Street and bought two ice-cream cornucopias. Fred used to shake a +puzzled head as he deposited these gastronomic trifles upon Helen's +desk as he said: + +"I don't get this man Hilmer... One minute he insults you and the next +minute he's as considerate as a canteen worker... What's he throwing +business my way for?" + +Helen, munching a gingersnap, would go on with her laborious +typewriting, and return: + +"Why look a gift horse in the mouth, Freddie?... Women aren't the only +riddles in the world." + +"I think he comes to see you," he used to throw out in obvious jest. +"That's the only way I can figure it." + +"He's like every man ... he wants an audience... I guess Mother Hilmer +is tired of hearing him rave." + +And so the banter would go on until Fred would pull up with a round +turn, realizing quite suddenly that he was talking to his wife and not +just to his stenographer. + +"He'll be at me one of these days on that commission question, you +mark my words," he would venture. + +"And what are you going to do?" + +"Why, refuse, of course, and lose the business." + +"Well, don't cross the bridge till you come to it." + +She puzzled him more and more. She seemed disturbed at nothing, and +yet she glowed with a leashed restlessness that he could not define. + +"It's the strain," he would conclude. "She's putting more into this +venture of mine than she's willing to admit... After all, women are +amazing... They pull and cling at you and drag you back ... and then, +all of a sudden, they take the bit in their teeth and you can't hold +them in... Who would have thought that Helen..." + +And here he would halt, overcome with the soft wonder of it. + +Business began to pour in from Brauer and, frankly, Fred was +disturbed. He wasn't sure of Brauer's business scruples. + +"I wonder if he's promising these people rebates," he said to Helen +one day, following an avalanche of new risks. + +"Well, you'll know soon enough when he begins to collect the +premiums," she replied, indifferently. + +"But I don't want to wait until then... They tell me this man Kendrick +is getting awfully sore at losing so much of Hilmer's business. He'd +like nothing better than to hop on to some irregularity in my methods +and get me fired from the Exchange... It takes a thief to catch one, +you know." + +"Oh, why worry?" Helen almost snapped at him. "If Brauer gets us into +a mess we can always throw him out." + +Starratt's eyes widened. Where did Helen get this ruthless philosophy? +Had it always lain dormant in her, or was this business life already +putting a ragged edge upon her finer perceptions? But he made no +answer. He had never admitted to Helen that Brauer had insisted upon +drawing up a hard-and-fast partnership agreement, and taking his note +for half of the money advanced in the bargain. It was one of the +business secrets which he decided he would not share with anybody--he +had a childish wish to preserve some mystery in connection with his +venture against the soft and dubious encroachments of his wife. + +"Anyway," Helen went on, "as soon as we get running smoothly we can +split. No doubt _he'll_ want to pull out when he sees that he can get +along without us... Just now he isn't taking any chances. He's holding +down his own job and letting us do all the work and the worrying... +Oh, he's German, all right, from the ground up." + +Fred had often shared this same hope, although he had never voiced it. +When the time came, no doubt Brauer would eliminate himself--for a +consideration--and set up his own office. But it amazed him to find +how swiftly and completely Helen had figured all these things out. Had +her mind always worked so coldly and logically under her rather +indifferent surface? He still wondered, too, at her efficiency. Was +this a product of her social service with the Red Cross during war +times?... Being a man, he couldn't concede that a proper domestic +training was a pretty good schooling in any direction. He didn't see +any relationship between a perfectly baked apple pie and a neatly kept +cash book. He had expected his wife to fall down on the mechanical +aspects of typewriting, but he forgot that she had been running a +sewing machine since she was fifteen years old. And even in his wife's +early childhood people were still using lamps for soft effects and +intensive reading. Any woman who knew the art of keeping a kerosene +lamp in shape must of necessity find the oiling and cleaning of a +typewriting machine mere child's play. He didn't realize the +affinities of training. It would never have occurred to him to fancy +that because he kept his office desk in perfect order he was qualified +to do the same thing with a kitchen stove, or that the method he had +acquired as office boy, copying letters in the letterpress, would have +stood him in good stead if he suddenly had been called upon to make up +his own bed. What he did realize was that the leveling process which +goes hand in hand with the mingling of sexes in a workday world was +setting in. And he resented it. He wanted to coddle illusion ... he +had no wish for a world practical to the point of bleakness. + +One afternoon Hilmer came in at the usual time with a handful of +memoranda. It was a violently rainy day--an early March day, to be +exact--the sort that refused to be softened even by the beguilements +of California. The rain wind, generally warm and humid, had been +chilled in its flight over the snow-piled Sierras, and it had pelted +down in a wintry flood, banking up piles of stinging hail between +warmer showerings. Fred had decided to forgo his soliciting and stay +indoors instead. Hilmer greeted him with biting raillery. + +"Well, I should think this was a good day to bag a prospective +customer," he flung out as he laid his umbrella aside. "Or is business +swamping you?" + +Fred tossed back a trite rejoinder. Helen went on pounding her machine +... she did not even lift her eyes. + +"I've got something for you to-day," Hilmer went on, as he unbound the +bundle of papers and sat down beside Fred. + +Starratt saw the edge of a blue print in Hilmer's hand. This spelled +all manner of possibilities, but he checked a surge of illogical hope. +"That's fine," he answered, heartily. "But why didn't you send for me? +I could have come over. It's bad enough to take your business without +letting you bring it in on a day like this..." + +Hilmer made a contemptuous gesture. "Wind and weather never made any +difference to me... I've traveled twenty miles in a blizzard to court +a girl." + +"Oh, when a woman's involved, that's different," Fred laughed back. +"There's nothing as alluring here." + +"Well, Mrs. Starratt, what do you say?" Hilmer called out to her. +"Your husband doesn't seem to count you in at all." + +Helen was erasing a misspelled word. "Married women are used to that," +she retorted, flippantly. "Sometimes it's just as well that they +overlook us. We get a chance to play our own hand once in a while." + +Everybody laughed, including Fred, but the effort hurt him. There was +a suggestion of unpleasant mockery in Helen's tone. She seemed to be +hiding her contempt behind a thin veil of acrid humor. And somehow +this revelation in the presence of Hilmer stung him. + +"I'll bet you can't guess what I've got here," Hilmer began again, +tapping the bundle of papers with his ringer. + +Starratt shook his head and Hilmer tossed him the blue print. + +"Not the insurance on your shipbuilding plant?" escaped Fred, +incredulously. + +Hilmer crossed his legs and settled back in his chair. + +"You said it!" he announced. "And it's all going to you after we've +settled one question... I've been bringing you in little odds and ends +as I've had them ... not enough to matter much one way or another ... +so I haven't bothered to really get down and talk business. This is a +half-million-dollar line and a little bit different. It means about +fifteen thousand dollars in premiums, to be exact. You can figure what +your commission will be at fifteen per cent, to say nothing of how +solid this will make you with the street... Later on there 'll be +workmen's compensation, boiler insurance, public liability. It's a +pretty nice little plum, if I do say so." + +Helen stopped her typing. Fred could feel his lips drying with mingled +anticipation and apprehension. He knew just what demand Hilmer +intended making. + +"The question is," Hilmer continued, "how much of the commission are +you going to split up with me?" + +Fred shrugged. "You know the rules of the Broker's Exchange as well as +I do, Hilmer. I've pledged myself not to do any rebating." + +Hilmer did not betray the slightest surprise at Starratt's reply. +Evidently he had heard something of the same argument before. + +"Everybody does it," was his calmly brief rejoinder. + +"You mean Kendrick, to be exact... I'm sorry, but I don't see it that +way." + +"Do you mean that you would rather pass up a half-million-dollar line +than share the spoils?" + +"It isn't a question of choice, Hilmer. You must know I don't want to +lose five cents' worth of business. But there are some things a +gentleman doesn't do." + +He was sorry once the last remark had escaped him, but Hilmer didn't +seem disconcerted by the covert inference. + +"Scruples are like laws," Hilmer returned, affably. "I never saw one +yet that couldn't be gotten round legitimately." + +"Oh yes, you can subscribe to any one of the Ten Commandments with +your fingers crossed, if you like that kind of a game. But I don't." + +Hilmer moved in his seat with an implication of leave-taking. "Well, +every man to his own taste," he said, as he reached for the blue print +and proceeded to fold it up. + +Starratt leaned toward him. His attitude was strangely earnest. + +"Do you really like to participate in a game you know to be unfair, +Hilmer?--dishonest, in fact?" + +"Participating? I haven't signed any Broker's Exchange agreement. I'm +not breaking any pledge when I accept a share of insurance commission. +That's up to the other fellow." + +"Ah, but you know that he is breaking faith... And a man that will +double cross his associates will double cross you if the opportunity +presents itself... Would you put a man in charge of your cash drawer +when you knew that he had looted some one else's safe?" + +"That's not the same thing," Hilmer sneered. "That is, it's only the +same in theory. Practically, an insurance broker couldn't double cross +me if he wanted to... I wouldn't put a thief in charge of my cash +drawer, but I might make him a night watchman. He'd know all the +tricks of the trade." + +"Including the secret entrances that those on the outside wouldn't +know... A crook wouldn't stay all his life on the night-watchman's +job, believe me." + +He noticed that Helen was regarding him keenly and her glance +registered indulgent surprise rather than disapproval. Hilmer, too, +had grown a bit more tolerant. He felt a measure of pride in the +realization that he could make his points so calmly and +dispassionately, putting this rough-hewn man before him on the +defensive. But Hilmer's wavering was only momentary; he was not a man +to waste time in argument when he discovered that such a weapon was +futile. + +"Then I understand you don't want the business?" + +"Not on those terms." + +Hilmer shrugged. + +Helen leaned forward and put out a hand. "Let's see!" she half +commanded. + +Hilmer gave her the blue print and the package of memoranda. She began +to unfold one of the insurance forms, bending over it curiously. Fred +was puzzled. He knew that Helen was too unacquainted with insurance +matters to have any knowledge of the printed schedule she was +studying, yet he had to concede that she was giving a splendid +imitation of an experienced hand. Her acting annoyed him. He turned +toward Hilmer with an indifferent comment on the weather and the talk +veered to inconsequential subjects. Helen continued her scrutiny of +the forms. + +Finally Hilmer rose to go. Helen made no move to return the memoranda. +Fred cleared his throat and even coughed significantly, but Helen was +oblivious. Presently Starratt went up to his wife and said, +deliberately: + +"Hilmer is going ... you better give him back his papers." + +She turned a glance of startled innocence upon them both. "Oh!" she +exclaimed, petulantly. "How disappointing...and just as I was becoming +interested... Why don't you men go have your usual drink? I'll be +through with them then." + +Hilmer gave a silent assent and Fred followed him. There didn't seem +to be anything else to do. On the way out they met Hilmer's office boy +in the corridor. Hilmer was wanted on a matter of importance at the +office. He waved a brief farewell to Fred and left. + +Fred went back to his wife. She had abandoned the forms and was +lolling in her chair, sucking at an orange. + +"Hilmer's been called suddenly to his office on business," he said, +brusquely. She turned and faced him. "You'd better put those papers in +the safe. I'll take them back myself to-morrow. I can't see what +possessed you to insist on looking them over, anyway." + +She squeezed the orange in her hand. "Well, when we get ready to +handle the business I want to know something about it." + +He stared. "Handle the business? You heard what I said, didn't you?" + +"Yes, I heard," she said, wearily, and she went on with her orange. + +He did not say anything further, but the next morning a telephone +message put to rout his resolve to return Hilmer's insurance forms in +person. + +"I've got to go up Market Street to see a man about some workmen's +compensation," he explained to Helen. "You'd better put on your hat +and take those things to Hilmer yourself." + +She did not answer... + +He returned at three o'clock. Helen was very busy pounding away at the +typewriter. + +"Well, what's all the rush?" he asked. + +"I'm getting out the forms on Hilmer's shipping plant," she returned, +nonchalantly. + +"What do you mean?... Didn't you..." + +"No ... he's decided to let us handle the business." + +"Why ... on what grounds?" + +She waved a bit of carbon paper in the air. "How should I know? I +didn't ask him!" + +Her contemptuous indifference irritated him. "You ought to have waited +until I got back... You've probably got everything mixed up... It +takes experience to map out a big schedule like that." + +"Hilmer showed me what to do," she retorted, calmly. + +"Then he's been over here?" + +"Yes ... all morning." + +He narrowed his eyes. She went on with her typewriting. + +"Well, I'll be damned!" escaped him. + +His wife replied with a tripping laugh. + +At that moment Brauer came in. "I hear you've got the Hilmer line," he +broke out, excitedly. "They say Kendrick is wild... How much did you +have to split?" + +"Nothing," Starratt said, coldly. + +"Nothing?" Brauer's gaze swept from Starratt to Helen and back again. +"How did you land it, then?" + +Helen stood up, thrusting a pencil into her hair. + +"I landed it, Mr. Brauer," she said, sweetly, tossing her husband a +commiserating smile. + +Brauer's thin lips parted unpleasantly. "I told you at the start, +Starratt, that a good stenographer would work wonders." + +Fred forced a sickly laugh. He wished that Helen Starratt had stayed +at home where she belonged. + +It had been a long time since the insurance world on California Street +had been given such a chance for gossip as the shifting of the Hilmer +insurance provided. Naturally, business changes took place every day, +but it was unusual to have such a rank beginner at the brokerage game +put over so neat a trick. Speculation was rife. Some said that Hilmer +was backing the entire Starratt venture, that he, in fact, was +Starratt & Co., with Fred merely a salaried man, allowing his name to +be used. Others conceded a partnership arrangement. But Kendrick +announced in a loud tone up and down the street: + +"Partnership nothing! I know Hilmer. He's got too many irons in the +fire now. He wouldn't be annoyed with the insurance game. This fellow +Starratt is rebating--that's what he is!" + +Of course the street laughed. Kendrick's indignation was quite too +comic, considering his own reputation. To this argument, those who +held to the proprietor and partnership theories replied: + +"That may all be, but he wastes an awful lot of time in Starratt's +office for a fellow who's so rushed with his other ventures." + +It was at this point that a few people raised their eyebrows +significantly as they said: + +"Well, the old boy always did have a pretty keen eye for a skirt." + +It was impossible for Fred Starratt to move anywhere without hearing +fragments of all this gossip. During the noon hour particularly it +filtered through the midday tattle of business, pleasure, and +obscenity--at the Market, at Collins & Wheeland's, at Hjul's coffee +house, at Grover's Lunchroom--everywhere that clerks forgathered to +appease their hunger and indulge in idle speculations. Sometimes he +got these things indirectly through chance slips in talks with his +friends, again scraps of overheard conversation reached his ears. +Quite frequently a frank or a coarse acquaintance, without +embarrassment or reserve, would tell him what had been said. He soon +got over protesting. If he convinced anybody that he was getting +Hilmer's business without financial concessions, he had to take the +nasty alternative which the smirks of his audience betrayed... It +would not have been so bad if he could have explained the situation to +himself, but any attempt to solve the riddle moved in a vicious +circle. He used to long for a simplicity that would make him accept +Hilmer's favors on their face value. Why couldn't one believe in +friendship and disinterestedness? Perhaps it would have been easier if +he had lacked any knowledge of Hilmer's philosophy of life. Starratt +couldn't remember anything in the recital of Hilmer's past performance +or his present attitude that dovetailed with benevolence... He +retreated, baffled from these speculative tilts, to the refuge of a +comforting conviction that fortunately no man was thoroughly +consistent. Perhaps therein lay the secret of Hilmer's puzzling +prodigality--because, boiled down to hard facts, it was apparent that +Hilmer was making Starratt & Co. a present of several hundred dollars +a year. Sometimes, in a wild flight of conjecture, he used to wonder +how far his argument with Hilmer regarding the ethics of being a +negative party to another man's dishonesty had been borne home? It +seemed almost too fantastic to fancy that he could have put over his +rather finely spun business morality in such a brief flash, if at all. + +At first he had plunged in too speedily to his venture to formulate +many ideals of business conduct, but as he had progressed he found his +standards springing to life full grown. + +He had been long enough in the insurance business to realize the +estimate that average clients had of an insurance broker--they looked +upon him as a struggling friend or a poor relation or an agreeable, +persuasive grafter, whose only work consisted in talking them into +indifferent acceptance of an insurance policy and then pestering them +into a reluctant payment of the premium. Of course big business firms +recognized a broker's expertness or lack of it, though, quite +frequently, as in Hilmer's case, they were more snared by a share in +the profits than by the claims of efficiency. But Starratt wanted to +succeed merely on his merit. He wanted to teach people to say of him: + +"I go to Fred Starratt because he's the keenest, the most reliable man +in the field. And for no other reason." + +In short, he wished to earn his commission, and not to share it. He +wanted to prove to people that an insurance broker was neither a +barbered mendicant nor a genial incompetent. Had he known that a +conviction of his ability lay at the bottom of Hilmer's sudden change +in business tactics he would have been content. As it was, in spite of +the impetus this sudden push gave his career he had moments when he +would have felt happier without such dubious patronage. As a matter of +fact, Hilmer rather ignored him. He brought in his business usually +during Fred's absence from the office, and Helen, under his guidance, +had everything ready before her husband had time to suggest any line +of action. Forms, apportionments, applications--there did not seem to +be a detail that Hilmer had overlooked or Helen had failed to execute. +Starratt tried not to appear irritated. He didn't like to admit even +to himself that he could be small enough to resent his wife's curious +efficiency. But he wished she weren't there. One day he said to her, +as inconsequentially as he could: + +"I really think, my dear, that I ought to be planning to get a woman +here in your place... Now that Hilmer's business is reasonably +assured, I can afford it... It's too much to ask of you--keeping up +your house and doing this, too." + +"Well," she shrugged, "we can board if it gets too much for me." + +"You know I detest boarding." + +"I can hire help, then. Mrs. Finn would come in by the day. But, as a +matter of fact, this isn't any more strenuous than my year of the Red +Cross work. I managed then; I guess I can manage now." + +"But I thought you didn't like business life." + +"I'm not crazy about it ... but I want to get you started right. +Suppose you got a girl in here who didn't know how to manage Hilmer?" + +He checked the retort that rose to his lips... He couldn't help +getting the nasty inferences that people on the street threw at him +unconsciously or maliciously, but he _could_ help voicing them or +admitting them even to himself. + +"Is ... is Hilmer so hard to manage?" he found himself inquiring. + +Helen looked up sharply. "No harder than most men," she answered, +slipping easily from the traces of his cross-examination. + +His rancor outran his reserve. "I guess I'm vain," he threw out +bitterly, "but I'd like to feel that I could land one piece of +business without _anybody's_ help." + +She laughed indulgently. "Why, Freddie, that isn't nice! You landed +Hilmer at the start... Don't you remember that very first line? On his +automobile?" + +There was something insincere in her tone, in the lift of her eyes, in +her cryptic smile. But he smothered such unworthy promptings. It was +fresh proof of his own unreasonable conceit. He turned away from his +wife in silence, but he was sure that his face betrayed his feelings. + +Presently he felt her standing very close to him. He turned about +sharply, almost in irritation. Her mouth was raised temptingly. He +bent over and kissed her, but he withdrew as swiftly. Her lips left a +bitter taste that he could not define. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +March passed in a blur of wind and cold, penetrating rains. Except for +the placing of the insurance on the Hilmer shipbuilding plant, +business was dull. Fred began to make moves toward getting in money. +But it was heartbreaking work. The people who had yielded up their +consent so smilingly to Fred for personal accident policies, or +automobile insurance, passed him furtively on the street or sent word +out to him when he called at their offices that they were busy or +broke or leaving town. He did not attempt to do much toward collecting +the fire-insurance premiums. Most people with fire policies knew their +rights and stood by them. The premiums on March business were not due +until the end of May and it was useless to make the rounds much before +the middle of that month. + +The whisperings on the street continued, and a few surly growls from +Kendrick reached Fred's ears. One day a close friend of Fred, who knew +something of Insurance Exchange matters, said to him: + +"There's something going on inside, but I can't quite get the dope... +I hope you're not giving Kendrick the chance to have you called for +rebating... He's an ugly customer when he gets in action." + +Fred was annoyed. "I've told you again and again," he retorted, "that +I'm not yielding a cent on the Hilmer business." + +"It isn't that," was the reply. "Kendrick knows better than to stir up +a situation he's helped to befoul himself... No, it's another matter." + +Fred shrugged and changed the subject, but his thoughts flew at once +to Brauer. He decided not to say anything to his partner until he made +a move toward investigating, himself. + +The next morning he took a half dozen names of Brauer's customers at +random from the ledger and he made out bills for their premiums. +Practically all of Brauer's business was fire insurance, so Fred had +typical cases for his test. The first man he called on produced a +receipt from Brauer for the premium paid on the very day the policy +was issued. The second man protested that he had paid Brauer only the +day before. The third man stated brusquely that he had placed his +business through Brauer and he was the man he intended to settle with. +The fourth was noncommittal, but it was the fifth client who produced +the straw that betrayed the direction of the wind. + +"I want to see Brauer," the man said. "He promised to do something for +me." + +The sixth customer was even more direct. + +"There's something to come off the premium," he said. "Brauer knows." + +Fred did not wait for Brauer to come into the office--he went and took +him to lunch instead, where he could prod him away from Helen's sight +and hearing. + +"I'm surprised at you, Brauer," Starratt broke out suddenly, once they +were seated at Grover's and had given the girl their order. + +"Over what?" Brauer's face clouded craftily. + +"Why do you go about collecting premiums and holding them back from +the office?... That isn't sound business tactics." + +Brauer's sharp teeth glistened savagely in spite of his weak and +bloodless mouth. "What have you been doing ... bothering _my_ people? +I'll trouble you to let me attend to my own clients in future. Those +premiums aren't due for a good six weeks yet. When they are I'll turn +them in." + +Fred cooled a little in the face of Brauer's vehemence. "Oh, come now, +what's the use of talking like that? I'm not intending to bother your +customers, but there are some things due me... My name is on every one +of those policies. Therefore I ought to know when they are paid and +anything else about the business that concerns me. You know as well as +I do what is reasonable and just. Suppose you were taken ill. It +doesn't look right for a firm to go about making attempts to collect +premiums that have been paid." + +"Well ... you're pretty previous, Starratt, dogging folks in March for +money that isn't due until May," Brauer grumbled back. "What's the +idea, anyway?" + +Starratt leaned forward. "Just this, Brauer. I heard some ugly gossip +yesterday, and I wanted to find out if it had any justification. It +seems Kendrick is after us. He's going to try and get us on a rebating +charge. I saw six of your people ... and I'm reasonably sure that two +out of that six have been promised a rake-off... Do you call that fair +to me?" + +"That's a lie!" Brauer broke out, too emphatically. + +"I doubt it!" Starratt replied, coldly. "But that's neither here nor +there. What's done is done. But I don't want any more of it. I'm +playing a square game. I was ready to throw Hilmer overboard rather +than compromise, and I'll--" + +"Do the same thing to me, I suppose!" Brauer challenged. + +Fred looked at him steadily. "Precisely," he answered. + +The waitress arrived with their orders and Starratt changed the +subject... Brauer recovered his civility, but hardly his good temper. +At the close of the meal they parted politely. Fred could see that +Brauer was bursting with spite. For himself, he decided then and there +to eliminate Brauer at the first opportunity. + +A few days later Brauer came into the office with an order to place a +workmen's compensation policy. It covered the entire force of a +canning concern, and the premium was based upon a large pay roll. + +"I've had to split the commission with them," Brauer announced, +defiantly. "That's legitimate enough with this sort of business, isn't +it?" + +Starratt nodded. "It's done, but I'm not keen for it. However, there +isn't any law against it." + +The policy was made out and delivered to Brauer, and almost +immediately he came back with a check for the premium. "They paid me +at once," he exulted. + +Starratt refused to express any enthusiasm. Brauer sat down at a desk +and drew out his check book. "I guess I might as well settle up for +the other premiums I've collected," he said, "while I'm about it." + +He made out a long list of fire premiums and drew his check for their +full amount, plus the workmen's compensation premium in his +possession. But he took 5 per cent off the latter item. + +Starratt made no comment. But he was willing to stake his life that +the check from the canning company to Brauer was for a full premium +without any 5-per-cent reduction, and that Brauer, himself, was +withholding this alleged rebate and applying it to making up the +deficits on the fire premiums he had discounted. + +The next day Fred's friend said again: "Kendrick's doing some gum-shoe +work, Starratt... You'd better go awful slow." + +With the coming of May other anxieties claimed Starratt's attention. +Bills that he had forgotten or neglected began to pour in. There was +his tailor bill, long overdue, and two accounts with dry-goods stores +that Helen had run up in the days when the certainty of a fixed salary +income had seemed sure. A dentist bill for work done in December made +its appearance and, of course, the usual household expenditures went +merrily on. The rent of their apartment was raised. Collections were +slow. In March the commissions on collected premiums had just about +paid the office rent and the telephone... April showed up better, but +May, of course, held great promise. At the end of May the Hilmer +premiums would be due and the firm of Starratt & Co. on its feet, with +over two thousand dollars in commissions actually in hand. On the +strength of these prospects Helen began to order a new outfit. Fred +Starratt did not have the heart to complain. Helen had earned every +stitch of clothing that she was buying--there was no doubt about that; +still, he would have liked to be less hasty in her expenditures. He +had been too long in business to count much on prospects. He disliked +borrowing more money from Brauer, but there was no alternative. Brauer +fell to grumbling quite audibly over these advances, and he saw to it +that Fred's notes for the amounts always were forthcoming. Hilmer did +not come in quite so often to the office; a rush of shipbuilding +construction took him over to his yards in Oakland nearly every day. +But Mrs. Hilmer was in evidence a good deal. Helen was constantly +calling her up and asking her to drop downtown for luncheon or for a +bit of noonday shopping uptown or just for a talk. + +"She's a dear!" Helen used to say to Fred. "And I just love her to +death..." + +Fred could not fathom Helen. A year ago he felt sure that Mrs. Hilmer +was the last woman in the world that Helen would have found bearable, +much less attractive... He concluded that Helen was enjoying the +novelty of watching Mrs. Hilmer nibble at a discreet feminine +frivolity to which she was unaccustomed. After a while he looked for +outward changes in Mrs. Hilmer's make-up. He figured that the shopping +tours with Helen might be reflected in a sprightlier bonnet or a +narrower skirt or a higher heel on her shoe. But no such +transformation took place. Indeed, her costuming seemed to grow more +and more uncompromising--more Dutch, to use the time-worn phrase, made +significant to Fred Starratt by his mother. But Helen always made a +point to compliment her on her appearance. + +"You look too sweet for anything!" Helen would exclaim, rushing upon +her new friend with an eager kiss. + +At this Mrs. Hilmer always dimpled with wholesome pleasure. Well, she +did look sweet, in a motherly, bovine way, Fred admitted, when the +note of insincerity in his wife's voice jarred him. + +One day Mrs. Hilmer brought down a hat the two had picked out and +which had been altered at Helen's suggestion. She tried it on for +Helen's approval, and Fred stood back in a corner while Helen went +into ecstasies over it. Even a man could not escape the fact that it +was unbecoming. Somehow, in a subtle way, it seemed to accent all of +Mrs. Hilmer's unprepossessing features. When she left the office Fred +said to Helen, casually: + +"I don't think much of your taste, old girl. That hat was awful!" + +Helen laughed maliciously. "Of course it was!" she flung back. + +Starratt shrugged and said no more. There was kindliness back of many +deceits, but he knew now that Helen's insincerities with Mrs. Hilmer +were not justified by even so dubious virtue. + +At the moment when the Hilmer shipyard insurance had been turned over +to Fred Starratt he had at once made a move toward a reduction in the +rate. Having gone over the schedule at the Board of Fire Underwriters, +he had discovered that they had failed to give Hilmer credit in the +rating for certain fire protection. On the strength of Starratt's +application for a change a new rate was published about the middle of +May. Starratt was jubilant. Here was proof for Hilmer that his +interests were being guarded and that it paid to employ an efficient +broker. He flew at once to Hilmer's office. + +"Let me have your policies," he burst out. +"I've secured a new rate for you and I want the reduction indorsed." + +Hilmer did not appear to be moved by the announcement. + +"Better cancel and rewrite the bunch," he replied, briefly. + +Fred gasped. This meant that only about a sixth of the premium on the +present policies would be due and payable at the end of the month and +the prospects of a big clean-up on commissions delayed until July. + +"Oh, that won't be necessary," he tried to say, calmly. "This +reduction applies from the original date of the policies. It's just as +if they had been written up at the new rate." + +Hilmer ripped open a letter that he had been toying with. "Better +cancel," he announced, dryly. "It's a good excuse, and I'm a little +pressed for money. It will delay a big expenditure." + +There was no room for further argument. Fred left, crestfallen. Was +Hilmer making sport of him, he wondered. He must wait then until July +for an easy financial road. And would July see him? out of the woods? +Suppose Hilmer were to conjure up another excuse for canceling and +reissuing just as the second batch of premiums fell due? + +He voiced his fears and anxieties to Helen. She shrugged +indifferently. + +"You told me when you went into business that you weren't counting on +Hilmer," she observed, with a suggestion of a sneer. + +So he had thought or, at least, so he had pretended. What colossal +braveries he had assumed in his attempts to play a swaggering role! He +had started in with the determination to set a new standard in the +insurance world. _He_ was going to show people that a young man could +begin with nothing but honesty and merit and walk away with the +biggest kind of business. He knew that his hands were clean, but he +realized that not one in ten believed it. He had to confess that +appearances were against him. Scarcely anyone believed the Hilmer +myth. And underneath the surface was Brauer. Fred felt sure that +Brauer's ethical lapses were still in progress. At intervals Brauer +always contrived to place an insurance line other than fire and insist +that he was compelled to grant a discount. These premiums were always +settled promptly and, in their wake, a list of fire premiums paid in +full were turned in by Brauer. It was plain that Peter was being +robbed to pay Paul. Starratt even grew to fancy that there was a +substantial balance left over from these alleged discounts to clients, +which Brauer pocketed himself. But he had to smile and pretend that he +did not suspect. Were his hands clean, after all? Well, just as soon +as it was possible he intended to rid himself of Brauer. But how soon +_would_ that be possible? And meanwhile Kendrick was sniffing out +disquieting odors. + +He rallied from his first depression with a tight-lipped +determination. He was not trying out a business venture so much as he +was trying out himself. Previously he had always figured success and +failure as his performance reacted on his audience. He was learning +that one could impress a stupendous crowd and really fail, or strut +upon the boards of an empty playhouse and still succeed. He began to +realize just what was meant by the term self-esteem--how hard and +uncompromising and exacting it was. To disappoint another was a +humiliation; to disappoint oneself was a tragedy. And the tragedy +became deep in proportion to the ability to be self-searching. There +were moments when he closed his eyes to self-analysis...when it seemed +better to press on without disturbing glimpses either backward or +forward. He was eager to gain an economic foothold first--there would +be time later for recapitulations and readjustments to his widening +vision. + +The two months following were rough and uneven. He had to borrow +continually from Brauer, meet Hilmer with a bland smile, suffer the +covert sarcasms of his wife. Some money came in, but it barely kept +things moving. His broker friend had been right--the payment of any +premiums but fire premiums dragged on "till the cows came home." Many +of the policies that had seemed so easy to write up came back for +total cancellation. This man had buried a father, another had married +a wife, a third had bought a piece of ground--the excuses were all +valid, and they came from friends, so there was nothing to do but +smile and assure them that it didn't matter. + +But somehow Starratt weathered the storm and the day came when the +Hilmer insurance fell due. Fred found Hilmer absent from his desk, but +the cashier received him blandly. Yes, they were ready to pay, in fact +the check was drawn and only awaited Hilmer's signature. To-morrow, at +the latest, it would be forthcoming. Fred drew a long sigh of relief. +He went back to his office whistling. + +In the hallway he met Brauer. + +"I want to have a talk with you," Brauer began, almost apologetically. + +Fred waved him in and Brauer came direct to the point. He was +dissatisfied with the present arrangement and he was ready to pull out +if Fred were in a position to square things. His demands were +extraordinarily fair--he asked to have the notes for any advances met, +plus 50 per cent of the profit on any business he had turned in. He +claimed no share of the profits on Fred's business. + +"I suppose you've collected the Hilmer premiums," he threw out, +significantly. + +Fred nodded and began a rapid calculation. It turned out that he had +borrowed about $500 from his partner and that 50 per cent of the +commissions on the Brauer business came to a scant $125. Well, his +profits on the Hilmer insurance would be in the neighborhood of $1,900 +under the new rate. To-morrow he would be in possession of this sum. +It was too easy! He drew out his check book, deciding to close the +deal before Brauer had a chance to change his mind. Brauer received +the check with a bland smile and surrendered the notes and the +partnership agreement. + +At the door they shook hands heartily. Brauer said at parting: + +"Well, good luck, old man... I hope you aren't sore." + +Fred tried to suppress his delight. "Oh no, nothing like that! If it +_had_ to come I'm glad to see everything end pleasantly." + +And as Brauer drifted down the hall Starratt called out, suddenly: + +"I say, Brauer, don't put that check through the bank until day after +to-morrow, will you?" + +Brauer nodded a swift acquiescence and disappeared into a waiting +elevator. + +Fred retreated to his desk. "Well," he said to Helen, as he let out a +deep sigh, "that's what I call easy!" + +She looked up from her work. "Almost too easy," she answered. He made +no reply and presently she said: "You didn't tell me how tightly you +let him sew us up. With signed notes and that agreement he could have +been nasty... It's strange he didn't wait a day or two and then claim +half of the Hilmer commissions... I wonder why he was in such a rush?" + +Fred shrugged. Helen's shrewdness annoyed him. + +That evening just as Helen and he were getting ready to leave, a +messenger from the Broker's Exchange handed him a note. He broke the +seal and read a summons to appear before the executive committee on +the following morning. His face must have betrayed him, for Helen +halted the adjustment of her veil as she inquired: + +"What's wrong? Any trouble?" + +He recovered himself swiftly. "Oh no ... just a meeting at the +Exchange to-morrow." + +But as he folded up the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket he +began to have a suspicion as to the reason for Brauer's haste. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next morning Fred Starratt went down to the office alone. Mrs. +Hilmer had telephoned the night before an invitation for Helen to join +them in a motor trip down the Ocean Shore Boulevard to Half moon Bay +and home by way of San Mateo. Hilmer was entertaining a party of Norse +visitors. Helen demurred at first, but Fred interrupted the +conversation to insist: + +"Go on ... by all means! The change will be good for you. I can run +the office for a day." + +Secretly he was glad to be rid of his wife's presence. He didn't know +what trouble might be impending and he wanted to face the music +without the irritation of a prying audience. + +His fears were confirmed. He had been brought before the executive +committee on a charge of rebating preferred by Kendrick. The evidence +was complete in at least three cases and they all involved Brauer's +clients. In short, Kendrick had sworn affidavits from three people to +the effect that a representative of Starratt & Co. had granted a +discount on fire-insurance business. Obviously all three cases had +been planted by Kendrick, and Brauer had walked into the trap with +both feet. There was nothing for Fred to do but to explain the whole +situation--who Brauer was and why he had an interest in the firm. He +found the committee reasonably sympathetic, but they still had their +suspicions. Fred could see that even the sudden withdrawal of Brauer +from partnership with him had its questionable side. It looked a bit +like clever connivance. However, his inquisitors promised to look +fairly into the question before presenting an ultimatum. + +Fred went back to his office reassured. He had a feeling that in the +end the committee would purge him or at least give him another chance. +It was inconceivable that they would pronounce the penalty of +expulsion, although they might impose a fine. He was so glad to be rid +of Brauer, though, that he counted the whole circumstance as little +short of providential. + +He found a large mail at the office and quite a few remittances, but +the Hilmer check was not in evidence. He remembered now, with chagrin, +that Hilmer was away for the day. Still, there was a possibility that +he had signed the check late last night. He called up Hilmer's office. +No, the check had not been signed. Fred reminded the cashier that this +was the last day to get the money into the companies. But the watchdog +of the Hilmer treasury had been through too many financial pressures +to be disturbed. + +"They'll have to give us the usual five-day cancellation notice," he +returned, blandly. "And payment will be made before the five days +lapse." + +Fred hung up the phone and cursed audibly. Of course a day or two or +three wouldn't have made any difference ordinarily. But there was that +damn check out to Brauer. Well, he had told Brauer to hold it until +Friday. There was still another day. He hated to go around and ask any +further favors of his contemptible ex-partner, and he hoped he +wouldn't have to request another postponement to the formality of +putting the Brauer check through. Of course he had had no business +making out a check for funds not in hand. But under the +circumstances... What in hell was he worrying for? Everything would +come out all right. What could Brauer do about it, anyway? As a matter +of fact, he figured that under the circumstances he had a perfect +right to stop payment on that Brauer check if he had been so disposed. +For a moment the thought allured him. But his surrender to such a +petty retaliation, passed swiftly. No, he wouldn't tar himself with +any such defiling brush. He'd simply wipe Brauer from the slate and +begin fresh. + +He kept to his office all day. He didn't want to run afoul of either +Kendrick or Brauer on the street, and, besides, with Helen away, it +was a good day to clean up a lot of odds and ends that had been +neglected during the pressure of soliciting business. It was six +o'clock when he slammed down his roll-top desk and prepared to leave. +He had planned to meet Helen for dinner at Felix's. He found himself a +bit fagged and he grew irritated at the thought that prohibition had +robbed him of his right of easy access to a reviving cocktail. He knew +many places where he could buy bad drinks furtively, but he resented +both the method and the vileness of the mixtures. He was putting on +his coat when he heard a rap at the door. He crossed over and turned +the knob, admitting a man standing upon the threshold. + +"Is this Mr. Starratt?" the stranger began. + +Fred nodded. + +"Well, I'm sorry to bring bad news, but there's been a nasty accident. +Mr. Hilmer's car went over a bank near Montara this afternoon... Mrs. +Hilmer was hurt pretty badly, but everybody else is fairly well off... +Your wife asked me to drop in and see you. I drove the car that helped +rescue them... Don't be alarmed; Mrs. Starratt isn't hurt beyond a +tough shaking up. But she feels she ought to stay with Mrs. +Hilmer--under the circumstances." + +Fred tried to appear calm. "Oh yes, of course ... naturally... And how +about Hilmer himself?" + +The man shrugged. "He's pretty fair. So far a broken arm is all +they've found wrong with him." + +"His right arm, I suppose?" Fred suggested, with an air of +resignation. He was wondering whether anybody at Hilmer's office had +authority to sign checks. + +"Yes," the visitor assented, briefly. + +Fred Starratt had a hasty meal and then he took a direct car line for +the Hilmers'. He had never been to their house, but he found just +about what he had expected--a two-story hand-me-down dwelling in the +Richmond district, a bit more pretentious and boasting greater garden +space than most of the homes in the block. Helen answered his ring. +She had her wrist in a tight bandage. + +"Just a sprain," she explained, rather loftily. "The doctor says it +will be all right in a day or two." + +Fred sat down in an easy-chair and glanced up and down the living +room. It was scrupulously neat, reflecting a neutral taste. The +furniture was a mixture of golden and fumed oak done in heavy mission +style and the pictures on the wall consisted of dubious oil paintings +and enlarged photographs. A victrola stood in a corner, and the +upright piano near the center of the room formed a background for a +precisely draped, imitation mandarin skirt and a convenient shelf for +family photographs and hand-painted vases. On the mantel an elaborate +onyx-and-bronze clock ticked inaudibly. + +Helen sat apart, almost with the detachment of a hostess receiving a +casual acquaintance, as she recounted the incidents of the disastrous +ride. Hilmer had been driving fairly carefully, but in swerving to +avoid running down a cow that suddenly had made its appearance in the +road the machine had skidded and gone over a steep bank. Mrs. Hilmer's +condition was really quite serious. The doctor had intimated that even +if she pulled through she might never walk again. They had a nurse, of +course--two, in fact--but some one had to be there to look after +things. The servant girl was just a raw Swede who did the heavy +work--Mrs. Hilmer always had done most of the cooking herself. + +Fred inquired for Hilmer. He had a broken wrist and several bad +sprains and bruises, but he was resting easily. + +"I didn't get that check for the premiums to-day," Fred said. + +Helen rose from her seat. "I'll speak to him about it to-morrow," she +returned, lightly. + +Her movement implied dismissal. Fred left his seat and stood for a +moment, awkwardly fingering his hat. + +"I suppose," he faltered, "you don't know just how long you'll be +needed here." + +"That depends," she answered, shrugging. + +"Then I'd better get some one in temporarily at the office." + +She nodded. + +"Well, good night," he said. + +She kissed him perfunctorily and presently he found himself in the +street again, bound for home. + +A low fog was whitening the air and the breeze blowing in fresh from +the ocean was sharp of tooth. Fred shivered slightly and buttoned his +overcoat. + +"I guess she's still kind of dazed," he muttered to himself. But above +his perplexity soared a fresh determination. He would get a woman in +his wife's place in the office and he would keep her there. It was +time Helen stayed home where she belonged. + +The next morning he went early to Hilmer's office. The cashier took +him aside. + +"Hilmer has authorized me to sign checks," he explained. "But I +understand you're in wrong with the Exchange... I think I'll make out +checks direct to the different companies. That's always the safest +thing to do in a jam." + +Fred was too furious even to protest. "I don't quite get the idea," he +returned. "But that's up to you. If you want to write thirty-odd +checks instead of one, that's your business, I suppose." + +"Oh, that isn't any trouble," returned the man, complacently. + +Fred swung back to his office. Kendrick must have been gossiping with +a vengeance! What would the insurance offices on the street think when +they received their checks direct from the Hilmer company? It was +insulting! And now he would have to trail about collecting his +commissions instead of merely withholding them from the remittance +that should have been put in his hand. Still, on second thought, he +did feel relieved to know that the matter wouldn't drag on any +longer--that he wouldn't have to ask Brauer to hold off with his bank +deposit another moment. He waited until after the noon hour to begin +the collection of his commissions. Hilmer's cashier had promised to +send his messenger around to the different companies before eleven +o'clock. + +He went into the first office with an assumption of buoyance. The +cashier looked down at him through quizzical spectacles. Yes, the +Hilmer premium was in, but he was very sorry--he couldn't pay Starratt +& Co. anything. + +"Why?" Fred demanded, hotly. + +Because the Insurance Broker's Exchange had sent out a circular asking +the companies to withhold any commissions due that firm until certain +charges of rebating were investigated further and disproved. + +Fred fled to the Exchange. The secretary was out, but his stenographer +confirmed the circular. Fred went back to his office to think things +over. Again he was tempted to repudiate the Brauer check at the bank +and let Brauer do his worst. But he drew back from such a course with +his usual repugnance. He saw now that all his high-flown theory about +standing on his own feet was the merest sophistry. So far, he was +nothing but the product of Hilmer's puzzling benevolence. One jam in +the wheel and everything halted. He thought the whole matter out. He +was still what Hilmer had intimated on the night of that disturbing +dinner party--a creature with a back bent by continual bowing and +scraping--a full-grown man with standards inherited instead of +acquired. Why didn't he go around to the office of Ford, Wetherbee & +Co. and beat up his nasty little ex-partner? Why didn't he meet +Kendrick's gumshoe activities with equal stealth? It should have been +possible to snare Kendrick if one had the guts. And why accept a +gratuity from Hilmer in the shape of two thousand dollars more or less +for commissions on business that one never really had earned the right +to? He began to suspect that Hilmer had instructed his cashier to pay +the companies direct. It was probably his patron's way of forcing home +the idea that the commissions _were_ a gratuity. No doubt even now he +was chuckling at the spectacle of Starratt running about the street +picking up the doles. He decided, once and for all, that he wouldn't +go on being an object of satirical charity. He wouldn't refuse the +Hilmer business, but he would put it on the proper basis. He would put +a proposition squarely up to Hilmer whereby Hilmer would become a +definite partner in the firm--Hilmer, Starratt & Co., to be exact. +This would mean not only an opportunity to handle all the Hilmer +business itself, but to control other insurance that Hilmer had his +finger in. There would be no silent partners, no gratuitous assistance +from either clients or wife, no evasions. From this moment on +everything was to be upon a frank and open basis. + +He went out at once to see Hilmer. His wife answered the door as she +had done previously and he sat in the same seat he had occupied the +night before. He had a sense of intrusion--he felt that he was being +tolerated. Helen had removed the bandage from her wrist and she looked +very handsome in the half-light of a screened electric bulb. He +noticed that flowers had been placed in one of the vases on the +mantelshelf and that the mandarin skirt clung a trifle less precisely +to the polished surface of the oak piano. A magazine sprawled face +downward on the floor. Already the impress of Mrs. Hilmer on the +surroundings was becoming a trifle blurred. + +He came at once to the point--he had a business proposition to make to +Hilmer and he wished to see him. + +But Helen was not to be excluded from the secret of his mission that +easily. The doctor had denied anybody access to Hilmer; therefore, +unless it was very urgent... + +"I want to see about a partnership arrangement," Fred explained, +finally. + +Helen stirred in her seat. "You mean that you want him to go in with +us?... What's the reason? He's satisfied." + +Fred drew himself up. "But I'm not!" he answered, decidedly. + +She shrugged. "We've had one experience...we'd better think twice +before we make another break." + +"_I've_ thought it all over," he replied, pointedly. + +She colored and flashed a sharp glance at him. "I spoke to him about +the premiums this morning... He tells me he ordered them paid." "Yes +... direct to the companies... That's one of the reasons that made me +decide to get things on a better working basis... I'm tired of being +an object of charity." + +She smiled coldly. Well, Hilmer simply wouldn't receive anyone now, +and she herself didn't see the reason for haste. He ended by telling +her the reason ... there was no other way out of the situation. + +"Oh," she drawled, when he had finished, "so getting rid of Brauer was +_too_ easy, after all!" She made no other comment, but he read her +scornful glance. "Any fool would have guessed that!" was what it +implied. + +Still, even with the fact of Brauer's craftiness exposed, she could +not be persuaded that the proposition was quite that urgent. + +"You don't?" he inquired, with growing irritation. "Well, you've +forgotten that check for some six hundred-odd dollars I wrote for +Brauer the other day... I presume you know it's a felony to give out +checks when there aren't sufficient funds on deposit." + +She stared at him. "That's absurd!" she exclaimed. "Brauer wouldn't go +that far!" + +He quite agreed there, but he didn't say so. Instead, he insisted that +anything was possible. They argued the matter scornfully. In the end +he won. + +"Well, I'll try," she announced, coldly. "I'll do my best... But I'm +sure he won't see you." + +She left the room with an indefinable air of boredom. He rose from his +seat and began to pace up and down. The whole situation had a +suggestion of unreality. In pleading with Helen for a chance to talk +to Hilmer he had a sense of crossing swords with some intangible and +sinister shadow; his wife seemed suddenly to have arrived at a state +toward which she had been traveling all these last uncertain weeks ... +fading, fading from the frame of his existence. Was he growing +hypersensitive or merely unreasonable? + +Fifteen minutes passed ... a half hour...an hour. Starratt stopped his +restless movements and picked up the sprawling magazine... Presently +Helen came into the room. He rose. + +Her thin-lipped smile shaped itself with a tolerant geniality as she +came toward him with complacent triumph. + +"Well," she began, easily, "I got a thousand dollars out of him." + +He went up close to her. "A thousand... I don't quite understand." + +She flourished a check in his face. "Oh, he can sign checks with his +left hand," she threw back, gayly. + +"You mean you've spoken to him about the partnership and..." + +"Of course not ... he wasn't in any humor for that." + +"Well, then, what is this check for?" + +She drew back a little. "Why, it's to help you out, of course. Don't +you want it?" + +He felt himself grow suddenly cold as he stood and watched her recoil +momentarily from his two-edged glance. "No!" he retorted. + +She continued to back away from him. He followed her retreat. + +"I don't think you quite get me, Helen," he heard himself say, with +icy sharpness. "I wanted to see Hilmer _myself! I had a business +proposition to put up to him. I want co-operation--not questionable +charity!" + +She flung back her head, but her voice lacked defiance as she said: + +"Was that meant as an insult?" + +"No," he returned, quietly, "as a warning." + +She stood silent, facing him with that clear, disarming gaze that she +knew how to achieve so perfectly. He felt a great yearning overwhelm +him ... a desire to meet her halfway ... a vagrant displeasure at his +ill-natured irritation. + +"How is Mrs. Hilmer?" he asked, suddenly, as he reached for his hat. + +She shrugged. "There isn't any change," she replied, almost inaudibly. + +"Shall I bring you anything from the apartment?" + +"No... I'll go myself this afternoon and get some things together... I +need a little air, anyway." She followed him to the door. "Then I +understand you don't want this?" she inquired, indicating the check in +her hand. + +His only answer was an incredulous stare. + +"What excuse shall I make him?" + +He put on his hat. The flame of his displeasure had cooled, but he was +still inflexible. "None, so far as I am concerned." + +A retort died on her lips. He could see that she was puzzled. + +"Well, so long," he ventured. + +She drew herself up with the swift movement of one parrying a blow. + +"So long!" she echoed, and the door closed sharply. + +He went down the steps. There was an air of finality in his retreat... +At the office he found a note from Brauer. + +Your check has been returned to me... I shall put it through the bank +again to-morrow. + +He crumpled the sheet of paper and dropped it into the waste basket. +How much would Brauer dare? he wondered. + +That night the friend who had first warned him against Kendrick met +him on California Street. + +"I see my prophecy came true, Fred," he hazarded. "Why didn't you tell +me that Brauer was your partner?... By the way, I saw Kendrick and him +going to lunch together to-day. What's the idea?" + +Fred lifted his eyebrows and laughed a toneless reply. What _was_ the +idea? He wished he knew. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The next day passed in complete inaction. Frankly, Starratt did not +know what move to make. He felt that he should have been trying to +square matters, but to raise offhand six hundred-odd dollars was a +feat too impossible to even attempt. He had few relations, and these +few were remote and penniless, and his friends were equally lacking in +financial resource. He was confident that he could convince Hilmer of +the soundness of his new plan once he achieved an interview. But all +his pride rose up to combat the suggestion that he present himself +before Helen and plead for an audience. Once he had an impulse to go +to the president of the bank and ask for an advance at the proper rate +of interest. He knew scores of cases where banks loaned money on +personality; he had heard many a bank official express himself to the +effect that a poor man with a vision and integrity was a better chance +any day than a millionaire lacking a goal or scruples. But in the end +he was swung from any initiative by a passive desire to even his score +with Brauer. After all, it was diverting to wait for his ex-partner's +next move. Brauer had had no compunctions in tricking him. Why, then, +should he worry? No, it would be fun just to let Brauer stew in a +sample of his own Teutonic duplicity. + +He felt a relief at Helen's absence from the office. He had never +wanted her there and he was determined not to have her back. Last +night she had entirely misread the reason back of his desire for an +interview with Hilmer, and he had been moved to a nasty rancor. But +now he felt tolerant, rather than displeased. Women were often like +that, a bit unethical regarding money. In wheedling a check out of +Hilmer she had used the easiest weapons a woman possessed. She had +meant well, Fred concluded, using that time-worn excuse which has +served nearly every questionable act since the world began. And in the +final analysis, he really blamed himself. Such humiliation was usually +the price a man paid when he let the women of his household share in +the financial responsibility. He should have hoed his own row and +wiped the sweat of his labors upon his own coat sleeve. Well, Hilmer +would be about in a few days and meanwhile Brauer would have some +uncomfortable hours. In the end, no doubt, after Brauer had collected +his six hundred dollars, he would go into a partnership with Kendrick. +That explained the mystery of these two linen-collared crooks lunching +together... After all, there was an element of humor in the whole +situation. + +On Saturday morning Starratt overslept and he did not get down to the +office until nearly ten o'clock. He was picking up the mail that had +been dropped through the door when the janitor came close to him. Fred +gave a sharp glance and the man said: + +"There's been a guy waiting around since eight o'clock, watching your +door... I think he must have a paper or something to serve on you... +Matter of fact, he looked like a fly cop to me... I asked him what he +wanted and he just smiled..." + +Fred laughed a careless rejoinder and the janitor went down the hall, +brushing the marble dado with his bedraggled feather duster. + +Fred Starratt closed the door softly and sat down at his desk, trying +to concentrate on his mail. He felt a sudden chill. But he managed, +after a fashion, to fix his mind upon immediate problems. Twice during +the morning he made a move toward leaving to do some soliciting, but +almost at once he invented an excuse which dissuaded him. + +When he went out to lunch he passed a man loitering in the hall. A +crowded elevator shot past. Fred decided to walk down the stairs ... +the man followed at a nonchalant and discreet distance. Starratt +lingered in the marble-flanked doorway... The man crossed the street +and stood on the corner. + +Fred decided to lunch at Hjul's. During the short walk to his +destination he dismissed everything from his mind except the +anticipation of food. He discovered he was very hungry and it struck +him that he had forgotten to breakfast. He had come away from the +house with the idea of getting a cup of coffee in a waffle kitchen on +Kearny Street and his preoccupation had routed this vague plan. He was +chuckling over his lapse when he swung into Hjul's and took a seat +near the window. He ordered a hot roast-beef sandwich and coffee as he +shared his joke with the waitress. She brushed some crumbs from the +table with a napkin, laughed, and went scampering for the order. +Fred's eyes followed her retreat and fell sharply upon the line of men +drifting in the narrow entrance. At the tag end loomed the figure of +the man who had followed him down the stairs from his office. Fred +picked up a newspaper. The man sat down at a table in a far corner. +Over the edge of the newspaper Fred stole a furtive glance. The man +was of slippery slenderness, with a rather round, expressionless face. +His eyes were beady and shifting, and his lips thin and pale and +cruel. The waitress came tripping back with Starratt's order. Fred +fell to. + +Presently Fred finished. He rose deliberately, taking time to brush +every crumb from his lap. At the door he reached for a whisk broom and +wielded it conspicuously. He could not have said whether bravado or +contempt was moving him to such flamboyant dawdling. Or was he merely +trying to persuade himself that he had nothing to fear in any case? He +stepped out into a shower of noonday sunshine flooding through a rift +in the high fog of a July morning in San Francisco. A delicious thrill +from open spaces communicated itself to him. No, he would not go back +to the office--it was Saturday, anyway, and, besides, he felt a vague +desire for freedom and the tang of wind-clean air. He would ride out +to Golden Gate Park and stroll leisurely through its length to the +ocean... He walked briskly down Montgomery Street to Market, waited a +few seconds at a safety station, and finally swung on a car... He was +standing before a tiny lake at the Haight Street entrance to the Park, +watching a black swan ruffling its feathers, when he felt a presence +near him. He did not lift his eyes for some moments, but when he did +look up it was to see his shifty friend of the morning pretending to +be amused at a group of noisy sparrows quarreling over a windfall of +crumbs... Fred Starratt moved on. + +All afternoon Fred Starratt wandered about--sometimes dawdling +defiantly, sometimes dropping into a brisk pace, but at every turn his +new-found shadow followed at an inconspicuous distance. The afternoon +sun was gracious, tinged with a pleasant coolness, and far to the west +a blue-gray fog bank waited for evening to let down the day's warm +barriers. Fred Starratt's thoughts were abrupt and purposeless, like +the unsustained flights of wing-clipped birds. He knew that he was +being followed, and he had a confused sense of something impending, +and yet he was unable or unwilling to face the issue honestly. There +were moments when he glimpsed the truth, but he seemed unmoved by +these truant realizations. Was he too tired to care? He used to +wonder, when he read in the newspapers of some man overtaken by an +overwhelming disgrace, how it was possible to go on living under such +circumstances. Was his indifference of this afternoon the preliminary +move in a long series of heartbreaking compromises and retreats? he +asked himself. But he did not attempt to answer any of these darting +questions. After all, the sun was shining and about him the world +seemed to be swinging on with disarming normality. Upon the trimmed +lawns peacocks strutted and shrieked and from remoter distances the +soft call of the quail echoed caressingly. It was good to be alive, +with one's feet firmly planted on the earth. To be alive and _free_! + +He passed the conservatory and the sunken gardens, flamboyant with +purple-and-gold pansies; he dawdled over the aviary and the bear +cages. He even stopped for tea at the Japanese garden, throwing bits +of sweetened rice-flour cakes to the goldfishes in their +chocolate-colored pond near the tea pavilion. He found himself later +skirting Stow Lake, pursued by flocks of ubiquitous coots, bent upon +any stray crumbs flung in their direction. Finally he dipped suddenly +down into the wilder reaches of the Park, taking aimless trails that +wandered off into sandy wastes or fetched up quite suddenly upon the +trimly bordered main driveway. He always had preferred the untamed +stretches that lay beyond Stow Lake. Here, as a young boy, he had +organized scouting parties when it was still a remote, almost an +unforested sand pile. Later, when the trees had conquered its +bleakness, Helen and he had spent many a Saturday afternoon tramping +briskly through the pines to the ocean. How long ago that seemed, and +yet how very near! Not long in point of time, somehow, but long in +point of accessibility. He seemed to be standing, as it were, upon the +threshold of a past that he could glimpse, but not re-enter. Even +Helen seemed remote--a part of the background that had been, instead +of an equal spectator with him in a review of these dead events. + +It was nearly five o'clock when he drew near the first wind-stunted +pine trees heralding the ocean. He quickened his step. Already the +breeze was tearing across the unscreened spaces and carrying damp +wisps of fog with it. As he found his steps swinging into the ocean +highway he turned and looked back. His discreet pursuer had +disappeared. There was not a soul in sight! + +His heart gave a sudden leap. He hurried forward. A street car was +rounding the terminal loop on its return to town. He clattered aboard. +He felt suddenly free and light hearted, almost gay. What would he do +now? Look up Helen at Hilmer's and persuade her to dine with him +somewhere downtown?... He remembered that he had not even telephoned +her for two days. The conviction that had settled upon him during his +walk through the Park woods descended again. Helen seemed impersonal +and unapproachable... He felt a desire for noise and conviviality and +laughter. He decided to look in at the St. Francis bar and see if he +could chance upon a hilarious friend or two. + +Starratt had overlooked the fact of war-time prohibition when he +picked the St. Francis bar as a place of genial fellowship. The memory +of its old-time six-o'clock gayety was still fresh enough to trick +him. He swung into its screened entrance to find it practically +deserted. The old bustle and hoarse conversation and hearty laughter +were replaced by dreary silence. The provocative rattle of ice in the +highball glass, the appetizing smell of baked ham from the free-lunch +counter, the thick, pungent clouds of tobacco smoke--all had been +routed by chill, hypocritical virtue. One or two of the tables were +surrounded by solemn circles of males getting speedily drunk in an +effort to finish up the melancholy remains filched from some private +stock, but their attempts at light-heartedness were very sad and +maudlin. Fred was moving away when he heard his name called. He turned +to find a group of business associates from California Street sitting +before two bottles of Scotch, which were ministering to their rather +dour conviviality. Starratt started to wave a mingled greeting and +farewell when his raised hand fell heavily against his side--in the +polished depths of the bar's flawless mirror loomed the unwelcome +figure that had pursued him all day!... He went over and joined his +friends. + +He had one drink ... two ... another. Then he lost count ... but the +supply seemed inexhaustible. A sudden rush of high spirits keyed him +tensely. He talked and laughed and waved his arms about, calling upon +everybody to witness his light-heartedness. Through the confused blur +of faces surrounding him he caught an occasional glimpse of the thin, +cruel lips and the shifting, beady eyes of his pursuer sitting over a +flat drink which he left untouched. + +Presently somebody in the party suggested a round of the bohemian +joints. The motion was noisily seconded... Fred staggered to his feet. +They began with the uptown tenderloin, drifting in due time through +the Greek cafes on Third Street. Finally they crossed Market Street +and began to chatter into the tawdry dance halls of upper Kearny. +Everywhere the drinks flowed in covert streams, growing viler and more +nauseous as the pilgrimage advanced. Near Jackson Street they came +upon a bedraggled pavilion of dubious gayety which lured them +downstairs with its ear-splitting jazz orchestra. A horde of rapacious +females descended upon them like starving locusts. Suddenly everybody +in the party seemed moved with a desire for dancing--except Fred. +While the others whirled away he sank into a seat, staring vacantly +ahead. He had reached the extreme point of his drunkenness and he was +pulling toward sobriety again... He came out of his tentative stupor +with the realization that a woman was seating herself opposite him. + +"What's your name?" he demanded, thickly. + +"Ginger," she replied. + +He took a sharper look. A pale, somewhat freckled face, topped by a +glory of fading red hair, thrust itself rather wistfully forward for +his inspection. + +"Go 'way!" he waved, disconsolately. "Go 'way. I don't wanna dance!" + +She smiled with the passive resistance of her kind. "Neither do I," +she assented. "Let's just sit here and talk." + +"Don't wanna talk!" he threw back, sullenly. + +"All right," she agreed; "anything you say... Got a cigarette?" + +He drew out a box and she selected one. The waiter hovered about +significantly. Fred ordered coffee ... Ginger took Whiterock. They +were silent. The music crashed and banged and whinnied, and the air +grew thick with the mingled odors of smoke and stale drinks and sex. + +Finally Fred leaned forward and said in a whisper, "Tell me--has a +snaky-looking dub come into this joint?" + +Ginger swept the room with her glance. "In a gray derby and a green +tie?" + +"Yes." + +"He's over in the corner--talking to a couple of fly cops." + +He reached for a cigarette himself. His voice was becoming steadier. +"What do you think his game is?" + +She pursed her lips. "Oh, I guess he's a private detective," she +appraised, shrewdly. "He isn't quite heavy enough for a real bull." + +He struck a match. "He's been following me all day," he admitted. + +"Somebody's keeping tab, eh?... Is friend wife on the trail?" + +He laughed tonelessly and cast the match aside. The sharp little face +opposite was quickening with interest. + +"No ... I let a bad check get out... _You_ know--no funds." + +"Whew!" escaped her. "That isn't pretty!" + +"You're damned right it isn't!" he echoed, emphatically. + +She clutched at his wrist. "Say, the whole three are coming this +way... I guess they've got a warrant... Don't fight back, whatever you +do!" + +Her words sobered him. She was right--three men were coming toward his +table. He rose with a flourish of dignity. + +"Looking for me?" he asked. + +"If your name is Starratt, we are," one of the men said, moving up +closely. + +"What's the idea?" + +The spokesman of the group flashed his star. "You're wanted on a +bad-check charge." + +Fred reached for his hat. "All right... Let's get out quietly." + +His brain was perfectly clear, but he staggered a trifle as he +followed the men along the edge of the dancing space to the stairway. +The music crashed furiously. Fred's associates were giving all their +attention to treading the uncertain steps of their tawdry bacchanal, +so they missed his exit. + +Halfway up the stair leading to the sidewalk Fred was halted by a +touch upon his arm. He had forgotten Ginger, but there she stood with +that childish, almost wistful, look on her face. + +"Say," she demanded, "can I do anything? I've got a pull if I want to +use it." + +The other three men turned about and waited. The snaky one laughed. +Fred looked at her curiously. + +"You might phone my wife," he returned. "But don't say anything to the +boys!" + +"Where does she live?... I'll go now and see her. That is--if--" + +For a moment Fred Starratt hesitated. Would it be quite the thing to +let a woman like this... But as quickly a sense of his ingratitude +swept him. Whether it was the thing or not, it was impossible to wound +the one person who stood so ready to serve him. A great compassion +seemed suddenly to flood him--for a moment he forgot his own plight. + +"I don't remember the number of the house ... she's with friends. +You'll find the name in the telephone book... Hilmer--Fourteenth +Avenue. Ask for Mrs. Starratt." + +"Axel Hilmer ... the man who--" + +"He's a shipbuilder. Do you know him?" + +She smiled wanly. "Yes ... I know lots of people." + +Fred felt his arm jerked roughly, and the next thing he found himself +half flung, half dragged toward the curb. Instinctively he shook +himself free. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded. + +The ringleader of the group reached forward and grabbed him roughly. + +"D'yer think we've got all night to stand around here while you turn +on sob stuff with a dance-hall tart? You shut up and come with us!" + +"I'm coming as quickly as I can," Starratt retorted. + +He was answered by a hard-fisted blow in the pit of the stomach. He +doubled up with a gasping groan. A crowd began to gather. Presently he +recovered his breath. The blow had completely sobered and calmed him. +He felt that he could face anything now. The jail was just across the +street, so they walked, pursued by a knot of curious idlers. + +They went through a narrow passageway, separating the Hall of Justice +from the jails, and rang a bell for the elevator. In stepping into the +cage Fred Starratt tripped and lurched forward. He was rewarded by a +stinging slap upon the face. He drew himself up, clenching his fists. +He had often wondered how it felt to be seized with a desire to shoot +a man down in cold blood. Now he knew. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The men at the booking desk treated Fred Starratt with a rough +courtesy. They did not make the required search of his person unduly +humiliating, and, when they were through, one of the men said, not +unkindly: + +"We can ring for a messenger if you want to send word to your folks; +... it's against the rules to telephone." + +"I've notified them," Fred returned, crisply. It was curious to +discover that he had no doubts concerning Ginger's delivery of his +message. + +"Is there a chance for you to get bailed out to-night?" the same man +inquired. + +Fred hesitated. "There may be," he said, finally. + +They put him in a temporary cell with three others--two white men and +a Chinese, who had been arrested for smuggling opium. The floor was of +thick boards sloping toward the center, and in a corner was a +washbasin. There were no seats. One of the white men was pacing up and +down with the aimless ferocity of an animal freshly caged. At Fred's +entrance the younger and quieter of these two looked up and said, +eagerly: + +"Got a smoke?" + +Fred drew out a box of cigarettes and tossed it to him. The other +white man came forward; even the Chinese was moved to interest. + +Fred saw the box passed from one to the other. There did not seem to +be any color line drawn about this transient solace. Fred took a smoke +himself. + +"What are you up for?" the younger man inquired. + +Fred experienced a shock. "Oh ... you see ... I just got caught in a +jam. It will come out all right." + +It sounded ridiculous--this feeble attempt at pride, and Fred +regretted it, once it escaped him. But his questioner was not put out +of countenance. + +"Well, if you've got a pull, it's easy; otherwise--" He finished with +a shrug and went on smoking. + +Fred looked at him intently. He was a lad not much over twenty, with +thick black hair and very deep-blue eyes and an indefinable quality +which made his rather irregular features seem much more delicate than +they really were. + +"What's _your_ trouble?" Fred asked, suddenly. + +The boy grinned. "I rolled a guy for twenty dollars in Portsmouth +Square... He was drunk, at that," he finished, as if in justification. + +At this moment the door of the cell was opened. The three white men +started forward expectantly. But it was the Chinese who was wanted. A +group of his countrymen had come to bail him out. + +The man who had been silent suddenly spoke to the policeman as he was +closing the door again. + +"You might as well lock me up proper for the night," he flung out, +bitterly. "I guess they're not coming to get me now." + +The policeman led him away, in the wake of the disappearing Chinese. +The youth turned to Starratt with a chuckle: + +"The old boy's kinda peeved, ain't he? Well, he'll get over that after +a while... The first time they jugged me I thought--" + +"Then you've been up before?" + +"Before?... Say, do I look like a dead one? This isn't a bad habit +after you get used to it... So far I've only made the county jails. +Some day I suppose I'll graduate... But I'm pretty wise--vagrancy is +about all they've ever pinned on me." + +Fred looked at his new friend curiously. There didn't seem to be +anything particularly vicious about the youth. He merely had learned +how to get his hands on easy money and jails were an incident in his +career. Without being asked, he described his first tilt with the law. +He had come, a youth of seventeen, from a country town up North. He +had run away from home, to be exact; there was a stepmother or some +equally ancient and honorable excuse. He had arrived in San Francisco +in January without money or friends or any great moral equipment, and +after a week of purposeless bumming he had been picked up by a +policeman and charged with vagrancy. The obliging judge who heard his +case gave him twenty-four hours to leave town. He went, in company +with a professional tramp, upon the brake beams of a freight train +that pulled out for Stockton that very night. But at Stockton the +train was overhauled by policemen in wait for just these unwelcome +strangers from a rival town, and the two were told to go back promptly +where they came from. They got into San Francisco more dead than +alive, and then the inevitable happened. They were haled before the +selfsame judge who had given the youth such an amazing chance to get +started right. He treated them both to thirty days in the county jail, +and the youth emerged a wiser but by no means a sadder man. He had +learned, among other things, that if one were to be jailed one might +just as well be jailed for cause. The charge of vagrancy was very +inclusive, and a man could skirt very near the edge of felony and +still manage to achieve a nominal punishment. He told all this simply, +naturally, naively--as if he were entertaining an acquaintance with a +drawing-room anecdote. When he finished, Fred inquired: + +"And how about bail to-night?" + +The youth shrugged. "Well, I dunno. I sent word to a girl who--" + +At that moment the attendant appeared again. He had come after the +youth--evidently the girl had proved herself. + +"So long," the boy said to Fred, as he went through the door. "If +you've got a dame stuck on you there's always a chance." + +Fred went over and leaned against the washbasin. His companions had +been diverting. In their company he had ceased to think very +definitely about his own plight. Now he was alone. He wondered what +Helen would do... He put his hand to his cheek--it was still smarting +from the blow that had waked his primitive hatred... + +He was standing in this same position before the washbasin, smoking +furiously, when the attendant came for him. + +"It's past midnight," the man said. "I guess your folks ain't coming." + +Fred stirred. "No, I guess not," he echoed, with resignation. + +The officer took his arm. "Well, we'll have to get fixed up for the +night," he announced. + +Fred threw his cigarette butt on the floor and stepped on it. + + * * * * * + +The next morning at eleven o'clock Fred Starratt heard his name bawled +through the corridors and he was led out to the room where prisoners +were allowed to receive their lawyers or converse with relatives and +friends through the barred and screened opening. + +A man was exchanging tearful confidences with his wife and baby as he +clung to the bars. The woman was sending a brave smile across, but the +wire mesh between gave her face the same unreality that a gauze drop +in a play gives to the figures on the other side. A strange man was +ushered in. + +"Mr. Starratt?" he inquired. + +Fred inclined his head. + +"My name is Watson--from the firm of Kimball & Devine. We're attorneys +for Mr. Hilmer. He asked me to run in and see you this morning. Just +what _did_ happen?" + +Fred recited the events briefly. When he had finished, the attorney +said: + +"Everything depends on this man Brauer. I'll have to get in touch with +him to-day. Hilmer told me to use my own judgment about bail... I +guess it's all right." + +A hot flush overspread Fred's face, but it died quickly. He could +stand any insult now. All night he had been brooding on that slap upon +the cheek. A clenched fist had an element of fairness in it, but the +bare palm was always the mark of a petty tyrant. It was thus that a +woman struck ... or a piddling official ... or a mob bent on +humiliation. They smote Christ in the same way--_with their hands_. He +remembered the phrase perfectly and the circumstance that had +impressed it so indelibly on his mind. His people had seen to it that +he had attended Sabbath school, but he was well past ten before they +had taken him to church. And, out of the hazy impression of the first +sermon he had fidgeted through, he remembered the picture of Christ +which the good man in the pulpit had drawn, sitting in a mockery of +purple, receiving the open-palmed blows of cowards. In his extremity +the story recurred with sharp insistence and all night he had been +haunted by this thorn-crowned remembrance. + +Hilmer's messenger was waiting for him to speak. He gave a shrug. + +"It really doesn't matter," he said. + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Starratt," Watson broke in, reprovingly. "That +isn't any way to talk. You've got to keep your spirits up. Things +might be worse. It's lucky you've got a friend like Hilmer. He's a man +that can do things for you, if anyone can." + +Fred smiled wanly. "I don't suppose you saw my wife, by any chance," +he ventured. + +"No... Fact is, she's in bed... Hilmer said the news completely bowled +her over... That's another reason you've got to buck up--for _her_ +sake, you know!" + +It ended in Watson putting up the bail money and their departing in a +yellow taxicab for an obscure hotel in Ellis Street. + +"This is the best arrangement, under the circumstances," Watson +explained. "You'll want to be quiet and lie low." + +Fred assented indifferently. He was very tired and all he longed for +was a chance to sleep. + +In less than fifteen minutes after his release Fred Starratt found +himself alone in the narrow impersonal room where Hilmer's emissary +had installed him. He did not wait to undress--he threw himself upon +the bed and slept until midnight. + + * * * * * + +He awoke startled and unrefreshed. A newsboy just under his window was +calling the morning papers with monotonous stridency. Fred jumped to +his feet and peered out. People drifted by on the homeward stretch in +little pattering groups--actors, chorus girls, waiters, and melancholy +bartenders. The usual night wind had died ... it had grown warmer. He +turned toward his bed again. The walls of the room seemed suddenly to +contract. He had a desire to get out into the open... He freshened up +and felt better. + +He did not wait for the elevator, but walked down the dim stairway to +the narrow hotel lobby, flooded by a white, searching light. For a +moment he stood in curious confusion at the foot of the stairs that +had so suddenly spewed him from half-light to glare, his eyes blinking +aimlessly. At that moment he saw a familiar figure rising from one of +the morris chairs near the plate-glass window. He stared--it was the +private detective who had hounded him all day Saturday. Slowly he +retraced his steps and found his way back to his room again... No +doubt Brauer, fearful lest his victim would escape before he arranged +the proper warrants for arrest, had been responsible for this man's +presence in the first instance, but who was hiring him now?... +Hilmer?... Well, why not? Surely a man who risked bail money was +justified in seeing that the object of his charity kept faith... Fred +Starratt sat down and laughed unpleasantly. What a contempt everybody +must have for him! What a contempt he had for himself! He threw +himself sprawling his full length upon the rumpled bed. But this time +it was not to sleep. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and puffed +cigarette after cigarette until morning flooded the room... At eight +o'clock he phoned down to have his breakfast sent up. + + * * * * * + +Toward noon Watson came in. "I saw Brauer yesterday and again this +morning... What did you do to make him so sore?" + +Fred shrugged. "I guess I took a superior air... A man who plays up +his honesty is always nasty... I meant well--most fools do!" + +Watson stared uncomprehendingly. "The best thing I can get this man +Brauer to agree to is a compromise... He's eager for his pound of +flesh." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He wants to punish you ... even the score some way... After I saw him +yesterday I went out and talked to Hilmer... We outlined a plan that +Brauer is willing to accept. Hilmer has a pull, you know ... and if +the scheme goes through there'll be no trial, no notoriety, nothing +disagreeable... We'll make it plain to the authorities that you gave +out this check when you were drunk. Habitual intemperance ... that's +to be our plea... It means a few months for you at the state's Home +for Inebriates ... a bit of a rest, really... I'd say you were +extremely lucky." + +Fred was beyond so futile an emotion as anger. Somehow he was not even +surprised, but he had energy enough left for sarcasm. He looked +squarely at Watson as he said: + +"Why not tell the truth? If any judge is willing to convict me on my +intentions I'll go to jail gladly. It seems to me that it ought to be +easy enough to prove that I gave that check to Brauer with every +prospect in the world that I could cover it. He tricked me, really." + +"Yes, but how can you prove it?" + +"Why, there's my wife. She heard every bit of the--" + +"My dear man, you're not going to drag _her_ into this mess, I hope. +What we're trying to do is to hush this thing up, so that in due time +you can come back and take your place in society again without +scandal." + +"How are you going to stop Brauer's tongue?" + +"Oh, we'll see that he keeps his counsel... Hilmer will throw him a +sop... He's going in with this man Kendrick, you know." + +Fred rose and went over to the washbasin and drew himself a drink. +Finally he spoke. "It's a damned lie--the whole thing. That is enough +to queer it with me. I'm not a common drunkard, and you know it." + +"You were drunk when they arrested you." + +"Well ... yes." + +"And that's what gives us such a good chance... Now look here, +Starratt, you can take a tip from me or leave it, just as you see fit. +A trial for a charge such as you're up against is a damned nasty +business. You get publicity that you never live down. And just now +there's a big sentiment developing against letting people off easily +once the thing is made public. The judges are soaking people hard... +You might get off, and then again you _might not_. Would you like to +put your wife in the position of having a convict for a husband? ... +Think it over." + +Fred sat down. He was not beaten yet. After all, what did Helen think +about this arrangement? Had they spoken to her? Some of her methods in +the past had not been to his taste, but they were the best means to an +end that she knew. And she always had been loyal. Ah yes, in a scratch +women did rise to the occasion! For an instant he remembered the +parting comment of his cell companion of Saturday night: + +"If you've got a dame stuck on you there's always a chance." + +He turned to Watson with a smile of triumph. + +"I'll leave the thing to Mrs. Starratt," he said, confidently. "I +think I can depend upon her to stand by me, whatever happens..." + +Watson reached into his inner coat pocket. + +"I've a note from her here," he said, handing Starratt a square +envelope. + +Fred broke the seal and unfolded the contents deliberately. He read +very slowly... When he had finished he read it through again. He sat +for some moments on the edge of the bed, tapping his lips with a +tentative finger. Finally he rose. + +"Well, Mr. Watson," he said, bitterly, "I said I'd stand by Mrs. +Starratt's decision. And I'm a man of my word." + +Watson rose also. "You won't regret this, I'm sure," he ventured, +heartily. "Meanwhile I'll get busy pulling wires at once. It won't do +to let this thing get cold. I'll go right out and see Hilmer now... +Any message you'd like to give your wife?" + +Fred looked at the man before him searchingly. "No ... none!" + +Watson bowed himself out... Fred Starratt put both hands to his +temples. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The days that followed passed in a blur. Fred Starratt went through +the motions of living, but they were only motions. Between the +intervals of legal adjustments, court examinations, and formal red +tape he would lie upon his narrow bed at the hotel reading his wife's +message--that sharp-edged message which had shorn him of his +strength--as if to dull further his blunted sensibilities. In all this +time he saw only Watson. He did not ask for Hilmer or Helen. But one +day the attorney said to him: + +"Your wife is still ill, otherwise--" "Yes, yes ... of course," Fred +assented, dismissing the subject with an impatient shrug. + +Finally, on a certain afternoon at about two o'clock, Watson came in +quite unexpectedly. + +"I think by to-night everything will be settled. ... What can I do for +you? ... Perhaps you would like to go to your apartment and get some +things together... Or see a friend... Just say the word." Fred roused +himself. A fleeting rebellion flickered and died. He wanted nothing +... least of all to so much as see his former dwelling place. He made +only one request. + +"If you're passing that dance hall where they arrested me--you know, +near Jackson Street--drop in and ask for a girl called Ginger. I'd +like to see her." + +Watson smiled widely... + +The girl Ginger came that very afternoon. She was dressed very quietly +in black, with only a faint trace of make-up on her cheeks. Almost +anyone would have mistaken her for a drab little shopgirl. Fred felt +awkward in her presence. + +"I'm going away to-night--for some time," he said, when she had seated +herself. "And I wanted to thank you for your interest when--" + +She shook her head. "That wasn't anything," she answered. + +He wondered what next to say. It was she who spoke finally. + +"I suppose you got out of your mess all right," she half queried. + +He opened his cigarette case and offered her a smoke. She declined. + +"Well, not altogether... My friend Hilmer worked a compromise... I'm +going to a place to sober up." He laughed bitterly. + +She folded her hands. "One of those private sanitariums, I suppose, +where rich guys bluff it out until everything blows over." + +"No, you're wrong again... I'm going summering in a state hospital." + +Her hands, suddenly unclasped, lifted and fell in startled flight. "An +insane asylum?" she gasped. He leaned forward. "Why do you say that?" + +"Because it's the only place in this state where they send drunks... I +know plenty who've been through that game... You can't tell me +anything about that." + +He stared at her in silence and presently she said: + +"What are they doing to you, anyway? Railroading you? I don't believe +you know where you _are_ going." + +He shrugged wearily. "No; you're right. And I don't much care." + +"Why didn't you send for me?" she demanded. "That night when they got +you I told you I had a pull... I'm not a Hilmer, but I can work a few +people myself... I haven't always been a cheap skate. There was a time +when I had them fighting over me. And that wasn't so long ago, +either... I'm still young--younger than a lot that get by. But, +anyway, I've got a lot of old-memory stuff up my sleeve that can make +some people step about pretty lively... There's more than one man in +this town who would just as soon I kept my mouth shut... I could even +run Hilmer around the ring once or twice if I wanted to." + +He felt a bit tremulous, but he put a tight rein upon his emotions. + +"It's very good of you," he said, "but, really, I couldn't quite have +that, you know... I don't mean to be ungrateful or unkind, but there +are some things that--" + +She laughed. "Oh yes, I know... You feel that way now, of course... +You're a gentleman; I understand that... And I haven't run up against +many gentlemen in my day... Oh, there were a lot who had plenty of +money and they were polite enough when it didn't matter ... but ... +Well, I know the real thing when I see it... You're going to that hell +hole, too, just for that very reason... Because you haven't got the +face to be nasty..." + +He crumpled the unlighted cigarette in his hand and flung it from him. + +"What do you know about me?" he asked. + +"Women aren't fools!" she retorted. "And least of all women like me! +... I wish to God I'd known you sooner!" + +He watched the quivering revelations run in startled flight across her +face, hiding themselves as swiftly behind the dull shadows of +indifference. For a moment the room seemed flooded in a truant flash +of sunshine. She seemed at once incredibly old and as incredibly +touched with a vagrant youth. How eagerly she must have given herself! +How eagerly she could give herself again! + +He rose in his seat, confused. She seemed to have taken it for a sign +of dismissal, for she followed his example. + +"Maybe it isn't too late," she faltered. "Maybe I could work that pull +I've got ... if you want me to." + +He shook his head. "It's out of my hands," he answered. She moved to +the door, as if to place a proper distance between them. + +"What does your wife think about it?" + +He shrugged. + +"You won't like what I'm going to say," she flung out, defiantly. "But +that night when I saw your wife _I_ knew." + +"Knew what?" + +"That she wasn't playing fair..." Her face was lighted with a +primitive malevolence. "She isn't straight!" + +He tried to pull himself up in prideful refutation, but the effort +failed. He was turning away defeated when a knock sounded on the door. +Watson entered. Ginger drew herself flatly against the wall. The +attorney gave a significant glance in her direction as he said to +Starratt: + +"Your wife is waiting in the hall ... just around the corner. I +thought it best to ..." + +Ginger came forward quickly. "Good-by!" she said, hurriedly. + +He put out a hand to her. She moved a little nearer and, suddenly, +quite suddenly, she kissed him. He drew back a little, and presently +she was gone... + +He looked up to find Helen standing before him. She was a little pale +and her lips more scarlet than ever, and her thick, black eyebrows +sharply defined. He had never seen her look so disagreeably handsome. + +"That woman who just went out," she began, coolly, "she's the same one +who--" + +"Yes," he interrupted, crisply. + +"Who is she?" + +He looked at her steadily; she did not flinch. "A friend of mine." + +Her lip curled disdainfully. "Oh!" she said, and she sat down. + + * * * * * + +Toward evening they came for him, or rather Watson did, with a +taxicab. + +"Everything has gone nicely," Watson explained, pridefully. "You +certainly were lucky in having Hilmer for a friend ... no humiliation, +no publicity." + +Fred, standing before the bureau mirror, brushed his hair. "Where are +you taking me now?" he inquired. + +"To the detention hospital... You'll stay there a week or so for +observation... It's a mere form." + +"And from there?" + +"To the state hospital at Fairview." + +Fred Starratt flung down the brush. "Why don't you call it by its +right name? ... I'm told it's an insane asylum." + +Watson stared and then came forward with a little threatening gesture. +"You better not start any rough-house, Starratt--at the eleventh +hour!" he admonished, with a significant warmth. + +Fred turned slowly, breaking into a laugh. "Rough-house?" he echoed. +"Don't be afraid. ... I've got to the curious stage now. I want to see +the whole picture." He reached for his hat. "I'm ready ... let's go." + +A half hour later Fred Starratt was booked at the detention hospital. +They took away his clothes and gave him a towel and a nightgown and +led him to a bathroom... Presently he was shown to his cell-like room. +Overhead the fading day filtered in ghostly fashion through a +skylight; an iron bed stood against the wall. There was not another +stick of furniture in sight. + +He crawled into his bed and the attendant left him, switching on an +electric light from the outside. A nurse with supper followed +shortly--a bowl of thin soup and two slices of dry bread. Fred +Starratt lifted the bowl to his lips and drank a few mouthfuls. The +stuff was without flavor, but it quenched his burning thirst... After +a while he broke the bread into small bits--not only because he was +hungry, but because he was determined to eat this bitter meal to the +last crumb. When he had finished he felt mysteriously sealed to +indifference. + +The nurse came in for the tray and he asked her to switch off the +light. He lay for hours, open-eyed, in the gloom, while wraithlike +memories materialized and vanished as mysteriously. Somehow the +incidents of his life nearest in point of time seemed the remotest. +Only his youth lay within easy reach, and his childhood nearest of +all. He was traveling back ... back ... perhaps in the end + + oblivion would wrap him in its healing mantle and he would + wait to be made perfect and whole again in the flaming + crucible of a new birth... Gradually the mists of + remembrance faded, lost their outline ... became confused, + and he slept. + +He awoke with a shiver. A piercing scream was curdling the silence. +From the other side of the thin partition came shrieks, curses, mad +laughter. He heard the heavy tramp of attendants in the hallway ... +doors quickly opened and slammed shut. ... There followed the sounds +of scuffling, the reeling impact of several bodies against the wall +... then blows of shuddering softness, one last shriek ... dead +silence! + +He sat up in bed--alive and quivering. Was this the rebirth that the +swooning hours had held in store for him? ... Quickly life came +flooding back. Indifference fell from him. In one blinding flash his +new condition was revealed. His life had been a futile compromise. He +had sowed passivity and he had reaped a barren harvest of negative +virtues. He would compromise again, and he would be passive again, and +he would bow his neck to authority ... but from this moment on he +would wither the cold fruits of such enforced planting in a steadily +rising flame of understanding. He knew now the meaning of the word +"revelation." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +They kept Fred Starratt in bed for two weeks, and one morning when the +sun was flooding through the skylight with soul-warming radiance they +brought him his clothes and he knew that the prologue to the drama of +his humiliation was over. He crawled to his feet and looked down upon +his body wasted by days of enforced idleness and fasting. He dropped +back upon the bed, exhausted. The sun, striking him squarely, +gradually flamed him with feeble energy. He straightened himself and +dressed slowly. + +When he had finished the sun still poured its golden shower into the +room. He rose to his feet and lifted his chilled hands high to receive +its blessing. He felt the blood tingle through his transparent +fingers. + +In the next room he heard the tramping of feet and a feeble curse or +two. He dropped his hands and sat down again. The nurse came in with +his breakfast. + +"The man next door?" he asked. "Is he leaving to-day, too?" + +"Yes." + +"Where does he go?" + +"To Fairview." + +A memory of that first night with its piercing terror sent a shiver +through him. + +"They brought him in the same day I came," he ventured, half musingly. +"At the beginning he made a lot of noise, but lately..." + +She set the tray down upon the bed. "They had to put him in a +strait-jacket," she said, significantly. "He's quite hopeless. He +tried to kill his wife and his child ... and he set fire to the home. +He's an Italian." + +"Yes ... so I was told." + +The nurse departed and he drank the cup of muddy coffee on the tray. +He laid the cup down and sat staring at the square cut in the center +of the thick oak door leading into the corridor. Presently he heard +the swish of a woman's skirt passing the opening, followed by the +pattering footsteps of childhood. There came the sound of soft weeping +... the swishing skirt passed again, and the pattering footsteps died +away. The nurse returned. + +"The Italian's wife and child have just been here," she said. "They +let the woman look for the last time at her husband through the hole +in the door." + +Fred put his head between his hands. "He tried to murder her and yet +she came to see him," he muttered, almost inaudibly. "I dare say he +abused her in his day, too." + +The woman gave him a sharp glance. "You're married, aren't you?" + +He looked up suddenly, reading the inference in her question. "Yes ... +but my wife won't come..." + +The nurse left the room and he put his face in his hands again. The +sun was traveling swiftly. He shifted his position so that he could +get the full benefit of its warmth. He thought that he had banished +the memory of Helen Starratt forever, but he found his mind +re-creating that final scene with her in all its relentless +bitterness... She had come that day to salve her conscience ... to pay +her tithe to form and respectability ... perhaps moved to fleeting +pity. He had seen through every word, every gesture, every glance. Her +transparency was loathsome. Why did he read her so perfectly now? Was +it because she felt herself too secure for further veilings, or had +his eyes been suddenly opened? + +She was not flaming nor reckless nor consumed utterly; instead, there +was a complacent coolness about her, as if passion had drawn every +warmth within her for its own consummation. She had still her +instincts in the leash of calculation, going through the motions of +conventionality. The lifted eyebrows and curling lip which she had +directed at Ginger's departing figure were not inconsistent. +Dissimulation was such an art with her that it was unconscious. + +He had asked her only one question: + +"And how is Mrs. Hilmer?" + +Even now he shuddered at the completeness with which her words +betrayed her. + +"There is no change ... we are simply waiting." + +He had turned away from this crowning disclosure. _Waiting_? No wonder +she could veil her desire in such disarming patience! He had intended +asking her plans. Now it was unnecessary. And he had thought at once +of that last night when he had called at Hilmer's, remembering the +sprawling magazine on the floor, the bowl of wanton flowers upon the +mantelshelf, the debonairly flung mandarin skirt clinging to the +piano--these had been the first marks of conquest. + +As she was leaving she had said, "I shall see you again, of course." + +In spite of its inconsistency he had sensed a certain habitual +tenderness in her voice, as if custom were demanding its due. And, for +a moment, the old bond between them touched him with its false warmth. +But a swift revulsion swept him. + +"Why bother?" he had thrown back at her. + +"You mean you don't want me to come?" + +"Yes, just that!" + +He had taken her breath away, perhaps even wounded her, momentarily, +but she had recovered herself quickly. Her smile had been full of the +smug satisfaction of one who has washed his hands in public +self-justification. + +She had left soon after that passage at arms, achieving the grace to +dispense with the empty formality of either a kiss or a farewell +embrace... He remembered how he had flung up the window as if to clear +the room of her poisonous presence... + +To-day, sitting upon his narrow bed, instinctively following the patch +of yellow sunlight as it gilded the gloom, he felt that the maniac +next door had the better part. Of what use was reason when it ceased +to function except in terms of withering unbelief? + +He sat motionless for hours, waiting patiently for them to come and +release him to sharper sorrows. He had a passive eagerness to taste +bitterness to the lees... When he heard the door open finally he did +not rise. He kept his face buried. A light footstep came nearer and he +was conscious of the pressure of icy fingers upon his hands. He looked +up. Ginger stood before him. + +"I brought you some smokes," she said, simply, "but they wouldn't let +me bring them in." + +He tried to speak, but suddenly great sobs shook him. + +She put her fingers in his hair, drawing him to his feet, and +presently he felt her own tears splashing his cheek. + +He was smiling when they finally came for him. But he felt weaker than +ever, and as they walked out into the glare of the street he was glad +to lean upon Ginger's arm. The sheriff's van was drawn up to the curb. +Two deputies helped him in. He turned for a last look at Ginger. Her +pale little face was twisted, but she waved a gay farewell. In a far +corner of the lumbering machine Fred could see two catlike eyes +glimmering. Slowly his gaze penetrated the gloom, and the figure of a +battered man shaped itself, his two hands strapped to his sides. The +deputies got in, the door was shut sharply, and the van shot forward. + +In less than fifteen minutes they had reached the ferry. + +The train was late, and it was long after nine o'clock when it pulled +into the Fairview station. The day had been hot, and the breath of +evening was bringing out grateful and cooling odors from the sunburnt +stubble of the hillside as Fred Starratt and his keeper stepped upon +the station platform. The insane Italian followed between two guards. +An automobile swung toward them. They got in and rode through the +thickening gloom for about three miles... Presently one of the +deputies leaned toward Fred, pointing a finger in the direction of a +cluster of lights, as he said: + +"There's your future home, old man. Keep a stiff upper lip. You'll +need all your grit." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Fred Starratt rested surprisingly well that first night. But two weeks +in the detention hospital had taken the sting out of institutional +preliminaries. The officials at Fairview put him through precisely the +same paces, except upon a somewhat larger scale. There was the +selfsame questioning, the same yielding up of personal effects, the +same inevitable bath. And almost the same solitary room, except that +this one peered out upon the free world through a heavily barred +window instead of through a skylight, and boasted a kitchen chair. He +was to be alone then!... He thanked God for this solitude and slept. + +He awoke at six o'clock to the clipped shriek of a whistle. Shortly +after, a key turned in his door. There followed the sound of scores of +bare feet pattering up and down the hall. Was it imagination or did +these muffled footfalls have an inhuman softness?... Suddenly his door +flew open. He shrank beneath the bedclothes, peering out with one +unscreened eye. + +A knot of gesticulating and innocent madmen were gazing at him with +all the simplicity of children. After a few moments, their curiosity +satisfied, they pattered on their ghostly way again. + +This, he afterward learned, was the daily morning inspection of +newcomers. + +Presently the whistle blew again and a bell sounded through the +corridors. A rush of answering feet swept past; a great silence fell. + +A half hour later a monstrous man with glittering eyes and clawlike +fingers came in, carrying breakfast--a large dishpan filled with a +slimy mush, two slices of dry bread, and a mound of greasy hash. Fred +turned away with a movement of supreme disgust. The gigantic attendant +laughed. + +There came a call of, "All outside!" echoing through the halls; a rush +of feet again, a hushed succeeding silence. The half-mad ogre went to +the window and slyly beckoned Fred to follow. He crawled out of bed +and took his place before the iron bars. The man pointed a skinny +finger; Fred's gaze followed. He found himself looking down upon a +stone-paved yard filled with loathsome human wreckage--gibbering +cripples, drooling monsters, vacant-eyed corpses with only the motions +of life. Some had their hands strapped to their sides, others were +almost naked. They sang, shouted, and laughed, prayed or were silent, +according to their mental infirmities. It was an inferno all the more +horrible because of its reality, a relentless nightmare from which +there was no awakening. + +Fred heard the man at his side chuckling ferociously. + +His tormentor was laughing with insane cruelty. "The bull pen! Ha, ha, +ha!" + +Fred made his way back to his bed. Midway he stopped. + +"Does everybody ..." he began to stammer--"does everybody ... or only +those who ..." + +He broke off in despair. What could this mad giant tell him? But +almost before the thought had escaped him his companion read his +thought with uncanny precision. + +"You think I don't know!" the man said, tapping his head +significantly. "But everybody ... they all ask me the same question. +Yes ... you'll take your turn, my friend. Don't be afraid. They'll +give you the air in the bull pen, all right! Ha, ha, ha!" And with +that he picked up the dishpan of untasted breakfast and hurried from +the room. + +Fred Starratt sank down upon the bed. His temples were throbbing and +his body wet with an icy sweat. + + * * * * * + +He was roused by a vigorous but not ungentle tap upon the shoulder. He +stumbled to his feet, shaking himself into a semblance of courage. But +instead of the malevolent giant of the breakfast hour, a genial man of +imposing bulk stood before him. "My name is Harrison," his visitor +began, kindly; "I'm an assistant to the superintendent... Perhaps +you'd like to tell me something about yourself?" + +Fred drew back a trifle. "Must I?..." + +Harrison smiled as he seated himself in the chair. + +"No ... but they usually do ... after the first night... It helps, +sometimes, to talk." + +"I am afraid there's nothing to tell... I'm here, and I'll make the +best of it..." + +Fred wiped the clammy sweat from his forehead with a gesture of +despair. + +Harrison leaned forward. "Don't you feel well?" he inquired. + +"It's nothing... I looked out into the yard this morning... I dare say +one gets used to it--but for the moment... You have other yards, I +suppose... That is, I sha'n't have to take the air there ... shall I +... in the bull pen?" + +"It's usual ... for the first day or two. But perhaps in your case--" +Harrison broke off. "However, I can't promise anything... If you'll +come to the office I'll give you back your clothes." + +They went into the office together and Fred received his clothing duly +marked with his name and ward. But his shoes were withheld and in +their place he was given a pair of mismated slippers which proved too +large. Harrison handed him two rag strips with which he tied them on. +Looking down at the shapeless, flapping footgear, Fred Starratt felt +his humiliation to be complete. He walked slowly back to his room. + +The noise from the bull pen was deafening. He went to the window and +steeled himself against the sight below... At first he shuddered, but +gradually his hands became clenched, in answer to a rising +determination. Why should he flinch from anything God himself could +look upon?... He was still standing by the window when the gong for +the midday meal sounded. The bull pen had long since been deserted +and, with the foreground swept clean of its human excrescence, his +purposeless gaze had wandered instinctively toward the promise of the +forest-green hills in the distance. + +He heard the familiar rush of feet toward the dining room and he was +vaguely conscious that some one had halted before his door. He turned +about. A young man, not over twenty-five, with a delicately chiseled +face, was stepping into the room. As he drew closer Fred received the +wistful impression of changing-blue eyes and a skin clear to the point +of transparency. Fred met his visitor halfway. + +"You came last night, didn't you?" the youth began, offering a shy +hand. "I saw you this morning. I was in the crowd that looked you over +just before breakfast... What are you here for?" + +Fred lifted his hand and let it fall again. "I made a mess of +things... And you?" + +"Booze," the other replied, laconically. "I've been in three times... +Let's go down to lunch." He slipped a friendly arm into Fred's and +together they walked with the rushing throng into the dining room. + +It was a small room, everything considered, with tables built around +the four walls and one large table in the center that seated about +twenty-five people. Starratt and his new-found friend discovered two +vacant seats upon the rude bench in front of the center table and sat +down. They were each given a plate upon which was a potato and a small +piece of cold beef and the inevitable hunk of dry bread. A large +pitcher of tea stood within reach. There was neither milk nor sugar +nor butter in evidence. A tablespoon and a tin cup were next handed +them. Fred felt a sudden nausea. He closed his eyes for a moment, and +when he looked up his plate had been swept clean of food. + +"You've got to watch sharp," the youth was saying. "They steal +everything in sight if you let them... Here, have some of mine." + +Fred made a gesture of refusal. "It doesn't matter," he explained. +"I'm not hungry." + +"You'd better eat something... Have some hot tea!" + +It was a black, hair-raising brew, but Fred managed to force down a +draught of it. About him on all sides men were tearing their meat with +clawlike hands, digging their fangs into it in wolfish ferocity... A +dishpan of rice was circulated. Fred took a few spoonfuls. Within +fifteen minutes the meal was over and the dishpan, emptied of its +rice, was passed again. Fred saw his companions flinging their spoons +into it. He did likewise. + +The youth arose. "Let's get out of this and have a smoke... I've got +the makings." + +A great surge of relief swept over Fred. A smoke! Somehow, he had +forgotten that such a solace existed in this new world of terror and +pain. + +It appeared that the only place indoors where smoking was permitted +was the lavatory, but when they reached the corridor they found a line +forming ready to march out to take the air. They decided to wait and +have their smoke in the open. Fred and his companion exchanged names. +The youth was Felix Monet. + +"I'm not sure whether you go out with us," Monet admitted, as they +swung into place. "This crowd is bound for the front parade ground. +It's not usual for newcomers to have that privilege." + +Fred made no reply. The line of men shuffled forward. + +"We go downstairs first for our shoes," the youth finished. + +Presently they found themselves upon the ground floor, in a small room +where an attendant distributed shoes and hats. It appeared that Fred's +shoes were there, duly labeled. The man in charge made no objection to +yielding them up. + +"You must have a pull," Monet remarked, as Fred sat down upon a stool +to draw on his shoes. + +Fred shook his head in silence. Evidently the assistant superintendent +had said a word for him. ... He was not to be put to the torture of +the bull pen, then! + +Outside, the air was warm and the sunlight dazzling. Fred felt a surge +of red-blooded life sweep him as his quivering nostrils drank in the +pungent odors from the midsummer foliage. Waves of heat floated +wraithlike from the yellow stubble, bathing the distant hills in an +arid-blue haze. At convenient intervals clumps of dark-green trees +threw contrasting patches of shade upon the tawny, sun-bleached sod. +But Fred ignored their cool invitation. He always had hated hot +weather with all his coast-bred soul, but to-day a hunger for warmth +possessed him completely. + +Monet and he took a broad path which circled for about a quarter of a +mile about the grounds. As they progressed, several joined them. Fred +was introduced to each in turn, but he responded listlessly. Almost at +once the newcomers hurled questions at him... Why was he there? ... +How long was he in for? ... What did he think were the chances of +escape? Inevitably, every conversation turned upon this last absorbing +topic. These men seemed eager for confidences, they wanted to share +their experiences, their grievances, their hopes. But Fred Starratt +recoiled. He had not yet reached the stage when a thin trickle of +words fell gratefully upon his ears. He had no desire to either hear +or speak. All he craved was the healing silence of open spaces. But he +was soon to learn that this new life held no such soul-cleansing +solace. Gradually he fell a bit apart from his chattering comrades. + +They passed an ill-kept croquet ground and some patches of garden +where those who were so disposed could raise vegetables or flowers. +There was something pathetic about the figures bending with childlike +faith over their labor of love--attempting to make nature smile upon +them. Without the vision of the bull pen Fred Starratt would have +found much that afternoon that was revolting. But one glimpse into the +horrible inferno of the morning had made him less sensitive to milder +impressions. + +After a while Monet detached himself from the rest of the walking +throng and fell back with Starratt. He seemed to have an instinctive +gift for sensing moods, and Fred was grateful for his silence. + +They were passing by a two-story concrete building in the Colonial +style when Monet touched Fred's arm. + +"That's the famous Ward Six," Monet explained, softly. "You'll get +there finally if you work it right... It's not heaven ... but +alongside the other wards it comes pretty near being." + +They turned about shortly after this and began to retrace their steps. +Presently a man came in sight, pulling a cardboard box mounted upon +four spools. + +"An inventor," Monet said, as Fred threw out a questioning glance. "He +has an idea that he's perfected a wonderful automobile... You'll get +used to them after a while." + +A little farther on they met a haughty-looking Japanese coming toward +them. Monet plucked at Fred's sleeve. "Better step to one side," he +cautioned; "that fellow thinks he is the Emperor of Japan!" + +Fred did as he was bidden and the Japanese swept past gloomily. + +"Well, at least he's happy, in his own way!" Monet commented, with a +tinge of irony. + +Soon after that another man passed, weeping bitterly. + +"They call him the Weeping Willow," Monet explained. "He weeps because +he can find no one who will kill him." + +Fred shuddered. + +By this time they had reached their starting point. Fred felt suddenly +tired. "Let's rest a bit under the trees," he proposed. + +Monet assented, and the two threw themselves into the first shade. +Fred closed his eyes. He had a sense that he was dreaming--that all +the scenes that he had witnessed these many days were unreal. +Presently he would wake up to the old familiar ring of his alarm +clock, and gradually all the outlines of his bedroom would shape +themselves to his recovered senses... There would stand Helen by her +dressing table, stooping down to the mirror's level as she popped her +thick braids under her pink boudoir cap... In a few minutes the first +whiffs of coffee would come floating in from the kitchenette. Then he +would crawl slowly out from the warm bedclothes and stretch himself +comfortably and give a sudden dash for the bathroom and his cold +plunge. There would follow breakfast and the walk over the hill down +to the office of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. in a mist-golden morning. And +he would hear again the exchange of greetings, and find himself +replying to the inevitable question: + +"Well, what's new?" + +With the equally inevitable answer: + +"Not a thing in the world!" + +Some one was shaking him. He gave a quick gasp that ended in a groan +as he opened his eyes. Monet was bending over him. + +"You've been asleep," his companion said. "Come, it's time to go in... +The bell for supper has rung... And you were dreaming, too ... I knew +that because you smiled!" + +Fred Starratt grasped Monet's hand fervently. + +"It was good of you to keep watch," he murmured. + +Monet answered with a warm pressure. And at that moment something deep +and indefinable passed between them ... a silent covenant too precious +for words. + +Fred Starratt rose to his feet. + +"Let us go in!" he said. + + * * * * * + +At supper Fred Starratt nibbled at some dry bread and drank another +strong draught of tea. But he had to force himself to even this scant +compromise with expediency. There followed smoking in the lavatory and +at seven o'clock the call to turn in. Fred scurried confidently to his +cell-like room ... he was quite ready for solitude. + +An attendant was moving about. "You sleep in the first dormitory +to-night," he explained to Fred. "It's at the end of the hall." + +Fred turned away in fresh despair. + +Before the door of the first dormitory a number of men were +undressing. Monet was in the group and a newspaper man named Clancy +that Fred had met that afternoon. Fred stood a moment in indecision. + +"You'll have to strip out here," Monet said, in a matter-of-fact tone. +"Just leave your clothes in a pile close against the wall." + +Fred obeyed. The rest of the company regarded him with sinister +curiosity. Except for Monet and Clancy all seemed obviously insane. +One by one they filed into the room. Fred followed. Twelve spotlessly +clean cots gleamed in the twilight. + +The twelve men crawled into bed; the door was shut with a bang. Fred +heard a key turn... They were locked in! + +The ghostly day faded and night settled in. Fitful snorings and groans +and incoherent mutterings broke the stillness. At intervals a man near +the door would jump to his feet, proclaiming the end of the world. +Sometimes his paroxysm was brief, but again he would keep up his +leaping and solemn chanting until he fell to the floor in sheer +exhaustion... Gradually even he became quiet, and nothing was audible +except heavy breathing and the sound of the watchman in the corridor +as he passed by regularly, flashing his light into the room through +the slits in the door. + +Fred Starratt did not close his eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The first week passed in an inferno of idleness. Fred Starratt grew to +envy even the wretches who were permitted to carry swill to the pigs. +There once had been a time in his life when ambition had pricked him +with a desire for affluent ease... He had been grounded in the +religious conviction that work had been wished upon a defenseless +humanity as a curse. He still remembered his Sabbath-school stories, +particularly the scornful text with which the Lord had banished those +two erring souls from Eden. Henceforth they were to work! To earn +their bread by the sweat of their brows! He had a feeling now that +either God had been tricked into granting a boon or else the scowl +which had accompanied the tirade had been the scowl that a genial +Father threw at his children merely for the sake of seeming +impressive. At heart the good Lord must have had only admiration for +these two souls who refused to be beguiled by all the slothful ease of +Eden, preferring to take their chances in a world of their own +making... And he began to question, too, either the beauty or +contentment of the heaven which offered the vacuous delights of +idleness. It seemed, perhaps, that the theologians had mixed their +revelations, and that the paradise they offered so glibly was really a +sinister hell in disguise. + +After the first day the sights which had sent shudders through him +gradually began to assume the inevitability of custom. Even the vision +of the Weeping Willow, sorrowing at death withheld, failed to shake +him. The third night he slept undisturbed in the lap of frenzy and +madness. There was something at once pathetic and sublime in his +adaptability to the broken suits of fortune. He was learning what +every man learns sooner or later--to play the hand that is dealt, even +in the face of a losing game. + +Deep within him he found two opposing currents struggling for +mastery--one an overwhelming tide of disillusionment, the other a +faith in things hitherto withheld. Against the uncloaked figures of +Helen Starratt and Hilmer loomed Ginger and Monet. Did life always +yield compensations, if one had the wit to discern them? In the still +watches of the night, when some fleeting sound had waked him, he used +to think of Ginger as he had thought when a child of some intangible +and remote vision that he could sense, but not define. Would he ever +see her again? Suddenly, one night, he realized that he did not even +know her name... And Monet, who slept so quietly upon the cot next to +him--what would he have done without his companionship? He used to +raise himself on his elbow at times and look in the ghostly light of +morning at Monet's face, white and immobile, the thin and shapely lips +parted ever so slightly, and marvel at the bland and childlike faith +that was the basis of this almost breathless and inaudible sleep. Fred +had made friendships in his life, warm, hand-clasping, +shoulder-thumping friendships, but they had been of gradual unfolding. +Never before had anyone walked full-grown into his affections. + +On the third afternoon, sitting in the thick shade of a gracious tree, +Monet had told Fred something of his story. He was of mixed +breed--French and Italian, with a bit of Irish that had made him +blue-eyed, and traces of English and some Dutch. A brood of races that +were forever at war within him. And he had been a musician in the +bargain, and this in the face of an implacable father who dealt in +hides and tallow. There had been all the weakness and flaming and +_naïveté_ of a potential artist ground under the heel of a relentless +sire. His mother was long since dead. The father had attempted to +force the stream of desire from music to business. He had succeeded, +after a fashion, but the youth had learned to escape from the dull +pain of his slavery into a rosy and wine-red Eden. ... Three times he +had been sent to Fairview "to kick the nonsense out of him!" to use +his father's words. He was not embittered nor overwhelmed, but he was +passive, stubbornly passive, as if he had all a lifetime to cross +words with Monet, senior. It was inevitable that he would win in the +end. He was a child ... he always would be one ... and childhood might +be cowed, but it was never really conquered. He was gentle, too, like +a child, and sensitive. Yet the horrors which surrounded him seemed to +leave him untroubled. It could not be that he was insensible to +ugliness, but he rose above it on the wings of some inner beauty... +Once Fred Starratt would have felt some of the father's scorn for +Felix Monet--the patronizing scorn most men bring to an estimate of +the incomprehensible. What could one expect of a fiddler? Yes, he +would have felt something worse than scorn--he would have been moved +to tolerance. + +The only other man in Ward 1 who was sane was Clancy, the newspaper +reporter. But in the afternoons the knot of rational inmates from the +famous Ward 6 herded together and exchanged griefs. Fred Starratt sat +and listened, but he felt apart. Somehow, most of the stories did not +ring quite true. He never had realized before how eager human beings +were to deny all blame. To hear them one would fancy that the busy +world had paused merely to single them out as targets for misfortune. +And the more he listened to their doleful whines the more he turned +the searching light of inquiry upon his own case. In the end, there +was something beyond reserve and arrogance in the reply he would make +to their direct inquiries: + +"What brought me here? ... Myself!" + +But his attitude singled him out for distrust. He was incomprehensible +to these burden shifters, these men who had been trained to cast their +load upon the nearest object and, failing everything else, upon the +Lord... They were all either drug users or victims of drink. And, to a +man, they were furiously in favor of prohibition with all the strength +of their weak, dog-in-the-manger souls. Like every human being, they +hated what they abused. They wanted to play the game of life with +failure eliminated, and the god that they fashioned was a venerable +old man who had the skill to worst them, but who genially let them +walk away with victory. + +As Fred Starratt listened day after day to their chatter he withdrew +more and more from any mental contact with them. And yet there were +times when he felt a longing to pour out his grief into the ears of +understanding... He knew that Monet was waiting for his story, but +pride still held him in its grip... After all, there was a ridiculous +side to his plight. When a man permitted himself to be blindfolded he +could not quarrel at being pushed and shoved and buffeted... How +absurd he must have seemed to Watson on that day when he had announced +so dramatically: + +"I said I'd stand by Mrs. Starratt's decision. And I'm a man of my +word!" + +How much a man would endure simply for the sake of making a fine +flourish! He had thought himself heroic at that moment, poor, empty +fool that he was, when he really had been the victim of cowardice. A +brave man would have cried: + +"I said I'd stand by Mrs. Starratt's decision, but I'm not quite an +idiot!" + +One other topic flamed these poor souls, seeking to kindle a warmth of +sympathy for their failures. When the lamentations ceased, they talked +of flight. Fred Starratt sat mentally apart and listened. Everybody +had a plan. They discussed prospects, previous attempts, chances for +failure. Fred learned, among other things, that the search for escaped +nationals did not extend much beyond the environs of Fairview. If a +man from Ward 6 made a good get-away he held his freedom, unless his +kinsfolk constituted themselves a pack of moral bloodhounds. He +realized now that there was nothing as relentless as family pride. It +was not so much the alcoholic excess that was resented, but the fact +that it led to unkept linen and dirty finger nails and, by the same +token, to neighborhood scorn. Concern for a man's soul did not send +him to Fairview... But was anybody really concerned for a man's soul? +... Why should they be? ... He ended by quarreling only with the +pretense. + +Escape! Escape! To get back to the world that they were forever +reviling! Like men in the grip of some wanton mistress who could bring +them neither happiness nor heroics, either in her company or away from +her. Take Fordham, for instance, a lean, purple-faced clerk, who had +been sent up for the third time by his wife after two sensational +escapes. He hadn't disturbed her, looked her up, gone near her, in +fact. But he had laid up alongside an amber-filled bottle in a moldy +wine shop somewhere near the Barbary coast. Yes, he had achieved it +even in the face of prohibition. And she had got wind of it. Folks had +seen him, red-eyed and greasy-coated and bilious-hued, emerging from +his haunt in some harsh noon that set him blinking, like a startled +owl. Well, she couldn't quite have that, you know! She couldn't have +her husband making a spectacle of himself, sinking lower and lower in +the hell of his own choosing. No! Far better to pick out a hell for +him ... a hell removed discreetly from the gaze of the scornful. ... +And there was Wainright, who, like Monet, had a father. He had married +a Runway Girl of the Bearcat Follies ... the sort that patters down +from the stage to imprint carmine kisses and embarrassment upon the +shining pate of the first old rounder that has an aisle seat. Well, +father could not have that, either. He was impatient with the whole +performance. Indeed, a less impatient man would have waited and +watched Wainright, junior, wind himself in the net which his own hands +had set. Instead, he went to the trouble of digging a pit for his son +which hastened the inevitable, but did not cure the folly... Wainright +had escaped, too, quite casually, one fine spring day when he had been +sent out to the barn to help milk the cows. The Runway Girl, in need +of publicity, had telegraphed the details to her press agent, +following receipt of her husband's letter telling of his exploit. A +Runway Girl whose husband-lover broke jail, so to speak, for her, had +professional assets that could not be gainsaid. + +And so the story was flashed on the front page of every newspaper in +the country, with the result that father dug another pit. + +And so tale succeeded tale. Fred grew to accept most of them with +large dashes of salt. Not that he doubted the broader strokes with +which the effects were achieved, but he mistrusted that many of the +finer shadings had been discreetly painted out. He was learning that +there was nothing so essentially untruthful as a studied veracity... +Had not he tricked himself with just such carefully heightened +details? What he had mistaken for a background of solid truth had +proved nothing but pasteboard scenery flooded with a semblance of +reality achieved by skillful manipulation of spotlights. He had been +satisfied with the illusion because he had wished for nothing better. +And at this moment he was more desolate than any in this sad company, +because he seemed the only one who had lost the art of escaping into a +world of lies. He had no more spotlights to manipulate. He sat in a +gloomy playhouse and he heard only confused voices coming from the +stage. He was not even sorry for himself. Whether he was sorry for +others he could not yet determine. + +One afternoon at the close of the first week, as he was walking back +to Ward 1 with Monet, following one of these inevitable experience +meetings, he turned to the youth and said: + +"You have been here three times now. Have _you_ never thought of +escape?" + +Monet shrugged. "Yes ... in a way. But I'm no great hand at doing +things alone." + +They walked on in silence. Finally Fred spoke. + +"Suppose you and I try it sometime? ... It will give us something to +think about... But we'll go slow. It will just be a game, you +understand." + +Monet's eyes lit up and his breath came quickly between his parted +lips. "You're splendid to me!" he cried. "But the others--you seem to +hate them. Why?" + +Fred kicked a fallen branch out of his path. "They whine too much!" he +muttered. + +The boy was right, he _did_ hate them! + +At the office he found that a package had come for him in the mail, +and a letter. Both had been opened by the authorities. He read the +letter first. It was from Helen. She had heard that cigarettes were a +great solace to men in his situation, and so she had sent him a large +carton of them. She expressed the hope that everything was going well, +and she filled the rest of her letter with gossip of the Hilmers. Mrs. +Hilmer was a little better and she was wheeling her out on fine days +just in front of the house. The nurse had gone and she was doing +everything. But these people had been so good to her! What else was +there left to do? She ended with a restrained dignity. She offered +neither sympathy nor reproaches. Fred had to concede that it was a +master stroke of implied martyrdom. He flung the letter into the +nearest wastebasket. He had an impulse to do the same thing with the +cigarettes, but the thought of Monet's pleasure in them restrained +him. He took the package to the dormitory. Monet had gone up before +him. + +Fred threw his burden on Monet's bed. The youth gave a low whistle of +delight. + +"Pall Malls!" he cried, incredulously. "Where did you get them?" + +"They came from my wife." + +"Oh! ... Don't you want any of them?" + +"No." + +At the smoking hour Fred saw Monet take out his pitiful little bag of +cheap tobacco and roll the usual cigarette. + +"What? ... Aren't you smoking Pall Malls?" he asked, with a shade of +banter in his voice. + +Monet shook his head. "I don't want them, either... What shall we do? +Give them to the others?" + +Fred stared through a sudden mist. "Why--yes. Just whatever you like." + +That night, when everyone else was asleep, Fred Starratt told Felix +Monet his story... + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +One morning, at the beginning of the second week of Fred Starratt's +stay at Fairview, as he and Monet were swinging back to lunch after a +brisk walk, they received orders to fall in line with the inmates of +Ward 6. + +"Things will be better now," Monet said, with his usual air of quiet +reassurance. + +And so it proved. + +Fred's first introduction was to the dining room. It was not an +extraordinary place, and yet Fred gave a little gasp as he entered it +and stood staring almost foolishly at the tables set with clean linen. +Three of its sides were made up almost entirely of windows, before +which the shades were drawn to shut out the hot noonday sun, and its +floor of polished hardwood glistened even in the subdued light. They +sat down in the first seats that came to hand, and it was not until +some cold meat was passed that Fred discovered a knife and fork at his +place. The meat was neither choice nor dainty, but somehow just the +fact of this knife and fork gave it extraordinary zest. Later on, +small pats of butter were circulated and a spoonful of sugar apiece +for the tea. And once again he listened to people talk while they ate +... heard a subdued, but sane, laugh or two... There was a smoking +room also, not overlarge, but adequate. + +The inmates of Ward 6, from whom Fred had stood aloof, welcomed him +warmly. He was at a loss to know why until Monet explained. + +"It's the cigarettes." + +"Ah, then you distributed them here? I thought they went to the other +poor devils." + +The youth turned a wistful glance toward him. "I knew you'd get over +to this place finally ... and I wanted them to like you..." + +Fred fell silent over the implied rebuke. + +The dormitories were large and light and airy and scrupulously clean, +but the usual institutional chill pervaded everything... Yet, for a +season, Fred Starratt found all discrimination smothered in his +reaction to normal sights and sounds. But, after a day or two, the +same human adaptability that had made him accept the life in Ward 1 as +a matter of course rose to the new environment and occasion. Presently +his critical faculty flooded back again--almost for the first time +since his arrest. And he knew instinctively that he was standing again +on surer ground. He began to wonder, for instance, just what the +commonwealth was doing for these human derelicts which it shed such +facile tears over... He knew, of course, what it had done in his case. +It had given him three indifferent meals, vaccinated him, put him +through a few stereotyped quizzes to assure itself that he was neither +insane nor criminal, and finally moved him on to a less trying but an +equally vacuous existence. He used to wonder just what tortures the +others had endured during that week of probation in Ward 1, which, in +nearly every case, so far as he could learn, included the experience +of the bull pen. For, after all, these other men were physically +shaken from excess--weak, spent, tremulous. He had been through mental +tortures, but, at least, his body and soul had had some fitness for +the strain upon him. How close did the winds of madness come to +snapping clean these empty reeds ... how many were broken utterly? He +asked Monet. + +"Lots of them go under," Felix Monet had returned. "I think I came +very near it myself... I remember that first night I spent alone in +Ward One... I'd been three weeks without a drop of anything to drink. +Cut off, suddenly, like that!" He made a swift gesture. "And all at +once I found myself in a madhouse. I actually knocked my head against +the wall that night... And, in the morning, came the bull pen... They +knew I wasn't insane. My record--everything--proved that! ... When I +protested, their excuse was that everyone was equal here ... there +were no favorites. ... More lies in the name of equality! The thing +doesn't exist--it never has existed. Nothing is equal, and trying to +make it so produces hell. They're always trying to level ... level. +They want to strip you of everything but your flock mind. Ah yes, +timid sheep make easy herding!" + +For the first time Fred Starratt saw Monet quivering with unleashed +conviction, and he glimpsed the hidden turbulence of spirit which +churned under the placid surface. + +"After a while," Monet went on, "when I got almost to the snapping +point, they sent me to Ward Six. You know how it is--like a clear, +cold plunge ... it wakes you up... There's a method in it all. They +know that after a week in hell you find even purgatory desirable." + +"And yet, once you got away, you traveled the same road that had +brought you here in the first place... Was the game worth the candle?" + +"It was an escape while it lasted, even though it did lead me to +prison again... But isn't that where escape always leads? The world is +a good deal like Fairview--a rule-ridden institution on a larger +scale... We escape for a time in our work, in our play, in our loves, +but the tether's pretty short. ... And finally, one day, death swings +the door open and we go farther afield." + +"To another institution with a little more garden space?" Fred +queried, pensively. + +Monet shrugged. "Perhaps... Who knows?" + + * * * * * + +There followed another week of idleness, and one day, as Fred Starratt +was dawdling in the sun, Harrison came up to him and said: + +"The head waiter in the dining room at Ward Six goes out to-morrow. +Would you like his job?" + +"Like it?" Fred found himself echoing, incredulously. "Can I begin at +once ... now?" + +Harrison chuckled with rare good nature. "Well, to-morrow, anyway. +Just report in the kitchen after breakfast." + +He could hardly wait for the next morning to come. He bungled things +horribly at first. It looked easy enough from the side lines--bringing +in the plates of steaming food, doling out sugar for the tea, passing +the dishpan about at the end of the meal for the inmates to yield up +their knives and forks. But after the first day Fred was swept with a +healing humility. It was necessary for even the humblest occupation to +be lighted with flickerings of skill. + +He liked setting the table best, especially in the morning after the +breakfast crowd had gone. Then the sun was not yet too hot for comfort +and the long dining room was bathed in a golden mist. In a corner near +one of the windows a canary hopped blithely about its bobbing cage and +released its soul in a flood of song. He would begin by laying the +plates first, inverted, in long, precise rows. Then carefully he would +group the knives and forks about them. Not only carefully, but slowly, +so that the task might not be accomplished too readily. And all the +time his thoughts would be flying back and forth ... back and forth, +like a weaver's shuttle. At first these thoughts would pound harshly; +but gradually, under the spell of his busy hands, he would find his +mental process growing less and less painful, until he would wake up +suddenly and find that he had been day dreaming, escaping for a time +into a heaven of forgetfulness. + +Toward the end of the month a crew was picked among the inmates of +Ward 6 to man a construction camp a few miles to the north where the +state was building a dam. Clancy was among the number, and Fordham and +Wainright, junior. Monet was offered the choice of assisting Fred +Starratt in the dining room or going out with the kitchen staff to +camp. He chose the dining-room job. + +The only personal news from the outside world came to Fred in a weekly +letter from Helen, which arrived every Saturday night. He used to tear +the envelopes open viciously and read every word with cold disdain. He +never thought of answering one ... indeed, many a time he had an +impulse to send them back unopened. But curiosity always got the +better hand. Not that he found her news of such moment, but her +dissimulation fascinated him. She never chided him for not replying +... she never complained ... but every line was flavored with the +self-justification of all essential falseness. She was playing a game +with herself as completely as if she had written the letters and then +scribbled her own name upon the envelope. She was looking forward to +the day when she could say: + +"I did my duty ... I helped start him in business ... I saved him from +jail ... I wrote him a letter every week, in spite of the fact that he +never answered me... What more would you have a woman do?" + +What more, indeed? How completely he read her now! Yes, even between +the lines of her nonchalant gossipings he could glimpse her soul in +all its intricate completeness. Her letters were salt on his deadened +wound. Perhaps that was why he did not return them unopened. He felt +vaguely that it would be a shameful thing to be ultimately sealed to +indifference. + +But one Saturday night two letters were put into his hand. He read the +strange one first. + + I have not written you before because I had no news for you. + Yesterday I passed Hilmer's house and saw your wife wheeling + Mrs. Hilmer up and down the sidewalk. Some day when I get a + chance I shall speak to Mrs. Hilmer. + + I am living in a lodging house on Turk Street. My name is + Sylvia Molineaux. You will find my address below. Write and + tell me what you want. And always remember that I am here + watching. + + GINGER. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Toward the middle of the following week Fred answered Ginger's letter. +But his phrases were guarded and his description of life at the +hospital full of studied distortion. He knew quite well that every +letter which left the institution was opened and censored, but, with +certain plans lying fallow in his brain, he had a method back of the +exaggerated contentment he pictured. He had a feeling that Ginger +would not be misled altogether. She knew the deceitful bravado of life +too well and, according to her own report, something of the existence +he was leading in the bargain. He found himself curiously willing to +take anything from her hand that was in her power to supply. He felt +no sense of awkwardness, no arrogant pride, no irritating obligation. +She had become for him one of the definite, though unexplainable, +facts of existence which he accepted with all the simplicity of a +child of misfortune. + +She answered promptly, sending cigarettes and tobacco and a pipe. But +her letter was devoid of news---except that she had passed Hilmer's +again and found Helen wheeling Mrs. Hilmer back and forth in the +sunshine at the appointed hour. But, as time wore on, it transpired +that this seemingly innocent passing and repassing of the Hilmer house +carried unmistakable point. Presently, to Mrs. Hilmer, basking in the +sun and deserted for a moment, Ginger had nodded a brief good-morning. +There followed other opportunities for even more prolonged greetings +until the moment when Ginger had boldly carried on a short +conversation in the coldly calm presence of Helen Starratt. Helen must +have known Ginger. It was inconceivable that any woman, under the +circumstances, could have forgotten. But either indecision or a veiled +purpose made her assume indifference, and Ginger's progress was +registered in a short sentence at the end of a brief scrawl which +said: + + To-day I took a book out and read to Mrs. Hilmer for an hour + in the sunshine. + +And later another statement forwarded this curious drama with pregnant +swiftness: + + Yesterday, I told Mrs. Hilmer about you. + +Fred read this sentence over and over again. To what purpose did +Ginger discuss him with Mrs. Hilmer? ... Surely not altogether in the +name of entertainment. + +Meanwhile, summer died, hot and palpitant and arid to the end. And +autumn came gently with cool, foggy mornings and days of sunshine +mellowed like old gold. Fred Starratt rose in rapid succession to the +position of pantryman, head waiter to the attendants, assistant +bookkeeper in the office. He was given more and more freedom. Indeed, +between the working intervals, undisturbed by even a formal +surveillance, he and Monet fell to taking walks far afield. He found +the shorter days more tolerable. With dusk coming on rapidly, it was +easier to accept the inflexible rule that required everyone to be in +bed and locked up by seven o'clock. + +New faces made their appearance in Ward 6, old ones vanished. Clancy +made a get-away sometime in September just before the construction +camp broke up. Fordham tried also, but was unsuccessful, and got a +month in the bull pen for his pains. These adventures stirred everyone +to vague restlessness. Fred began to speculate on chances, talking +them over with Monet. But the boy seemed listless and depressed, +without enthusiasm for anything. He brooded a great deal apart. +Finally one day Fred asked him what was troubling him. + +"I miss my music," he said, briefly. + +Fred prodded further. His need was, of course, for a violin. + +"We'll write Ginger," Fred decided at once. + +It had seemed quite a matter of course until he sat down with pen in +hand and then he had a feeling that this last demand was excessive. He +fancied she would achieve it someway, and he was not mistaken. The +violin came and, everything considered, it was not a bad one. Monet's +joy was pathetic. Fred wrote back their thanks. "How did you manage +it?" he asked. + +Her reply was brief and significant: "You forget I know all kinds of +people." + +From the moment the violin arrived Monet was a changed man. Suddenly +he became full of nervous reactions to everything about him. He lost +all his sluggish indifference, he talked of flight now with +fascinating ardor. + +"When shall it be? Let us get out quickly. We can make our way easily +with this!" he would cry, tapping the violin lovingly. "While I play +on street corners you can collect the dimes and nickels." + +Monet had meant to be absurd, of course, but Fred was finding nothing +absurd or impossible these days. The youth's laughing suggestions +flamed him with a sudden yearning for vagabondage. He wanted, himself, +to be up and off. But by this time October was upon them, ushered in +by extraordinary rainfall. The coming rain gave him pause. He used to +look searchingly at Monet's delicate face, and finally one day, in +answer to the oft-repeated question, Fred replied: + +"I think we'll have to stand it until spring... If we want to go east, +over the mountains--this is no time." + +They had often speculated as to a route. Most runaways took the road +toward the coast and achieved capture even in the face of comparative +indifference. The trails to the east led into the heart of the Sierra +Nevada Mountains. With the first breath of autumn these byways, +difficult of achievement in any case, became more and more impassable. +And, while flight toward the west might be successful, it was too +charged with a suggestion of failure to be tempting. + +"We don't just want to _attempt_ to escape," Starratt used to explain. +"We want to _do_ it!" + +"But, spring!" Monet would echo. "That means May at the earliest. The +mountain passes will be impossible even in April. Let's try!" + +"Come, come! Why this sudden restlessness? I thought your music would +be a solace. But it seems to have made you dissatisfied. I can't +understand it." + +"We live by desire! I am happy only when I am burning! When the flame +is out there are only ashes." + +Fred yielded finally to the extent of starting plans. Food was the +first consideration. Monet was still in the dining room at Ward 6. +About the first of November he began hoarding sugar and rice. A hollow +tree in an obscure corner of the grounds back of the barns was the +hiding place. Everyday a little more was added to the store. The +process communicated a feeling of extraordinary interest to them both. +Around this almost trivial circumstance whirled the shadows of +infinite romance. Escape! At last these two men had a goal ... they +were no longer drifting. + +Once a week Fred continued to receive two letters--one from his wife +and one from Ginger. It was curious to compare them--reading an +ironical comedy between the lines ... creating the scenes that were +being enacted by the triangle of women in front of the Hilmer dwelling +every day in the early morning sunshine. For, as time went on, it +appeared that Ginger walked through her inscrutable part with +irritating fidelity--that is, irritating to Helen Starratt. It could +not be otherwise, Fred decided, remembering the look of cool contempt +which his wife had thrown at Ginger's departing figure on the day of +their last interview. He saw Mrs. Hilmer only vaguely, in a +half-light, and yet out of the fragmentary sentences he got a sense of +something patient and brooding and terrible waiting an appointed +season. She seemed to be sitting back like some veiled and mystic +chorus, watching the duel of the other two and somehow shaping it to +her passive purpose. + +And where was Hilmer in it all? Somehow, in spite of his masculine +virility, he seemed to have no place nor footing upon the narrow ledge +of feminine subtleties. No doubt, as usual, he was proceeding in his +direct and complacent line, unaware of anything save the brutally +obvious... Perhaps only the brutally obvious had any existence, +perhaps Fred Starratt was spinning fantasies out of threads which came +to his hand. He did not know, he could not say, but in the still +watches of the night the figures of these three women circled round +and round the seething caldron of the future like skinny witches upon +a blasted heath. + +Meanwhile, rain succeeded rain. Fred Starratt knew that escape was +impossible under these conditions, but he let Monet chatter away and +continue his hoarding. Thus they passed Thanksgiving, and suddenly +Fred felt that Christmas would soon be upon them, with all its +heartbreaking melancholy. + +As Christmas drew near a bitter restlessness began to pervade Ward 6. +The rain fell in torrents for days. There was little chance for fresh +air or exercise except in the bull pen, which was provided with a shed +that ran the length of the wall. Into this dismal and jail-like yard +poured the entire human wreckage of Fairview. Fred and Monet went with +the others for one or two days, but finally Monet said: + +"Let's walk in the rain ... anything would be better than this." + +And so the next day, waiting until a pelting shower had merged +gradually into a faint mist, the two took a quick-step run about the +parade ground. They came back splashed with mud and dripping wet, but +their cheeks glowed and their hearts beat quickly. After that, no +matter how violent the downpour, they managed to take a turn in the +open. Sometimes they circled the grounds repeatedly. Again, if the +rain proved too drenching, one short run was all they could achieve. + +At the end of a week of such heroic exercising Monet said, +significantly: + +"You see how well I am standing this! Every day toughens us up... We +ought to be leaving soon." + +"After Christmas," Fred conceded, briefly. + +There followed a brief respite of clear, crisp days, warming to +mellowness at noon. After the midday meal everyone crawled out into +the sunlight, standing in little shivering groups, while Monet played +upon his violin. The cracked inventor, pulling his cardboard box on +its ridiculous spools, stopped to listen; Weeping Willow forgot his +grief and almost achieved a smile. Only the Emperor of Japan continued +his pacing back and forth, his royal gloom untouched by any responsive +chord. + +But the reaction from this sedative of music was in every case +violent. The remainder of the afternoon passed in tragic unquiet. One +day Harrison called Fred aside. The assistant superintendent was daily +yielding more and more to Fred's judgment. + +"What do you think about a Christmas tree for Ward Six?" + +For a moment Fred was uncertain. He knew the poignance of disturbing +memories. But, in the end, he felt that perhaps the floodgate of grief +had best be lifted. He knew by this time the cleansing solace of +tears. + +"We've never done it before," Harrison went on. + +"There has been a prejudice against bringing old days back too clearly +to these wretches... But Monet's been playing his music and they seem +to like that." + +It ended by Fred going out with Monet and one of the attendants into +the hills and bringing back a beautiful fir tree. They set it up in a +corner of the dining room and its bruised fragrance filled the entire +building... There followed the problem of its trimming. At first some +one suggested that it was more beautiful untricked with gauds, but to +Fred, unlighted by any human touch its loveliness seemed too cold and +impersonal and cruelly pagan. Presently the long afternoons were +rilled with a pathetic bustle. Everyone became interested. They popped +corn and strung it in snow-white garlands and some one from the +kitchen sent in a bowl of cranberries which were woven into a +blood-red necklace for the central branches. Harrison brought round a +sack of walnuts and some liquid gilt and two brushes. Men began to +quarrel good-naturedly for a chance at the gilding. A woman attendant, +hearing about the tree, rode, herself, into the village and bought +candles... Finally it was finished, and it stood in the early twilight +of a dripping Christmas Eve, a fantastic captive from the hills, +suffering its severe dignity to be melted in a cheap, but human, +splendor... They had a late dinner by way of marking the event, and +the usual turn of keys in the locks at seven o'clock was missing. At +the close of the meal as they were bringing on plum pudding Fred rose +from his place to light the candles... A little tremor ran through the +room; Monet started to play... He played all the heartbreaking +melodies--"Noël" and "Nazareth" and "Adeste Fideles." Slowly the tears +began to trickle, but they fell silently, welling up from mysterious +reaches too deep for shallow murmurings. Suddenly a thin, quavering +voice started a song. + + "God rest you, merry gentlemen!" + +The first line rang out in all its tremulous bravery. + +"_Merry_ gentlemen!" flashed through Fred's mind. "What mockery!" + +But a swelling chorus took it up and in the next instant they were men +again. They sang it all--every word to the last line ... repeating +each stanza after the little man who had begun it and who had risen +and taken his place beside Monet. + + "Now to the Lord sing praises, + All you within this place, + And with true love and brotherhood + Each other now embrace, + This holy tide of Christmas + All other doth deface." + +Only Fred remained silent. He could not sing, +the bravery of it all smote him too deeply. + + "This holy tide of Christmas + All other doth deface." + +They were singing the last words over again. + +Fred Starratt bowed his head. For the first and only time in his life +he felt Christ very near. But the Presence passed as quickly. When he +looked up the singing had ceased and the candles upon the tree were +guttering to a pallid end. Monet laid down his violin and blew out the +dying flames; his face was ashen and as he grasped the branches of the +tree his hand shook. A man in front rose to his feet. Flockwise the +others followed his lead. Christmas was over!... Fred Starratt had a +sense that it had died still-born. + +The next morning came wrapped in a dreadful silence. Men stood about +in huddling groups and whispered. The exaltation of the night before +had been too violent. A great dreariness oppressed Fred Starratt. He +felt the inevitable sadness of a man who had met unveiled Beauty face +to face and as speedily found the vision dissolved. The tree still +swept the rooms and corridors with its fragrance, but in the harsh +daylight its cheap trappings gave it a wanton look. Somehow, it mocked +him, filled him with a sense of the vanity of life and all its +fleeting impressions. The rain came down in a tremulous flood, +investing everything with its colorless tears. The trees, the +buildings, the very earth itself seemed to be melting away in +silvery-gray grief. + +Just before noon it lightened up a trifle and the rain stopped. + +"Let's get out of this!" Monet said, sweeping the frozen assembly in +the smoking room with an almost scornful glance. + +They found their hats and without further ado they started on a swing +about the grounds. It grew lighter and lighter ... it seemed for a +moment as if the sun would presently peep out from the clouds. They +achieved the full length of the parade ground and stopped, panting for +breath. Fred wiped his forehead with a huge handkerchief. + +"Shall we keep going?" he asked. + +Monet nodded. They swung into a wolfish trot again, across a stretch +of green turf, avoiding the clogging mud of the beaten trails. They +said nothing. Presently their rhythmic flight settled down to a +pleasurable monotony. They lost all sense of time and space. + +Gradually their speed slackened, and they were conscious that they +were winding up ... up... It was Monet who halted first. They were on +a flat surface again, coming out of a thicket suddenly. There was a +level sweep of ground, ending abruptly in space. + +"We're on Squaw Rock!" Fred Starratt exclaimed. + +The two went forward to the edge of a precipice. The embryo plain +leaped violently down a sheer three hundred feet directly into the lap +of a foaming river pool. Fred peered over. + +"There's the usual Indian legend, isn't there," he asked Monet, +"connected with this place?" + +Monet moved back with a little shudder. "Yes ... I believe there is... +The inevitable lovelorn maiden and the leap to death... Well, it's a +good plunging place." + +They both fell back a trifle, letting their gaze sweep the landscape +below, which was unfolding in theatrical unreality. At that moment the +sun came out, flooding the countryside with a flash of truant +splendor. To the south nestled the cluster of hospital buildings, each +sending out thin gray lines of smoke. Moving up the valley, hugging +the sinuous banks of the river, a train nosed its impudent way. + +"When shall we be leaving for good?" Monet asked, suddenly. + +Fred let out a deep breath. "The first time it really clears!" + +Monet rested his hand upon Fred's shoulder. "If we go east we'll have +to cross the river." + +"We'll follow the railroad track north for a mile or two. There's a +crossing near Pritchard's. I saw it on the day we went after the +tree." + +The train pulled into the station and was whistling on its way again. +The hospital automobile swung toward the grounds. Suddenly the sun was +snuffed out again; it grew dark and lowering. + +"We had better be on our way," Fred said, warningly. "It's going to +pour in less than no time." + +For a moment a silence fell between them, succeeded by an outburst +from Monet. + +"Let's keep on!" he cried, harshly. "Let's keep right on going! I +don't want to go back. I won't, I tell you! I won't!" + +Fred took him by the shoulders ... he was trembling violently. "Come +... come! We can't do that, you know!... We haven't provisions or +proper clothing. And the rain, my boy! We'd die of exposure ... or ... +worse!" + +"I don't care!" Monet flung out, passionately. "I'm not afraid to die +... not in the open." + +"And you haven't your violin," Fred put in, gently. + +"I never want to play again--after last night. ... It was horrible ... +horrible... '_God rest you, merry gentlemen_!' What could have +possessed them?" + +"Come, now!... You'll feel better to-morrow... And I promise you on +the first clear day we'll make it... The first morning we wake up and +find a cloudless sky." + +Fred moved forward, urging Monet to follow. The youth gave a little +shiver and suffered Fred's guidance. + +"If I go back now," he said, sadly, "it will be forever. I shall never +leave." + +Fred turned about and gave him a slight shake. "Nonsense! Last night +made you morbid. Harrison ought to have known better. This is no place +for Christmas! One day should be always like another." + +Monet shook his head. "While they were sing ... something passed ... I +can't describe it. But I grew cold all over ... I knew at once that... +Oh, well! what's the use? You do not understand!" + +He flung his hands up in a gesture of despair. + +Fred looked up at the sky. It had grown ominously black. "We'd better +speed up," he said, significantly. + +Monet squared himself doggedly. "You run if you want to... It doesn't +matter to me one way or another ... I feel tired." + +The rain began to fall in great garrulous drops. Fred took Monet's +sleeve between his fingers; slowly they retraced their steps. For a +few yards the youth surrendered passively, but as Fred neared the +thicket again he felt the sharp release of Monet's coat sleeve. He +continued on his way... Suddenly he heard a noise of swift feet +stirring up the rain-soaked leaves. He turned abruptly. Monet was +running in the other direction--toward the precipice. A dreadful chill +swept him. He tried to call, to run, but a great weakness transfixed +him. The startled air made a foolish whistling sound. Monet's figure +flew on in silence, gave a quick leaping movement, and was lost! + +Fred Starratt crawled back toward the precipice. The rain descended in +torrents and a wind rose to meet its violence. He looked down. The +pool below was churning to whitecapped fury, releasing a flood of +greedy and ferocious gurglings. Gradually a bitter silence fell and a +gloom gathered. Everything went black as midnight... + +He felt a cold blast playing through his hair. Instinctively he put +his hand to his head. His hat was gone. + +Suddenly it came to him that he would have to go back to Fairview ... +_alone_. + +He rose to his feet. "North ... a mile or two!" he muttered. "If I can +once cross the bridge!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +On a certain evening in February Fred Starratt, from the upper deck of +a ferryboat, again saw the dusky outlines of San Francisco stretch +themselves in faint allurement pricked with glittering splendor. It +was a mild night--the skies clear, the air tinged with pleasant chill, +the bay stilled to nocturnal quiet. + +He had come out upon the upper deck to be alone. He wanted to approach +the city of his birth in decent solitude, to feel the thrill of +home-coming in all its poignant melancholy. He had expected the event +to assume a special significance, to be fraught with hidden meaning, +to set his pulses leaping. But he had to confess that neither the +beauty of the night nor the uncommon quality of the event moved him. +Had he been wrung dry of all emotional reaction? It was not until a +woman came from the stuffy cabin and took a seat in a sheltered corner +outside that he had the slightest realization of the nearness of his +old environment. As she passed close to his pacing form a sickly sweet +odor enveloped him. He looked after her retreating figure. She was +carrying a yellow armful of blossoming acacia. The perfume evoked a +sad memory of virginal springs innumerable ... springs that seemed to +go back wistfully beyond his own existence ... springs long dead and +never to be revived. Dead? No, perhaps not quite that, but springs +never to be again his portion. This perfume of the blossoming acacia +... how in the old days it had always brought home a sense of +awakening, a sense of renewal to a land burned and seared and ravished +in the hot and tearless passion of summer! Following the first rains +would come the faint flush of green upon the hillsides, growing a +little deeper as the healing floods released themselves, and then, one +day, suddenly, almost overnight, the acacia would bend beneath a +yellow burden, sending a swooning fragrance out to match the yellow +sunlight of February. From that moment on the pageant was continuous, +bud and blossom and virginal leaf succeeding one another in showering +abundance. But nothing that followed quite matched the heavy beauty of +these first golden boughs, nothing that could evoke quite the same +infinite yearning for hidden and heroic destinies. He defined the +spell of the perfume again, but he did not feel it. It shook his +memory to its foundations, but it left his senses cold. And the city +before him was as sharply revealed and as cruelly unmoving. + +Suddenly he was done with a desire for solitude and he went below. A +half score of men were idling upon the lower deck. He began his +restless pacings again, stroking his faded beard with a strangely +white hand. Finally he stopped, gazing wistfully at the dark beauty of +the ferry tower, sending its winsome shaft up into the quivering +night. A man at his elbow began to speak in the characteristically +Californian fashion about the weather. + +"Yes," Fred assented, briefly, "it _is_ a fine night." + +"Too fine," the stranger returned. "We need rain." + +"Haven't you had much down this way, either?" Fred found himself +inquiring, glad of a chance to escape for the moment into the +commonplace. + +"At the beginning of the season it came on a bit, but since Christmas +there has been scarcely a drop. How does the country look?" + +Fred leaned against a water barrel and continued to stroke his beard. + +"Pretty well burned up. But the fruit trees will soon be blossoming in +spite of everything... The worst of it is there isn't any snow in the +mountains." + +"Ah, then you've been up into the Sierras." + +"Yes, since December... I had to make my way through the northern +passes just after Christmas. Folks told me it couldn't be done... I +guess it would have been almost impossible in a wet season. But things +were the same way up north. No end of rain in the fall and none to +speak of since the holidays. But at that I've been through some tough +times... How are things in town?" + +The stranger unbuttoned his shabby overcoat and took out a bag of +tobacco. His indifferent suit and thick blue-flannel shirt, which +ordinarily would have stamped him as an artisan, was belied by the +quality of his speech. + +"Things are rotten. Everybody is striking. You can't get work anywhere +except you want to scab... You'd better have stayed where you came +from." + +There was a tentative quality in this observation that roused in Fred +a vague speculation. He had a feeling that the stranger was leading up +cautiously to some subject. He looked again, this time sharply, at his +companion of the moment. There was nothing extraordinary in the face +except the eyes burning fitfully under the gloom of incredibly thick, +coarse, reddish eyebrows. His mouth was a curious mixture of softness +and cruelty, and his hands were broad, but not ungraceful. + +"Well, if a man is starving he'll do almost anything, I guess," Fred +returned, significantly. + +"Do you mean that _you_ would--if you were starving?" + +"I'm starving now!" escaped Fred Starratt, almost involuntarily. + +"I thought so," said the other, quietly. + +"Why?" + +"I've seen plenty of starving men in my day. I know the look. And +you're suffering in the bargain. Not physically. But you've been +through a hell of some kind. Am I right?" + +"Yes ... you're quite right." + +The boat was swinging into the slip. Already a crowd was moving down +upon them. + +"That's why I spoke to you. A man who's been through hell is like a +field freshly broken to the plow. He's ready for seed." + +Fred cast an ironical glance at the man before him. "And you, I +suppose, are the sower," he said, mockingly. "A parson?" + +The other laughed, disclosing greenish teeth. "Of a sort... Perhaps +high priest would be nearer the truth. There's a certain purposeful +cruelty about that term which appeals to me. I'm a bit of a fanatic, +you know... But I like to get my recruits when they're bleeding raw. I +like them when the salt of truth can sting deep... Wounds heal so +quickly ... so disgustingly quickly." + +He spat contemptuously and began to cram a blackened pipe to +overflowing. The boat had landed and already the crowd was moving up +the apron. Fred and his companion felt themselves urged forward by the +pressure of this human tide. + +"Come and have some coffee with me," Fred heard the man at his side +say in a half-commanding tone. "My name is Storch. What shall I call +you?" + +"Anything you like!" Fred snapped, viciously. + +The other laughed. "You're in capital form! Upon my word we'll get on +famously together." And he spat again, this time with satisfaction and +rare good humor. + +Fred Starratt looked up. They had emerged suddenly from the uncertain +twilight of a stone-flanked corridor into a harsh blue-white flood of +electricity. A confused babble of noises fell upon his ears. He put +out his hand instinctively and clutched the arm of the man at his +side. + +"Yes ... yes..." the voice of his companion broke in, reassuringly. +"You're all right. In a moment ... after you've had coffee things +will..." + +He clutched again and presently, like a drowning man borne upon the +waves by a superior force, he felt himself guided through a maze of +confusing details, into swift and certain safety. + + * * * * * + +The coffee house into which Fred Starratt had been led by Storch was +choked with men and the thick odor of coffee and fried ham. To a man +who had eaten sparingly for days the smell of food was nauseating. +Storch ordered coffee for himself and a bowl of soup for Fred. This +last was a good choice in spite of the fact that for a moment Fred +felt instinctive rebellion. These pale, watery messes were too +suggestive of Fairview. But in the end the warm fluid dissipated his +weakness and he began to experience a normal hunger. + +Storch finished his cup of coffee and wiped a dark-brown ooze from his +upper lip with a paper napkin. + +"Better take a slice of bread or two," he advised Fred, "and then call +it quits. You'll feel better in the long run. A starved stomach +shouldn't be surprised with too much food." + +Fred obeyed. He could see that this man understood many things. + +Gradually the crowd thinned. Soon only Fred and Storch were left at +the particular table that they had chosen. Stragglers came and went, +but still Storch made no move to go, and Fred was equally inactive. He +felt warm and comfortably drowsy and, on the whole, quite content. The +waiter cleared away the empty dishes and then discreetly ignored them. +Fred fell to studying his reflection in the polished mirror running +the length of the room. He had to acknowledge that he looked savage, +with his hair long and untidy and a bristling, sunburnt beard +smothering his features. And suddenly, in the intensity of his +concentration, he felt a swooning sense of nonexistence, as if his +inner consciousness had detached itself someway from the egotism of +the flesh and stood apart, watching... He was recalled by Storch's +voice. He shuddered slightly and turned his face toward his +questioner. + +"I didn't hear what you said," escaped him. + +Storch leaned forward. "I was asking what you were doing ... up north +in the mountains during December. Only a desperate man or a fool would +take a chance like that... And I can see you're not a fool... There +aren't any prisons up that way that I know of." + +"_Prisons_! What do you mean?" + +"You've escaped from somewhere." + +"How do you know?" + +"You're still furtive in spite of your pretended calm. I know the +look. I know the feeling. I've seen scores of men who have been +through the mill. I've been through the mill myself. Not once, but +several times. I've been in nearly every jail in the country worth +putting up at... Even the Federal prisons haven't been proof against +me. I've beat them all. It's a game I like to play. Just as one man +plunges into stocks, or another breaks strikes, or another leads a +howling mob to victory... Every man has his game. What's yours?" + +Fred shrugged. "Why are you telling me all this?" he countered. "You +don't know me." + +Storch laughed, showing his greenish teeth again. "What difference +does that make?... I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I think +I've got you right. You might play a rough game, but it would be +square--according to your standards... I question most standards, but +that is neither here nor there. They shackle some people +extraordinarily. Just now you're drifting about without any. But +you'll tie to some sort of anchor pretty soon... That's why you +interest me. I want to get you while you're still drifting." + +Fred felt a sudden chill. He was suspicious of this ironically genial +man opposite him who bought him food and then prodded for his secret. +There was something diabolical about the way he calmly admitted an +impersonal but curiously definite interest. + +"What is your business, anyway?" Fred shot out, suddenly. + +"I'm a fisher for men," he replied, cryptically. "Some people build up +... others destroy. There must be always those who clear the +ground--the wreckers, in other words... There's too much attention +paid to building. Folks are in such a hurry they go about rearing all +kinds of crazy structures on rotten foundations... I'm looking for +some human dynamite to make a good job." + +Fred drew back. "You've got me wrong," he said. "I'm not a radical." + +"Not yet, of course. Your kind take a lot of punishment before they +see the light. But you're a good prospect--a damned good prospect. +You're a good deal like a young fellow I met last fall when I was +working over in the shipyards in Oakland. He--" + +"Shipyards?" interrupted Fred. "Not Hilmer's shipyards, by any +chance?" + +Storch leaned forward, drawing his shaggy eyebrows together. "Why?" + +"I know Hilmer, that's all." + +Storch continued his searching scrutiny. Fred felt uneasy--it seemed +as if this man opposite him was drawing the innermost secret of his +soul to the surface. Finally Storch rubbed his hands together with an +air of satisfaction as he said: + +"So you know Hilmer!... That makes you all the more interesting... +Well, well, let's be moving. I'll put you up for the night. I've got a +shelter, such as it is." + +Fred rose. He had an impulse to refuse. There was something uncanny +about the power of Storch. He was at once fascinating and repulsive. +But, on second thought, any shelter was better than a night spent on +the streets. He had had two months of buffeting and he was ready for +even an indifferent comfort. + +He ended by going with his new-found friend. They trotted south along +the Embarcadero, hugging the shadows close. This street, once noisy +with a coarse, guzzling gayety, was silent. A few disconsolate men +hung about the emasculated bars trying to rouse their sluggish spirits +on colicky draughts of near beer and grape juice, but the effect was +dismal and forbidding. Fred felt a great depression overwhelm him. + +He had grown accustomed to the silence of the open spaces, but this +silence of the city had a portentous quality which frightened him. It +reminded him of that ominous quiet that had settled down on Fairview +after that heartbreaking celebration on Christmas Eve. What were men +doing with their idle moments? How were they escaping from the drab +to-day? Did the crowded lobbies of the sailors' lodging houses spell +the final word in the bleak entertainment that intolerance had left +them? Upon one of the street corners a Salvation Army lassie harangued +an indifferent handful. But there seemed nothing now from which to +save these men except monotony, and religion of the fife-and-drum +order was offering only a very dreary escape. Did the moral values of +negative virtue make men any more admirable? he found himself +wondering. + +Storch led the way in silence. Finally they turned up toward the +slopes of Rincon Hill. A cluster of shacks, clinging crazily to the +tawny banks, loomed ahead in the darkness. Storch clambered along a +beaten trail and presently he leaped toward the broader confines of a +street which opened its arms abruptly to receive them. Fred followed. +The thoroughfare upon which he found himself standing was little more +than a lane, hedged on either side by crazy structures that nearly all +had sprung to rambling life from one-roomed refugee shacks which had +dotted the city after the fire and earthquake. Most of them were vine +clad and brightened with beds of scarlet geraniums, but the house +before which Storch halted rose uncompromisingly from the sun-baked +ground without the charity of a covering. Storch turned the key and +threw the door open, motioning Fred to enter. Fred did as he was +bidden and found himself in a cluttered room, showing harshly in the +light streaming in from a near-by street lamp. The air was foul with +stale tobacco, refuse, and imprisoned odors of innumerable greasy +meals and the sweaty apparel of men who work with their hands. + +Storch lighted a lamp. A tumble-down couch stood against the wall, and +in an opposite corner a heap of tattered quilts had been flung +disdainfully. Tables and chairs and even the floor were piled with +papers and cheaply covered books and tattered magazines. + +Storch pointed to the couch. "You sleep there to-night. I'll roll up +on the floor." + +It never occurred to Fred to protest. The two began to shed their +outer garments. Fred crawled in between the musty quilts. Storch blew +out the lamp, and Fred saw him move toward the quilts in the corner. +Without bothering to straighten them out he flung himself down and +pulled a covering over him. The light from the street lamp continued +to flood the room. Presently Fred heard Storch chuckling. + +"So you know Hilmer!" he was repeating again, making a sound of +satisfaction, as one does over a succulent morsel. "Well ... well ... +fancy how things turn out!" + +Fred made no reply, and after a time a gentle snoring told that Storch +had fallen asleep. + +Fred tossed about, oppressed by the close air. But, in the end, even +he fell into a series of fitful dozes. He dreamed the room in which he +was sleeping was suddenly transformed into a huge spider web from +which there was no escape. And he caught glimpses of Storch himself +hanging spider-wise from a gossamer thread, spinning dizzily in +midair... He awoke repeatedly, returning as often to the same dream. +Toward morning he heard a faint stirring about. But he lay huddled in +a pretense of sleep... Finally the door banged and he knew that Storch +had left... He let out a profound sigh and turned his face from the +light... + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +When Fred Starratt awoke a noonday sun was flooding in at the single +window. Consciousness brought no confusion ... he was beginning to +grow accustomed to sudden shifts in fortune and strange environments +had long since ceased to be a waking novelty. Outside he could hear +the genial noises of a thickly populated lane--shrilly cried bits of +neighborhood gossip bandied from doorstep to doorstep ... the laughter +of children ... the call of a junkman ... even a smothered cackling +from some captive hen fulfilling its joyful function in spite of +restraint. He did not rise at once, but he lay there thinking, trying +to force the realization that he was again in San Francisco... He +wondered dimly at the power of the homing instinct that had driven him +back. It was plain to him now that almost any other environment would +have been materially better. He had had the whole state of California +to choose from, indeed he might have flown even farther afield. But +from the very beginning his feet had turned homeward with uncanny +precision. On those first days and nights when he had lain huddled in +any uncertain shelter that came to hand the one thought that had +goaded him on was the promise of this return. + +And those first hours of freedom had been at once the sweetest and the +bitterest. Wet to the skin, starved, furtive, like a lean, dog-harried +coyote he had achieved the mountains and safety more dead than alive. +Looking back, he could see that only the sheerest madness had tempted +him to flight in the first place. Without an ounce of provisions, +without blankets, at the start lacking even a hat, he had defied the +elements and won. God was indeed tender with all fools and madmen! + +He knew now that under ordinary circumstances he must have perished in +the mountain passes. But the weather had been warm there all during +December and more rain than snow had fallen, keeping the beaten paths +reasonably open... He had thought always of these snow-pent places as +quite devoid of any life at the winter season, and he was amazed to +find how many human beings burrowed in and hibernated during the +storm-bound months. Elsewhere, the skulking traveler received a chary +welcome, but in the silent fastness of the hills latchstring and +hearthstone and tobacco store were for genial sharing. In almost any +one of these log shelters that he chanced upon he might have settled +himself in content and found an indefinite welcome, but the urge to be +up and on sent him forward to the next rude threshold. Thus mountain +cabin succeeded mountain cabin until, presently, one day Fred Starratt +found himself swinging down to the plains again--to the broad-bosomed +valleys lying parched and expectant under the cruel spell of drought. +Now people regarded him suspiciously, dogs snapped at his heels, and +farmers' women thrust him doles of food through half-opened kitchen +doors. Here and there he picked up a stray job or two. But he was +plainly inefficient for most tasks assigned him... In the small towns +there were not enough jobs to go round ... young men were returning +from overseas and dislodging the incompetents who had achieved +prosperity because of the labor shortage. The inland cities were in +the grip of strikes ... there were plenty of jobs, but few with the +temerity to attempt to fill them. And, besides, what had Fred Starratt +to offer in the way either of skill or brawn?... He grew to know the +meaning of impotence. No, he was a creature of the paved streets, and +to the paved streets he returned as swiftly as his feet and his +indifferent fortune could carry him. Besides, he had grown hungry for +familiar sights and faces, and perhaps, down deep, curiosity had been +the mainspring of his return. Even bitter ties have a pull that cannot +always be denied. At Fairview the presence of Monet had held him +almost a willing captive. There was something about the flame burning +in that almost frail body that had lighted even the ugliness of +Fairview with a strange beauty. He could not think of him as dead. +That last moment had been too tinged with the haunting poetry of life. +How often he had reconstructed that scene--the gray, sullen rain +pattering on the spent leaves, the quick-rushing sound of a body in +flight, the sudden leap of a soul toward greater freedom! And then the +vision of the churning pool below closing in triumphantly as it might +have done upon some reclaimed pagan creature that had tasted the +bitter wine of exile and returned in leaping joy to its chosen +element! It was not the shock and sadness of death that had sent Fred +Starratt for a moment stark mad into the storm and freedom, but rather +an ecstasy of loneliness ... a yearning to match daring with daring. + +And now he was home again, in his own gray-green city, lying beneath +tattered quilts in a hovel, with the selfsame February sun that had +once pricked him to a spiritual adventure flooding in upon him! He +rose and threw open the door. The soft noontide air floated in, +displacing the fetid atmosphere. He looked about the room searchingly. +In the daylight it seemed even more unkempt, but less forbidding. A +two-burner kerosene stove stood upon an empty box just under the +window. On another upturned box at its side lay a few odds and ends of +cooking utensils, shriveling bits of food, a plate or two. He found a +loaf of dry bread and cut a slice from it. This, together with a glass +of water, completed his breakfast. + +He tried to brush his weather-beaten clothes into decency with a stump +of a whisk broom and to wipe the dust of the highroad from his almost +spent shoes. But, somehow, these feeble attempts at gentility seemed +to increase his forlorn appearance. + +He went over and straightened out the bedcoverings. At least he would +leave the couch in some semblance of order. What did Storch expect him +to do? Come back again for shelter? He had no plans, but as he went +out, banging the door, he felt no wish to return. + +His first thought now was to see Ginger. He went to the Turk Street +address. He found a huge frame mansion of the 'eighties converted into +cheap lodgings. The landlady, wearing large jet and gold ornaments, +eyed him suspiciously. Miss Molineaux no longer lived there. Her +present address? She had left none. Thus dismissed, he turned his +steps toward the Hilmers'. + +He had expected to come upon the vision of his wife wheeling Mrs. +Hilmer up and down the sidewalk, and yet, when these expectations were +realized, he experienced a shock. There she was, Helen Starratt, in a +black dress and a black hat, pacing with drab patience the full length +of the block and back again. He could not get a good view of her face +because her hat shaded her eyes. Mrs. Hilmer's figure, equally +indistinct, was a shapeless mass of humanity. A child, coming out of a +nearby house with a pair of roller skates in her hand, stood off and +answered his questions, at first reluctantly, but finally with the +importance of encouraged childhood... Who was the lady in the wheeled +chair? Mrs. Hilmer. And the other one in black? Her name was Starratt. +No, she didn't know her very well. But people said she was very sad. +She dressed in black and looked unhappy. Why? Because her husband was +dead. No, there was no mistake--she had heard her mother say so many +times--Mrs. Starratt's husband was dead, quite dead!... + +He turned back toward town. _Dead, quite dead_! Well, the child had +reckoned better than she knew! + +He retraced his steps slowly, resting upon many hospitable doorsteps +that afternoon. The noise of the city confused him, the stone +pavements hurt his ankles, he was hungry and faint. He did not know +what to do or where to go. Only one shelter lay open to him. Should he +go back to Storch? + +Finally, toward five o'clock, he found himself standing upon the +corner of California and Montgomery streets, watching the tide of +office workers flooding homeward. A truant animation was flaming them +briefly. Familiar face after familiar face passed, lighted with the +joy of sudden release from servitude. Fred Starratt was curiously +unmoved. He had fancied that he would feel a great yearning toward all +this well-ordered sanity. He had fancied that he would be overwhelmed +with memories, with regrets, with futile tears. But he knew now that +even if it were possible to re-enter the world in which he had once +moved he would refuse scornfully. Was it always so with those who +achieved death? Ah yes, death was the great progression, one never +re-entered the circle of life one quitted. Dead, quite dead! Or, as +Storch put it, "A field freshly broken to the plow!" A field awaiting +the eternal upspringing and the inevitable harvest... And so on, again +and again, to the end of time! + +He came out of his musings with a renewed sense of faintness and the +realization that the street was rapidly being emptied of its throng. A +few stragglers hurried toward the ferry. He roused himself. A +green-gold light was enlivening the west and giving a ghostly +unreality to the street lamps twinkling in a premature blossoming. + +He was turning to go when he saw a familiar figure coming up the +street. He looked twice to assure himself that he was not mistaken. It +was Brauer! + +He stood a moment longer, roused to indifferent curiosity, but, as +Brauer brushed close, a sudden malevolent hatred shook him. He squared +himself and said in a hoarse tone: + +"I'm starving... I want money ... to eat!" Brauer turned a face of +amazed and insolent incredulity toward Fred. + +"Well, you won't get it from me!" he flung back. + +Fred Starratt grasped Brauer's puny wrist in a ferocious grip. + +"Oh yes, I will... Do you know who I am?" + +"You? ... No... Let me go; you're hurting me!" + +"Look at me closely!" + +"I tell you I don't know you. Are you crazy?" + +"Perhaps... I've been in an insane asylum... Now do you know who I +am?" + +Brauer fell back. "No," he breathed: "it can't be possible! Fred +Starratt is dead." + +Fred began to laugh. "You're right. But I want something to eat just +the same. You're going to take me into Hjul's ... and buy me a meal. +... And after I've eaten perhaps you'll hear how I died and who killed +me." + +He could feel Brauer trembling in his grasp. A rising cruelty +overwhelmed him. He flung Brauer from him with a gesture of contempt. + +"Are we going to eat?" he asked, coldly. + +"Yes ... whatever you say." + +Fred nodded and together the two drifted down Montgomery Street. + +Sitting over a generous platter of pot roast and spaghetti at Hjul's, +with Brauer's pallid face staring up at him, Fred Starratt had the +realization that there was at least one mouselike human to whom he +could play the role of cat. + +Brauer did not need to be prodded to speech. He told everything with +the eagerness of a child caught in a fault and seeking to curry the +favor of his questioner. He and Kendricks were placing all the Hilmer +insurance. Yes, they were rebating--that went without saying. And what +else lay at the bottom of Hilmer's generosity? Fred Starratt put the +question insinuatingly. Ah yes, the little matter of standing by when +Starratt had been sent to Fairview. No, Hilmer had made no demand, but +he had advised Brauer to be firm--through his lawyer, of course ... a +hint, nothing more--that some sort of example should be made of men +who... +Yes, that was just as it had happened. + +"And you knew where they were sending me?" Fred was moved to demand, +harshly. + +"Well ... yes... But Hilmer's lawyer put it so convincingly... +Everything was to be for the best." + +"Including your share in the Hilmer business?" + +Brauer had the grace to wince. "Well, there was nothing said +absolutely." + +"And what did you figure was Hilmer's reason for ... well, wanting me +to summer at Fairview?" + +Brauer toyed with a spoon. "There could only be one reason." + +"Don't be afraid. You mean that my wife..." + +"Yes ... just that!" + +Fred Starratt had a sense that he should have been stirred to anger, +but instead a great pity swept him, pity for a human being who could +sell another so shamelessly and not have the grace to deny it. Yes, he +realized now that there were times when a lie was the most +self-respecting and admirable thing in the world. + +"It appears that I am dead also. I saw my wife to-day mourning for me +in the most respectable of weeds." + +"Your hat, you see--it was found in the water ... not far from the +dead body of your friend... Naturally..." + +"Yes, naturally, the wish was father to the thought. Just so!" + +And with that Fred Starratt laughed so unpleasantly that Brauer +shivered and his face reddened. + +By this time Fred Starratt had finished eating. Brauer paid the check +and the two departed. At the first street corner Brauer attempted to +slip a five-dollar bill into Starratt's hand. He refused scornfully. + +"Money? I don't want your money. There is only one thing that will buy +my good will--_your silence_. Do you understand what I mean? ... I'm +not the same man you tricked last July. Then I thought I had +everything to lose. Now I know that no one ever loses anything... You +don't understand me, do you? ... Oh, well, it doesn't matter." + +Brauer's frightened lips scarcely moved as he asked: + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Anywhere I can find a shelter... Last night I spent with an +anarchist... I think he'd blow up almost anyone for just the sheer joy +of it." + +Brauer shuddered. "Where will you spend to-night?" + +"I think I'll go back to the same place... This morning I was +undecided. But I've heard a lot of things since then... I'm taking an +interest in life again... By the way, the man I'm staying with knows +Hilmer... And I don't think he likes him, either... I'll give you one +tip, Brauer. Never get an anarchist sore at you... _They_ haven't +anything to lose, either." + +He had never seen such pallor as that which shook the color from +Brauer's face. He decided not to torment him further. + +He had established a sense of the unfathomable for the present and +future terror of his trembling little ex-partner. His revenge, so far +as Brauer was concerned, was complete. He had not the slightest wish +to see Brauer again. + +He let his hands close once more tightly about Brauer's puny wrists. + +"Remember ... you have not seen me. Do you understand?" + +"Yes." + +"Not a living soul ... you are not to even suggest that ... otherwise +... well, I am living with an anarchist, and a word to the wise ..." + +He turned abruptly and left his companion standing on the street +corner, staring vacantly after him. + +Instinctively his footsteps found their way to Storch's shack. A light +was glimmering inside. Fred beat upon the door. It swung open quickly, +revealing Storch's greenish teeth bared in a wide smile of +satisfaction. + +"Come in ... come in!" Storch cried out gayly. "Have a good day?" + +"Excellent!" Fred snapped back, venomously. "I learned, among other +things, that I am legally dead." + +Storch rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "A clean slate! Do +you realize how wonderful it is, my man, to start fresh?" + +Fred threw himself into a chair. He felt tired. Sharp, darting pains +were stabbing his eyes. "I think I'm going to be ill!" he said, with +sudden irrelevance. + +Storch lighted the oil stove. "Crawl into bed and I'll get you +something hot to drink!" + +Storch's tone was kind to a point of softness, and yet, later, when he +bent over the couch with a steaming glass in his hand Fred experienced +a sharp revulsion. + +"I dreamed all last night," Fred said, almost defiantly, "that this +room was a cobweb and that you were a huge spider, dangling on a +thread." + +"And you were the fly, I suppose," Storch replied, sneeringly. + +The next instant he had touched Fred's forehead gently, almost +tenderly, but his eyes glittered beneath their shaggy brows with an +insane ferocity... Fred took the glass. He was too ill to care much +one way or the other. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Next morning Fred Starratt knew that he was too ill to rise. Then +everything became hazy. He had moments of consciousness when he sensed +Storch's figure moving in a sort of mist, flashing a green smile +through the gloom. He saw other figures, too---Helen Starratt, swathed +in clinging black; Hilmer, displaying his mangled thumb; Monet with +eyes of gentle reproach; and Ginger, very vague and very wistful. +There were times when the room seemed crowded with strange people who +came and went and gesticulated, people gathering close to the dim lamp +which Storch lighted at nightfall. + +The visions of Monet were a curious mixture of shadow and reality. +Sometimes he seemed very elusive, but, again, his face would grow +clear to the point of dazzling brightness. At such moments Fred would +screen his eyes and turn away, only in the end to catch a melting +glimpse of Monet fading gradually with a gesture of resignation and +regret. But slowly the outlines of Monet grew less and less tangible +and the personality of Storch more and more shot through with +warm-breathed vitality, and the strange company that gathered at dusk +about the lamp became living things instead of shadows. Yet it took +him some time to realize that these nightly gatherings at Storch's +were composed of real flesh and blood. + +At first he was content to lie in a drowse and listen to the +incoherent babblings of these nocturnal visitors, but, as he grew +stronger, detached bits of conversation began to impress themselves +upon him. These people had each some pet grievance and it remained for +Storch to pick upon the strings of their discontents with unerring +accuracy. At about eight o'clock every night the first stragglers +would drift in, reinforced by a steady stream, until midnight saw a +room stuffed with sweating humanity releasing their emotions in a +biting flood of protests. They protested at everything under the +sun--at custom, at order, at work, at play, at love, at life itself. +And Storch, for the most part silent, would sit with folded arms, +puffing at his pipe, a suggestion of genial malice on his face, +throwing out a phrase here and there that set the pack about him +leaping like hungry dogs to the lure of food. In confused moments Fred +Starratt fell to wondering whether he really had escaped from +Fairview, whether the forms about him were not the same motley +assembly that used to gather in the open and exchange whines. The +wails now seemed keyed to howls of defiance, but the source was +essentially the same. + +Fred wondered how he lived through these dreadful evenings with the +air thick to choking. Indeed, he used to wonder what had saved him +from death at any stage of the game. Storch had permitted him the use +of a maggoty couch, had shared scraps of indifferent food at irregular +intervals, and set a cracked pitcher of water within reach. But beyond +that, he had been ignored. The nightly assembly did not even cast +their glances his way. + +During the day Fred was left alone for the most part, and he felt a +certain luxury in this personal solitude after the months at Fairview +with its unescapable human contacts. He would lie there, his ears +still ringing with the echoes from the nightly gathering of +malcontents, trying to reconstruct his own quarrel with life. He had a +feeling that he would remain a silent onlooker only until Storch +decreed otherwise. If he stayed long enough the night would come when +Storch would call upon him for a testimonial of hatred. He knew that +deep down somewhere within him rancors were stirring to sinister life. +He had experienced the first glimmerings of cruelty in that moment +when he had felt Brauer tremble under his grasp. What would have been +his reaction to physical fear on Helen Starratt's part? Suppose on +that afternoon when he had watched her wheeling Mrs. Hilmer up and +down with deceitful patience he had gone over and struck her the blow +which was primitively her portion? Would the sight of her whimpering +fear have stirred him to further elemental cruelties? Would he have +ended by killing her? ... Physically weak as he was, he could still +feel the thrill of cruelty that had shaken him at the realization of +Brauer's dismay. As a child, when a truant gust of deviltry had swept +him, he had felt the same satisfaction in pummeling a comrade who +backed away from friendly cuffs turned instantly to blows of malice. +Even now he had occasionally a desire to seek out Brauer again and +worry him further. He was fearing indifference. What if, after all +that he had suffered at the hands of others, he should find himself in +the pale clutch of an impotent indifference? He felt a certain shame +back of the possibility, and at such moments the words of Storch used +to ring in his ears: + +"Wounds heal so quickly ... so disgustingly quickly!" + +And again, watching Storch at night, touching the quivering cords +which might otherwise have rusted in inactive silence, he remembered +further the introduction to this contemptuous phrase: + +"I like to get my recruits when they're bleeding raw. I like them when +the salt of truth can sting deep..." + +How Storch lived Fred could only guess. But he managed always to +jingle a silver coin or two and keep a crust of bread in the house. +His fare was frugal to the point of being ascetic. Once or twice, as +if moved by Fred's physical weakness, he brought some scraps of beef +home and brewed a few cups of steaming bouillon, and again, one Sunday +morning he went out and bought a half dozen eggs which he converted +into an impossibly tough omelet. But for the most part he lived on +coffee and fresh French bread and cheese. It was on this incredible +fare that Fred Starratt won back his strength. His exhaustion was an +exhaustion of the spirit, and food seemed to have little part in +either his disorder or his recovery. + +Whatever Storch's specific grievance with life, he never voiced it and +in this he won Fred's admiration. He liked to jangle the discordant +passions of others, but his own he muffled into complete silence. He +had worked at almost every known calling. It seemed that he came and +disappeared always as suddenly and in his wake a furrow of men +harrowed to supreme unrest yielded up a harvest sown of dragon's +teeth. He was an idea made flesh, patient, relentless, almost +intangible. He flashed upon new horizons like a cloud from the south +and he vanished as completely once he had revived hatred with his +insinuating showers. He was, as he had said on that first meeting with +Fred, a fanatic, a high priest. He called many, but he chose few. + +One night after the others had left Fred said to him: + +"Do you realize what you are doing? ... You are working up these men +to a frenzy. Some morning we shall wake to find murder done." + +"How quickly you are learning," Storch answered, flinging his coat +aside. + +"Are you fair?" Fred went on, passionately. "If you have your +convictions, why not risk your own hide to prove them? Why make +cats'-paws of the others?" + +Storch took out his pipe and lighted it deliberately. "Prospective +martyrs are as plentiful as fish in a net," he answered. "Of what good +is the sea's yield without fishermen? ... I sacrifice myself and who +takes my place? Will you?" + +Fred turned on him suddenly. "You are not training me to be your +successor, I hope," he said, with a slight sneer. "Because I lie here +without protest is no reason that I approve. Indeed, I wonder +sometimes if I do quite right to permit all this... There are +authorities, you know." + +Storch looked at him steadily. "The door is open, my friend." + +Fred gave a little gesture of resignation. + +"You know perfectly well that I'm not built to betray the man who +gives me shelter." + +"Oh, I'm not sheltering you for love!" + +"You have some purpose, of course. I understand that. But you're +wasting time." + +"Well, I'll risk it... I know well enough you're not a man easily won +to an abstract hatred... But a personal hatred very often serves as +good a turn... Everything is grist to my mill." + +"A personal hatred?" echoed Fred. + +Storch blew out the light. + +"You're duller than I thought," he called through the gloom. + +Fred turned his face away and tried to sleep. + +The next day he decided to crawl out of bed and begin to win back his +strength. He couldn't lie there forever sharing Storch's roof and +crust. But the effort left him exhausted and he was soon glad to fling +himself back upon the couch. + +Each succeeding day he felt a little stronger, until the time came +when he was able to drag himself to the open door and sit in the +sunshine. He had never thought much about sunshine in the old days. A +fine day had been something to be remarked, but scarcely hoarded. With +the steam radiator working, it had not mattered so much whether the +sun shone or not... He remembered the first time that a real sense of +the sun's beauty had struck him--on that morning which now seemed so +remote--when he had risen weakly from his cot at the detention +hospital and made ready for exile at Fairview. Less than a year ago! +How many things had assumed new values since then! Now, he could +exploit every sunbeam to its minutest warmth, he could wring +sustenance from a handful of crumbs, he knew what a cup of cold water +meant. He was on speaking terms with hunger, he had been comrade to +madness, he had looked upon sudden death, he was an outcast and, in a +sense, a criminal. He felt that he could almost say with Hilmer: + +"I know all the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact." + +All but murder--yet it had brushed close to him. Even now he could +evoke the choking rage that had engulfed him on that night of his +arrest when his defenseless cheek had reddened to the blow of +humiliation. This had been, however, a flash of passion. But once, +meeting a man who blocked his path in the first upper reaches of the +hills, beyond Fairview, he had felt the even more primitive itch of +self-preservation urging him to the ultimate crime. Would he end by +going a step farther and planning the destruction of life in cold +blood? + +It was curious how constant association with a sensational idea dulled +the edge of its novelty. The first time he had heard deliberate and +passionless murder all but plotted in Storch's huddled room he had +felt a quick heartbeat of instinctive protest. Had he been stronger at +that moment he would have leaped to his feet in opposition. But the +moment passed and when he heard the subject broached again he listened +curiously. Finally he ceased to feel the slightest tremor of revolt. +Was indifference always the first step toward surrender? + +Finally Fred grew strong enough to desert his couch at evening. Up to +this point he had been ignored by the nightly visitors, but now they +made a place for him in the circle about the sputtering lamp. It +seemed, also, that, with his active presence, the talk began to assume +general point and direction. Storch had been giving them plenty of +tether, but now he was beginning to pull up sharply, putting their +windy theories to the test. They were for clearing the ground, were +they? Well, so far so good. But generalities led nowhere. Why not +something specific? Wasn't the time ripe for action--thousands of men, +walking the streets, locked out because they dared to demand a decent +and even break? And this in the face of all the altruistic +rumble-bumble which war had evoked? He played this theme over and over +again, and finally one night with an almost casual air he said: + +"Take the shipyards, for instance ... forty-odd thousand men locked +out while the owners lay plans to shackle them further. Now is the +chance. Quit talking and get busy!" + +It ended in a list being made of the chief offenders--owners, +managers, irascible foremen. Fred Starratt listened like a man in a +dream. When Hilmer was named he found himself shivering. These people +were plotting murder now--cool, calm, passionless murder! There was +something fascinating in the very nonchalance of it. + +Storch's eyes glittered more and more savagely. He drew up plans, +arranged incredible details, delivered specific offenders into the +hands of certain of his henchmen. + +"You are responsible for this man, now," he used to fling at the +chosen one. "How or where or when does not interest me--but get him, +you understand, _get him_!" + +One night a member said, significantly: + +"Everybody's been picked but Hilmer... What's the matter, Storch, are +you saving that plum for yourself?" + +Storch rubbed his hands together, flashing a look at Fred. + +"No... There's an option on Hilmer!" he cried, gleefully. + +Fred tried to ignore the implication, but all night the suggestion +burned itself into his brain. So some one was to get Hilmer, after +all! Well, why not? Hilmer liked men with guts enough to fight--rabbit +drives were not to his taste... Among all the names brought up and +discussed at these sinister gatherings about Storch's round table +Hilmer's stood out as the ultimate prize. No one spoke a good word for +him and yet Fred had to admit that the revilings were flavored with a +certain grudging respect. He was an open and consistent tyrant, at any +rate. + +An option on Hilmer! What a trick Storch had for illuminating phrases! +... And his divinations were uncanny. Why should he assume that Hilmer +was in any way bound up in Fred Starratt's life? + +The next morning Fred decided to chance a walk in the open. He had a +vague wish to try his wings again, now that he had grown stronger. The +situation reminded him remotely of Fairview on those first days when +Monet and he had attempted to harden their muscles against the day of +escape. But this time he was struggling to free himself from a +personality, from an idea. He must leave Storch and his motley brood +as soon as possible; somehow the acid of their ruthless philosophy was +eating away the remnants of any inner beauty which had been left him. +At first he had been all revolt, but now there were swift moments in +which he asked himself what quarrel he could have with any blows +struck at authority. What had established order done for him? Acted as +a screen for villainy and inconstancy for the most part. + +He turned all this over in his mind as he slunk furtively along the +water front, trying vaguely to shape a plan of action. He felt himself +to be a very unusual and almost terrible figure, and yet no one paid +any heed to him. His beard had lost its sunburned character and grown +jet black, his face, and particularly his hands, were pale to +transparence, his eyes burned too brightly in their sunken sockets. He +was not even a ghost of his former self, but rather a sinister +reincarnation. He felt that he was even more forbidding than on that +night when he had sent Brauer shivering from his presence. He doubted +whether Brauer would recognize him again, so subtle and marked was the +change. He hardly recognized himself, and the transformation was not +solely a matter of physical degeneration. No, there was something +indefinable in the quality of his decline. + +He fluttered about the town, at first aimlessly, like a defenseless +fledgling thrust before its time from the nest. He was weak and +tremulous and utterly miserable. Yet he felt compelled to go forward. +He must escape from Storch! _He must_! + +The docks, usually full of bustle, were silent and almost deserted. +Fred questioned a man loafing upon a pile of lumber. It appeared that +a strike of stevedores was the cause of this outward sign of +inactivity. Boats were being loaded quietly, but the process was +furtive and sullen. Occasionally, out of the wide expanse of brooding +indolence a knot of men would gather flockwise, and melt as quickly. +There was an ominous quality in the swiftness with which these +cloudlike groups congealed and disintegrated. The sinister blight of +repression was over everything--repressed desires, repressed joys, +repressed hatreds. It was almost as sad as the noonday silence of +Fairview. + +Fred slunk along in deep dejection. He wanted the color and life and +bustle of accomplishment. A slight activity before one of the docks +beguiled him from his depression. A passenger steamer was preparing +for its appointed flight south and a knot of blue-coated policemen +maintained a safe path from curb to dock entrance. Here was a touch of +liveliness and gayety--the released laughter of people bent on a +holiday, hopeful farewells called out heartily, taxicabs dashing up +with exaggerated haste. He was warming himself at the flame of this +genial pageant, when an opulent machine came rolling up to the curb. A +sudden surge of arrivals had pressed into service every available +porter, and the alighting occupants, a man and a woman, stood waiting +for some one to help them with their luggage. Fred stared with +impersonal curiosity. Then, as instinctively, he fell back. The man +was Axel Hilmer and the woman was Helen Starratt! His shrinking +movement must have singled him out for attention, because a policeman +began to hustle him on, and the next instant he was conscious that +Hilmer was calling in his voice of assured authority: + +"Here, there, don't send that man away! I need some one to help me +with these grips. This lady has got to catch the boat!" + +The officer touched his hat respectfully and Fred felt himself gently +impelled toward Helen Starratt. He did not have time to protest nor +shape any plan of action. Instead, he answered Hilmer's imperious +pantomime by grasping a suitcase in one hand and a valise in the other +and staggering after them toward the waiting vessel. + +They had arrived not a moment too soon; already the steamer was +preparing to cast off. In the confusion which followed, Fred had very +little sense of what was happening. He knew that a porter had relieved +him of his burden and that Helen Starratt had pressed a silver coin +into his hand. There was a scramble up the gangplank, a warning +whistle, a chorus of farewell, and then silence... He had a +realization that he had all but fainted--he looked up to find Hilmer +at his side. + +"What's the matter?" Hilmer was asking, brusquely. "Are you sick?" + +He roused himself with a mighty effort. + +"Yes." + +"You look half starved, too... Why don't you go to work? Or are you +one of those damned strikers?" + +"No," he heard himself answer. "I'm just a man who's ... who's up +against it." + +Hilmer took out a card and scribbled on it. + +"Here, look up my superintendent at the yard to-morrow. He'll give you +a job. There's plenty of work for those who want it. But don't lose +that card ... otherwise they won't let you see him." + +Fred took the proffered pasteboard and as he did so his fingers closed +over Hilmer's mangled thumb. He could feel himself trembling from head +to foot... He waited until Hilmer was gone. Then he crawled slowly in +the direction of the street again. Midway he felt some force impelling +him to a backward glance. He turned about--a green smile betrayed +Storch's sinister presence; Fred felt him swing close and whisper, +triumphantly: + +"That was your wife, wasn't it?" + +"How do you know?" + +"Never mind. Answer me--it was your wife?" + +"Yes." + +"How much did she give you?" + +Fred looked down at the coin in his hand. + +"Fifty cents." + +"Fifty cents ... for carrying two grips a hundred yards... Well, she +must have money... And she's taking a little trip south--for her +health, I suppose!... I wonder when friend Hilmer will follow?" + +Fred tried to draw away, but Storch's insinuating clutch was too firm. + +"Let me go!" he half begged and half commanded. "What business is all +this of yours?... Who has told you all this about me?" + +Storch continued to hang upon Fred's arm. "You told me yourself." + +"I told you? When?" + +"You were delirious for a good week... Don't you suppose you babbled +then?" + +"How much do you know?" + +"Nearly everything, _Fred Starratt_! Nearly everything." + +"Even my name!" + +"Yes, even that." + +Fred stood still for a moment and he closed both his eyes. + +"Let's go home!" he said, hopelessly. + +He heard Storch's malevolent chuckle answering him. + +When they arrived at Storch's shack Fred was exhausted. He threw +himself at once upon the couch, drawing the tattered quilts over his +head, and thus he lay all night in a semistupor. He heard the nightly +gathering drift in, and there were times when its babble reached him +in vague faraway echoes. He sensed its departure, too, and the fact +that Storch was flinging himself upon the pile of rags which served as +his bed. His sleep was broken by a harried idea that he was attempting +to catch a steamer which forever eluded him, trotting aimlessly up and +down a gangplank which led nowhere, picking up a litter that spilled +continually from a suitcase in his hand. It was not a dreaming state, +but the projection of the main events of the preceding day distorted +by fancy. + +Toward morning he fell into a heavy sleep. He did not hear Storch +leave. He woke at intervals during the day and relapsed into delicious +dozes. It was evening when he finally roused himself. He rose. He felt +extraordinarily refreshed, stronger, in fact, than he had been for +weeks. Storch came in shortly after. He had his inevitable loaf of +crisp French bread and a slice of cheese and in his hip pocket he had +smuggled a pint bottle of thin red wine. + +Fred laid the table with the simple utensils that such a meal required +and the two sat down. Storch poured out two glasses of wine. + +"I have had great fun to-day!" Storch said, gulping his claret with a +flourish. "They're on my track again. You should have seen how easily +I gave them the slip! As a matter of fact there is nothing duller than +a detective. He usually has learned every formula laid down for the +conduct of criminals and if you don't run true to form he gets sore." + +"You mean you're being watched--shadowed?" + +"Just that." + +"What do you intend to do?" + +Storch shrugged. "Being arrested and jailed is losing its novelty. +I'll stick around awhile longer until a pet job or two is +accomplished... I'm particularly anxious to see Hilmer winged... +What's your plan?" + +"Plan?... I have no plan. I can't imagine what you're talking about. I +know one thing, though ... I'm going to leave this place at once." + +Storch smiled evilly. "Going to start plunging on that capital your +wife threw your way yesterday?... Well, well, you've got more +initiative than I thought... But, one piece of advice, my friend--the +easiest way to walk into a trap is to suddenly try to change your +habits ... to rush headlong in an opposite direction. You'd better +stay here awhile and bluff it out. They'd gobble you in one mouthful." + +Fred made no reply. Indeed, the meal was finished in silence. + +Presently Storch's disciples began to drift in. The meeting lasted +almost until midnight. They were all at fever heat, strung tensely by +Storch's unerring pressure. At the last moment the man who had +previously put the question concerning Hilmer prodded Storch again. + +Storch fixed Fred suddenly with a gaze that pierced him through. A +silence fell upon the room. Fred could feel every eye turned his way. +He rose with a curious fluttering movement of escape. + +"There's one man in this room who has earned the honor of getting +Hilmer, if any man has," Storch said, finally, in an extraordinarily +cool and biting voice. "Losing a wife isn't of any great moment ... +but to be laughed at--that's another matter." + +The silence continued. Fred Starratt sat down again... Shortly after +this the gathering broke up. Storch went to sleep immediately. Fred +blew out the light. But he did not throw himself upon his couch this +time. Instead he opened the door softly and crept out. + +A bright moon was riding high in the sky. He went swiftly down the +lane and stood for a moment upon the edge of the cliff which plunged +down toward the docks. The city seemed like a frozen bit of +loveliness, waiting to be melted to fluid beauty by the fires of +morning. He must leave Storch at once, forever! He turned for a +backward glimpse of the house that had sheltered and almost entrapped +him. A figure darted in front of the lone street lamp and retreated +instantly. _Shadowed!_ Storch was right! + +Suddenly Fred began to whistle--gayly, loudly, with unquestionable +defiance. Then slowly, very slowly, he went back into the house and +closed the door... Storch was snoring contentedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The next afternoon Fred Starratt took the fifty-cent piece that he had +earned as flunky to his wife and spent every penny of it in a cheap +barber shop on the Embarcadero. He emerged with an indifferently +trimmed beard and his hair clipped into a semblance of neatness. He +felt better, in spite of his tattered suit and gaping footgear. +Hilmer's card was still in his pocket. + +His plans were hazy, nebulous, in fact. He was not quite sure as to +his next move. It seemed useless to attempt to flee from Storch's +shelter. He had no money and scarcely strength enough to tackle any +job that would be open to him. Even if he elected to become a strike +breaker he would have to qualify at least with brawn. The prospect of +snaring a berth from Hilmer had a certain fascination. It would be +interesting to stare defiantly at his enemy at close range, to speak +with him again man to man, to lure him into further bravados. And +then, if Storch's plans for Hilmer had any merits... He stopped short, +a bit frightened at the realization that the idea had presented itself +to him with such directness... He had a sudden yearning to talk to +some human being who would understand. If he could only see Ginger! + +He had a feeling that somehow she must have experienced every +exaltation and every degradation in the calendar. Tenderness and +passion and the gift of murder itself were ever the mixed language of +the street. He remembered the gesture he first had made to her almost +timid advances toward helping him. He had been outwardly polite, but +inwardly how scornful of her suggestions! And once he even had +hesitated to let her carry a message to his wife! Now he was ready to +stand or fall upon the bitter fruits of her experience. He felt, +curiously, on common ground with her. And yet there were certain +intangibilities he had never attempted to make positive. Somehow the +mere fact of her existence had enveloped him like warm currents of air +which he could feel, but not visualize. But at this moment he felt the +need of a contact more personal. Suddenly, out of a clear sky, it came +to him that Mrs. Hilmer could tell him something of Ginger's +whereabouts. Mrs. Hilmer? Well, why not? The more he thought the idea +over the more it appealed to him. He ended by turning his steps in the +direction of the Hilmer home. + +The maid who opened the door eyed him with more curiosity than +caution, and her protests that Mrs. Hilmer could see no one seemed +rather tentative and perfunctory. Fred had a curious feeling that she +was demanding a more or less conventional excuse for admitting him, +and in the end he flung out as a chance: + +"Tell Mrs. Hilmer I have a message from Sylvia Molineaux." + +The girl's pale-blue eyes sparkled with a curious glint of humor, and +without further protest she went away, and came back as swiftly with +an invitation for him to step inside. There was something +inexplainable about this maid who veiled her eagerness to admit him +with such transparencies. Even a fool would scarcely have left so +forbidding a character to dawdle about the living room while she went +to fetch her mistress. + +He had expected to find this room changed, and yet he was not prepared +for quite the quality of familiarity which it possessed. Most of the +old Hilmer knickknacks had been swept aside, their places taken by +bits that had once enlivened the Starratt household. Here was a silver +vase that he had bought Helen for an anniversary present, and there a +Whistler etching that had been their wedding portion. His easy-chair +was in a corner, and Helen's music rack filled with all the things she +used to play for his delight. And on the mantel, in a silver frame, +his picture, with a little bowl of fading flowers before it... He went +over and picked it up. Instinctively he glanced in the mirror just in +front of him... _Dead ... quite dead!_ No wonder his wife put flowers +before this photographic shrine... For a moment he had a swooning hope +that he had misjudged her ... that he had misread everybody ... that +they had done everything for him that they thought was best. But he +emerged from this brief deception with a shuddering laugh... He would +not have cared so much if his wife had swept him from her life +completely ... but to trample on him and still use his shadow as a +screen--this was too much! What really pallid creatures these women of +convention were! How little they were prepared to risk anything! He +could almost hear the comments that Helen inspired: + +"Poor Helen Starratt! She has had an awful time!... I don't know what +she would have done without the Hilmers... She's so devoted to Mrs. +Hilmer... I do think it's lovely that they can be together." + +He felt that he could have admired a Helen Starratt with the courage +of her primitive instincts. As it was, he was ashamed to own that he +experienced even rancor at her pretenses. + +He heard the sound of a wheeled chair coming toward the living room +and he made a pretense of staring aimlessly into the street. Presently +a sepulchral voice broke the silence. He turned--Mrs. Hilmer was +leaning forward in her chair, regarding him attentively, while the +maid stood a little to one side. He had expected to come upon a huddle +of blond plumpness, an inanimate mass of forceless flesh robbed of its +bovine suavity by inactivity. What he saw was a body thin to +emaciation and a face drawn into a tight-lipped discontent. The old +curves of flesh had melted, displaying the heaviness of the framework +which had supported them. The eyes were restless and glittering, the +once-plump hands shrunken into claws. + +"You ... you have a message from Sylvia Molineaux?" + +She tossed the question toward him with biting directness. Could it be +possible that this was the same woman who had purred so contentedly +over a receipt for corn pudding somewhat over a year ago? + +He moved a step nearer. "Yes ... but it is private." + +The maid made a slight grimace and put her hand protectingly upon Mrs. +Hilmer's chair. Mrs. Hilmer shifted about impatiently. + +"Never mind, Hilda," she snapped out. "I am not afraid." + +The maid shrugged and departed. + +"I have wanted to see her," Mrs. Hilmer went on, coldly. "But who +could I send? ... Few people understand her life." + +"Ah, then you have guessed?" + +"Guessed? ... She has told me everything." + +A shade of bitter malice crept into her face--the malice of a woman +who has learned truths and is no longer shocked by them. Fred Starratt +put his hat aside and he went up close to her. + +"I lied to get in here," he said, quickly. "I am looking for Sylvia +Molineaux myself." + +"Why don't you try the streets, then?" she flung out, venomously. + +He felt almost as if an insult had been hurled at _him_. He searched +Mrs. Hilmer's face. Something more than physical pain had harrowed the +woman before him to such deliberate mockery. + +"You, too!" he cried. "How you must have suffered!" + +She gave a little cackling laugh that made him shudder. "What about +yourself?" she queried. "You do not look like a happy man." + +"Would you be ... if ... Look at me closely, Mrs. Hilmer! Have you +ever seen me before?" + +He bent toward her. She took his face between her two clawlike +fingers. Her eyes were points of greedy flame. + +When she finally spoke her voice had almost a pensive quality to it. + +"You might have been Fred Starratt, _once_," she said, evenly. + +He rose to his feet. + +"I knew you were not dead," he heard her saying. "And I don't think +she felt sure, either... Ah, how I have worried her since that day! +Every morning I used to say: 'I dreamed of your husband last night. He +was swimming out of a black pool ... a very black pool.'" + +She chuckled at the memory of her sinister banter. So Helen Starratt +did not have everything her own way! There were weapons which even +weakness could flourish. + +"Where has she gone?" he asked, suddenly. + +"South, for a change... I've worried her sick with my black pool. +Whenever the doorbell would ring I would say as sweetly as I could, +'What if that should be your husband?' I drove her out with just +that... You've come just the right time to help. It couldn't have been +planned any better." + +She might have been Storch, masquerading in skirts, as she sat there +casting significantly narrow glances at him. He wondered why he had +come. He felt like a fly struggling from the moist depths of a cream +jug only to be thrust continually back by a ruthless force. Was +everybody bent on plunging him into the ultimate despair? He moved +back with a poignant gesture of escape. + +"You mustn't count on me, Mrs. Hilmer!" he cried, desperately. "I'm +nothing but a poor, spent man. I've lost the capacity for revenge." + +She smiled maliciously. "You see me here--helpless. And yet, in all +these months I've prayed for only one thing--to have strength enough +one day to rise in this chair and throw myself upon them both... Oh, +but I should like to kill them!... You talk about suffering ... but do +you know what it is to feel the caress of hands that are waiting to +lay hold of everything that was once yours?... I have six months more +to live. The doctor told me yesterday... Six months more, getting +weaker every day, until at last--" + +She brought her hands up in a vigorous flourish, which died pitifully. +He felt a contempt for his impotence. He dropped into a seat opposite +her. + + +"Tell me about it ... all ... from the beginning," he begged. + +She opened the floodgates cautiously at first ... going back to the +day when it had come upon her that she was a stranger in her own +house. ... Hilmer's moral lapses had never affronted her. She knew +men--or her father, to be exact, and his father before him. They were +as God made them, no better and no worse. Perhaps she had never +admitted it, but she would no doubt have felt a contempt for a man +without the capacity for truant inconstancies. But she had her place +from which it was inconceivable that she could be dislodged. ... On +that day when she had realized that this position was threatened she +had been put to one of two alternatives--open revolt or deceitful +acceptance. She had chosen the latter. In the end her choice was +justified, for she had begun to undermine Helen Starratt's content +with subtle purring which dripped a steady pool of disquiet. + +"She hasn't abandoned herself yet," she said, moving her claws +restlessly. "She's too clever for that... She wants _my_ place. +Hilmer's like all men--he won't have a mistress for a wife... And she +never would be any man's mistress while she saw a chance for the other +thing ... she's too--" + +She broke off suddenly, unable to find a word inclusive enough for all +the contempt she wished to crowd into it. He was learning things. She +could have ignored a frank courtesan with disdainful aloofness, but +discreetly veiled wantonness made her articulate. When she mentioned +Ginger her voice took a soft pity, mixed with certain condescension. +She was sympathetic, but there were still many things she could not +understand. + +"She used to come and pass me every morning," Mrs. Hilmer explained, +"and your wife would look at her from head to foot. One day I said, +'Who is that woman?' ... 'How should I know?' she answered me. And I +knew from her manner that she was lying. The next day I spoke +deliberately. After that it was easy... She is a strange girl. She +would come and read me such beautiful things and then go away to +_that_! ... 'How is it possible for one woman to be so good and so +bad?' I asked her once. And all she said was, 'How would you have +us--all devil or all saint?' ... During all this your wife said +nothing. When she _would_ see Sylvia Molineaux coming down the street +she would wheel my chair into a quiet corner and walk calmly into the +house... One day Sylvia Molineaux spoke of you. She told me the whole +story and in the end she said: 'I don't come here altogether to be +kind to you ... I come here to worry her. You cannot imagine how I +hate her!' The next morning I said to Helen Starratt, 'Did you know +that Sylvia Molineaux was a friend of your husband?' She had to answer +me civilly. There was no other way out. But after that I said, +whenever I could, 'Sylvia Molineaux tells me this,' or, 'Sylvia +Molineaux tells me that.' And I would give her the tattle of +Fairview... I know she could have strangled me, because she smiled too +sweetly. But she made no protest, no comment. She merely walked into +the house whenever Sylvia Molineaux appeared. But it worried her--yes, +almost as much as that black pool from which I had you swimming every +morning... And so it went on until the day after word had come that +you had been drowned. I had not seen Sylvia for some days. She came +down the street at the usual time. Helen was still up in her room ... +the maid had wheeled me out. She said nothing about what had happened. +But she looked very pale as she opened her book to read to me. In the +midst of all this your wife came out and stood for a moment upon the +landing. We looked up. She was in black. I gave one glance at Sylvia. +She closed her book with a bang and suddenly she was on her feet. +'Black! _Black_!' she cried out in a loud voice. 'How _can_ you!' Your +wife grew pale and walked quickly back into the house. Sylvia's face +was dreadful. 'I can't trust myself to come here again!' she said, +turning on me fiercely. 'Fancy, _she_ can wear black. The hussy ... +the...' No, I shall not repeat what else she said... But when she had +finished I caught her hand and I said: 'Come back and kill her! Come +back and kill her, Sylvia Molineaux!' She gave a cry and left me. I +have not seen her since." + +He sat staring at the wasted figure before him. Who would have +thought, seeing her in a happier day, that she could quiver with such +red-fanged energy! After all, she was more primitive even than Ginger. +She was like some limpid, prattling stream swollen to sudden fury by a +cloudburst of bitterness. + +He was recalled from his scrutiny of the terrible figure before him by +the sound of her voice, this time dropping into a monologue which held +a half-musing quality. Hilmer was puzzling her a bit. She could not +quite understand why a man accustomed to hew his way without restraint +should be possessing his soul in such patience before Helen Starratt's +provocative advances and discreet retreats. Either she was unable or +unwilling to fathom the fascination which a subtle game sometimes held +for a man schooled only in elemental approaches toward his goal. Was +he enthralled or confused or merely curious? And how long would he +continue to give his sufferance scope? How long would he pretend to +play the moth to Helen Starratt's fitful flamings? Mrs. Hilmer, +raising the question, answered it tentatively by a statement that held +a curious mixture of hope and fear. + +"Hilmer's going south himself next week... On business, he _says_." +She laughed harshly. "I wonder if they both think me quite a fool! ... +If he succeeds this time she's done for!" + +Fred Starratt stirred in his seat. + +"Don't deceive yourself," he found himself saying, coldly; "whatever +else my wife is, she's no fool... Remember, she wrote me a letter +every week. She looks over her cards before she plays them...A few +months more or less don't--" + +He broke off, suddenly amazed at his cruelty. Mrs. Hilmer's expression +changed from arrested exultation to fretful appeal. + +"I have only six months to live," she wailed. "If I could walk just +for a day...an hour...five minutes!" + +She covered her face in her hands. + +"What do you expect _me_ to do?" he asked, helplessly, with a certain +air of resignation. + +She took her fingers from her eyes. A crafty smile illumined her +features. "How should I know? ...What do men do in such cases?...She +will be gone two weeks. I pray God she may never enter this house +again. But that is in your hands." + +He felt suddenly cold all over, as if she had delivered an enemy into +his keeping. She still loved Axel Hilmer...loved him to the point of +hatred. What she wished for was his head upon a charger. With other +backgrounds and other circumstances crowding her to fury she would +have danced for her boon like the daughter of Herodias. As it was, she +sat like some pagan goddess, full of sinister silences, impotent, yet +unconquered. + +And again Storch's prophetic words swept him: + +"Like a field broken to the plow!" + +There was a terrible beauty in the phrase. Was sorrow the only +plowshare that turned the quiescent soul to bountiful harvest? Was it +better to reap a whirlwind than to see a shallow yield of unbroken +content wither to its sterile end? + + * * * * * + +He found Ginger's lodgings that night, in a questionable quarter of +the town, but she did not respond to his knock upon the door. + +"Why don't you try the streets, then?" Mrs. Hilmer's sneer recurred +with all its covert bitterness. + +The suggestion made him sick. And he had fancied all along that +ugliness had lost the power to move him ... that he was prepared for +the harsh facts of existence! + +He waited an hour upon the street corner, and when she came along +finally she was in the company of a man... He grew suddenly cold all +over. When they passed him he could almost hear his teeth chattering. +They disappeared, swallowed up in the sinister light of a beguiling +doorway. He stared for a moment stupidly, then turned and fled, +looking neither to the right nor to the left. He realized now that he +had reached the heights of bitterest ecstasy and the depths of +profound humiliation. + +Storch was alone, bending close to the lamp, reading, when Fred +Starratt broke in upon him. He did not lift his head. + +Fred went softly into a corner and sat down... Finally, after a while, +Storch laid his book aside. He gave one searching look at Fred's face. + +"Well, have you decided?" he asked, with calm directness. + +Fred's hands gave a flourish of resignation. "Yes... I'll do it!" he +answered in a whisper. + +Storch picked up his book again and went on reading. Presently he +lifted his eyes from the printed page as he said: + +"We won't have any more meetings here... Things are getting a little +too dangerous... How soon will the job be finished?" + +Fred rose, shaking himself. "Within two weeks, if it is finished at +all!" + +He went close to Storch and put a hand upon his shoulder. "You know +every bitter thing ... tell me, why does a man love?" + +Storch laughed unpleasantly. "To breed hatred!" + +Fred Starratt sat down again with a gesture of despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +From this moment on Fred Starratt's existence had the elements of a +sleepwalking dream. He felt himself going through motions which he was +powerless to direct. Already Storch and his associates were allowing +him a certain aloofness--letting him set himself apart with the +melancholy arrogance of one who had been chosen for a fanatical +sacrifice. + +Replying to Storch's question regarding his plans, he said, decidedly: + +"I leave all that to you... Give me instructions and I'll act. But I +want to know nothing until the end." + +"Within two weeks... Is there a special reason why ..." + +"Yes ... a very special reason." + +Storch turned away. But the next day he said, "Have you that card that +Hilmer gave you?" + +Fred yielded it up. + +Storch smiled his wide, green smile. Fred asked no questions, but he +guessed the plans. A spy was to be worked in upon Hilmer. + +Every morning now Fred Starratt found a silver dollar upon the +cluttered table at Storch's. He smiled grimly as he pocketed the +money. He was to have not a care in the world. Like a perfect youth of +the ancients marked for a sweet-scented offering to the gods, he was +to go his way in perfect freedom until his appointed time. There was +an element of grotesqueness in it all that dulled the edge of horror +which he should have felt. + +Sometimes he would sally forth in a noonday sun, intent on solitude, +but usually he craved life and bustle and the squalor of cluttered +foregrounds. With his daily dole of silver jingling in his pocket he +went from coffeehouse to coffeehouse or drowsed an hour or two in a +crowded square or stood with his foot upon the rail of some +emasculated saloon, listening to the malcontents muttering over their +draughts of watery beer. + +"Ah yes," he would hear these last grumble, "the rich can have their +grog... But the poor man--he can get it only when he is dying ... +providing he has the price." + +And here would follow the inevitable reply, sharpened by bitter +sarcasm: + +"But all this is for the poor man's good ... you understand. Men work +better when they do not indulge in follies... They will stop dancing +next. Girls in factories should not come to work all tired out on +Monday morning. They would find it much more restful to spend the time +upon their knees." + +It was not what they said, but the tone of it, that made Fred Starratt +shudder. Their laughter was the terrible laughter of sober men without +either the wit or circumstance to escape into a temperate gayety of +spirit. He still sat apart, as he had done at Fairview and again at +Storch's gatherings. He had not been crushed sufficiently, even yet, +to mingle either harsh mirth or scalding tears with theirs. But he was +feeling a passion for ugliness ... he wanted to drain the bitter +circumstance of life to the lees. He was seeking to harden himself to +his task past all hope of reconsideration. + +He liked especially to talk to the cripples of industry. Here was a +man who had been blinded by a hot iron bolt flung wide of its mark, +and another with his hand gnawed clean by some gangrenous product of +flesh made raw by the vibrations of a riveting machine. And there were +the men deafened by the incessant pounding of boiler shops, and one +poor, silly, lone creature whose teeth had been slowly eaten away by +the excessive sugar floating in the air of a candy factory. Somehow +this last man was the most pathetic of all. In the final analysis, his +calling seemed so trivial, and he a sacrifice upon the altar of a +petty vanity. Once he met a man weakened into consumption by the +deadly heat of a bakeshop. These men did not whine, but they exhibited +their distortions with the malicious pride of beggars. They demanded +sympathy, and somehow their insistence had a humiliating quality. He +used to wonder, in rare moments of reflection, how long it would take +for all this foul seepage to undermine the foundations of life. Or +would it merely corrode everything it came in contact with, very much +as it had corroded him? Only occasionally did he have an impulse to +escape from the terrible estate to which his rancor had called him. At +such intervals he would turn his feet toward the old quarter of the +town and stand before the garden that had once smiled upon his +mother's wooing, seeking to warm himself once again in the sunlight of +traditions. The fence, that had screened the garden from the nipping +wind which swept in every afternoon from the bay, was rotting to a +sure decline, disclosing great gaps, and the magnolia tree struggling +bravely against odds to its appointed blossoming. But it was growing +blackened and distorted. Some day, he thought, it would wither +utterly... He always turned away from this familiar scene with the +profound melancholy springing from the realization that the past was a +pale corpse lighted by the tapers of feeble memory. + +One afternoon, accomplishing again this vain pilgrimage, he found the +tree snapped to an untimely end. It had gone down ingloriously in a +twisting gale that had swept the garden the night before. + +In answer to his question, the man intent on clearing away the +wreckage said: + +"The wind just caught it right... It was dying, anyway." + +Fred Starratt retraced his steps. It was as if the old tree had stood +as a symbol of his own life. + +He never went back to view the old garden again, but, instead, he +stood at midnight upon the corner past which Ginger walked with such +monotonous and terrible fidelity. He would stand off in the shadows +and see her go by, sometimes alone, but more often in obscene company. +And in those moments he tasted the concentrated bitterness of life. +Was this really a malicious jest or a test of his endurance? To what +black purpose had belated love sprung up in his heart for this woman +of the streets? And to think that once he had fancied that so +withering a passion was as much a matter of good form as of cosmic +urging! There had been conventions in love--and styles and seasons! +One loved purity and youth and freshness. Yes, it had been as easy as +that for him. Just as it had been as easy for him to choose a nice and +pallid calling for expressing his work-day joy. He could have +understood a feeling of sinister passion for Sylvia Molineaux and +likewise he could have indulged it. But the snare was more subtle and +cruel than that. He was fated to feel the awe and mystery and beauty +of a rose-white love which he saw hourly trampled in the grime of the +streets. He had fancied once that love was a matter of give and take +... he knew now that it was essentially an outpouring ... that to love +was sufficient to itself ... that it could be without reward, or wage, +or even hope. He knew now that it could spring up without sowing, +endure without rain, come to its blossoming in utter darkness. And yet +he did not have the courage of these revelations. He felt their +beauty, but it was the beauty of nakedness, and he had no skill to +weave a philosophy with which to clothe them. If it had been possible +a year ago for him to have admitted so cruel a love he knew what he +would have done. He would have waited for her upon this selfsame +street corner and shot her down, turning the weapon upon himself. Yes, +he would have been full of just such empty heroics. Thus would he have +expressed his contempt and scorn of the circumstance which had tricked +him. But now he was beyond so conventional a settlement. + +The huddled meetings about Storch's shattered lamp were no more, but +in small groups the scattered malcontents exchanged whispered +confidences in any gathering place they chanced upon. Fred Starratt +listened to the furtive reports of their activities with morbid +interest. But he had to confess that, so far, they were proving empty +windbags. The promised reign of terror seemed still a long way off. +There were moments even when he would speculate whether or not he was +being tricked into unsupported crime. But he raised the question +merely out of curiosity... Word seemed to have been passed that he was +disdainful of all plans for setting the trap which he was to spring. +But one day, coming upon a group unawares in a Greek coffeehouse on +Folsom Street, he caught a whispered reference to Hilmer. Upon the +marble-topped table was spread a newspaper--Hilmer's picture smiled +insolently from the printed page. The gathering broke up in quick +confusion on finding him a silent auditor. When they were gone he +reached for the newspaper. A record-breaking launching was to be +achieved at Hilmer's shipyard within the week. The article ended with +a boastful fling from Hilmer to the effect that his plant was running +to full capacity in spite of strikes and lockouts. Fred threw the +paper to the floor. A chill enveloped him. He had caught only the +merest fragments of conversation which had fallen from the lips of the +group he had surprised, but his intuitions had been sharpened by +months of misfortune. He knew at once what date had been set for the +consummation of Storch's sinister plot. He rose to his feet, shivering +until his teeth chattered. He felt like a man invested with all the +horrid solemnity of the death watch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +That night Storch confirmed Fred's intuitions. He said, pausing a +moment over gulping his inevitable bread and cheese: + +"I have planned everything for Saturday." + +Fred cut himself a slice of bread. "So I understand," he said, coldly. + +"Who told you?" + +"Your companions are great gossips ... and I have ears." + +The insolence in Fred's tone made Storch knit his brows. + +"Well, knowing so much, you must be ready for details now," he flung +out. + +Fred nodded. + +Storch lighted his pipe and glowered. "The launching is to take place +at noon. Hilmer has planned to arrive at the yards promptly at eleven +forty-five at the north gate. Everything is ready, down to the last +detail." + +"Including the bomb?" Fred snapped, suddenly. + +"Including the bomb," Storch repeated, malevolently, caressing the +phrase with a note of rare affection. "It is the most skillful +arrangement I have seen in a long time ... in a kodak case. By the way +... are you accurate at heaving things?... You are to stand upon the +roof of a row of one-story stores quite near the entrance and promptly +at the precise minute--" + +"Ah, a time bomb!" + +"Naturally." + +"And if Hilmer should be late?" + +"He is always on time... And, besides, there is a special reason. He +wants the launching accomplished on the stroke of noon." + +"And if he comes too early?" + +"Impossible. He went south last week ... you knew that, of course. And +he doesn't get into San Francisco until late that morning. He is to be +met at Third and Townsend streets and go at once to Oakland in his +machine... There will be four in the party ... perhaps six." + +Fred Starratt stood up slowly, repressing a desire to leap suddenly to +his feet. He walked up and down the cluttered room twice. Storch +watched him narrowly. + +"Six in the party?" Fred echoed. "Any women?" + +Storch rubbed his palms together. "There may be two ... providing your +wife comes back with him... Mrs. Hilmer sent for her." + +"Mrs. Hilmer!" + +Storch smiled his usual broad smile, exhibiting his green teeth. + +"She developed a whim to attend the launching... Naturally she wished +her _dearest_ friend with her." + +Fred Starratt sat down. He was trembling inwardly, but he knew +instinctively that he must appear nonchalant and calm. He guessed at +once that it would not do for him to betray the fact that suddenly he +realized how completely he had been snared. Yet his trepidation must +have communicated itself, for Storch leaned forward with the +diabolical air of an inquisitor and said: + +"Does it matter in the least whether there is one victim or six?" + +Fred managed to reply, coolly, "Not the slightest ... but I have been +thinking in terms of one." + +Storch smiled evilly. "That would have been absurd in any case. There +are always a score or so of bystanders who ..." + +"Yes, of course, of course. Just so!" Fred interrupted. + +Storch laid his pipe aside and drained a half-filled glass of red wine +standing beside his plate. + +"I think I've turned a very neat trick," he said, smacking his lips in +satisfaction. "It's almost like a Greek tragedy--Hilmer, his wife, and +yours in one fell swoop, and at your hand. There is an artistic unity +about this affair that has been lacking in some of my other triumphs." + +Fred rose again, and this time he turned squarely on Storch as he +asked: + +"How long have you and Mrs. Hilmer been plotting this together?" + +Storch's eyes widened in surprise. "You're getting keener every +moment... Well, you've asked a fair question. I planted that maid in +the house soon after I knew the story." + +"After the fever set me to prattling?" + +"Precisely." + +Fred Starratt stood motionless for a moment, but presently he began to +laugh. + +Storch looked annoyed, then rather puzzled. Fred took the hint and +fell silent. For the first time since his escape from Fairview he was +experiencing the joy of alert and sharpened senses. He had ceased to +drift. From this moment on he would be struggling. And a scarcely +repressed joy rose within him. + +That night Fred Starratt did not sleep. His mind was too clear, his +senses too alert. He was like a man coming suddenly out of a mist into +the blinding sunshine of some valley sheltered from the sea. + +"Does it matter in the least whether there is one victim or six?" + +He repeated Storch's question over and over again. Yes, it did +matter--why, he could not have said. But even in a vague way there had +been a certain point in winging Hilmer. Hilmer had grown to be more +and more an impersonal effigy upon which one could spew forth malice +and be forever at peace. He had fancied, too, that Hilmer was his +enemy. Yet, Hilmer had done nothing more than harry him. It was Storch +who had captured him completely. + +It was not that Storch was unable to discover a score of men ready and +willing to murder Hilmer, but he was finding an ironic diversion in +shoving a weary soul to the brink. He liked to confirm his faith in +the power of sorrow and misery and bitterness ... he liked to triumph +over that healing curse of indifference which time accomplished with +such subtlety. He took a delight in cutting the heart and soul out of +his victims and reducing them to puppets stuffed with sawdust, +answering the slightest pressure of his hands. How completely Fred +Starratt understood all this now! And in the blinding flash of this +realization he saw also the hidden spring that had answered Storch's +pressure. Storch may have been prodding for rancor, but he really had +touched the mainspring of all false and empty achievement--vanity. + +"Losing a wife isn't of such moment ... but to be laughed at--that is +another matter!" + +The words with which Storch had held him up to the scorn of the crowd +swept him now with their real significance. He had been afraid to seem +uncourageous. + +Thus also had Mrs. Hilmer prodded him with her sly "What do men do in +such cases?" + +Thus, also, had the terrible realization of his love for Sylvia +Molineaux been turned to false account with a wish to still the +stinging wounds of pride forever. + +He had made just such empty gestures when he had battled for an +increase in salary, using Hilmer's weapons instead of his own, and +again when he had committed himself to Fairview with such a theatrical +flourish. He had performed then, he was performing now, with an eye to +his audience. And his audience had done then, and was doing now, what +it always did--treated him with the scorn men feel for any and all who +play down to them. + +Already Storch was sneering with the contempt of a man too sure of his +power. He would not have risked the details of his plan otherwise. And +deep down Fred Starratt knew that the first duty to his soul was to be +rid of Storch at any cost--after that, perhaps, it would not matter +whether he had one or six or a hundred victims marked for destruction. +He was afraid of Storch and he had now to prove his courage to +himself. + +It was at the blackest hour before dawn that this realization grew to +full stature. He raised himself upon his elbow, listening to the heavy +breathing of Storch. He rose cautiously. Now was his chance. He would +escape while his conviction was still glistening with the freshness of +crystallization. Moving with a catlike tread toward the door, he put +his hand upon the knob. It turned noisily. He heard Storch leap to his +feet. He stood quite still until Storch came up to him. + +"Go back to bed ... where you belong!" Storch was commanding, coolly, +with a shade of menace in his voice. + +He shuffled back to his couch. He was no longer afraid of Storch, but +a certain craftiness suddenly possessed him. + +Presently he heard a key turn and he felt himself to be completely in +the hands of his jailer. Yet the locked door became at once the symbol +of both Storch's strength and weakness. Storch was determined to have +either his body or his soul. And, at that moment, Fred Starratt made +his choice. + +Next morning Storch was up early and bustling about with unusual +clatter. + +"Get up!" he cried, gayly, to Fred. "Do you realize this is Friday?... +There are a thousand details to attend to." + +Fred pretended to find Storch's manner infectious. He had never seen +anyone so eager, so thrilling with anticipation. + +"I've got to buy you a new outfit complete," Storch went on, filling +the coffeepot with water. "And you must be shaved and shorn and made +human-looking again. Rags are well enough to wrap discontent in ... +but one should have a different make-up for achievement... What was +the matter last night?" + +"Oh, a bit of panic, I guess," Fred returned, nonchalantly. "But I'm +all right this morning." + +Storch rubbed his hands in satisfaction, and he smiled continually. + +They went out shortly after nine o'clock and in San Francisco's embryo +ghetto at McAllister and Fillmore streets they bought a decent-looking +misfit suit and a pair of second-hand shoes, to say nothing of a +bargain in shirts. A visit to a neighboring barber followed. Storch +permitted Fred to enter the shop alone, but he stood upon the corner +and waited. + +When the barber finished, Fred was startled. Standing before the +mirror he gazed at his smooth-shaven cheek again and trembled. It was +like a resurrection. Even Storch was startled. Fred caught a +suggestion of doubt in the gaze his jailer threw at him. It was almost +as if Storch said: + +"You are not the man I thought you." + +After that Fred had a sense that Storch watched him more narrowly. +Impulses toward forcing the issue at once assailed Fred, but he was +too uncertain as to the outcome. He decided that the safest thing was +to wait until the very last moment, trying to prolong the issue until +it would be too late for Storch to lay other plans. + +They went back to the shack for a bite of lunch. After they had eaten, +Fred put on his new clothes. He felt now completely cut off from the +cankerous life which had been so deliberately eating its way into his +philosophy. Could it be possible that clothes did in some mysterious +way make the man? Would his unkempt beard and gaping shoes and +tattered clothing have kept him nearer the path of violence? + +A little after three o'clock in the afternoon a man came to the door +and handed Storch a carefully wrapped package. They did not exchange a +word. Storch took the package and stowed it away in a corner, covering +it with a ragged quilt. + +"That is the bomb!" flashed through Fred's mind. + +From that moment on this suggestive corner of the room was filled with +a mysterious fascination. It was like living on the edge of a volcano. + +Later in the day he said to Storch: + +"Are you sure the maker of that bomb was skillful?" + +Storch bared his green teeth. + +"One is sure of nothing!" he snapped back. + +Fred tried to appear nonchalant. "Aren't you rather bold, having this +thing delivered in broad daylight?" + +"What have we to fear?" + +"I thought we were being watched." + +Storch threw back his head and roared with laughter. "_You_ have been +watched ... if that's what you mean. I never believe in taking any +unnecessary chances." + +Fred made no reply. But a certain contempt for Storch that hitherto +had been lacking rose within him. He had always fancied certain +elements of bigness in this man in spite of his fanaticism. Suddenly +he was conscious that his silence had evoked a subtle uneasiness in +Storch. At this moment he laughed heartily himself as he rose from his +seat, slapping Storch violently on the back as he cried: + +"Upon my word, Storch, you're a master hand! No matter what happens +now, at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that I was +perfectly stage-managed." + +They kept close to the house until nearly midnight. At a few moments +to twelve Storch drew a flask of smuggled brandy from his hip pocket. + +"Here, take a good drink!" he said, passing the bottle to Fred. + +Fred did as he was bidden. Storch followed suit. + +"Would you like a turn in the open?" Storch inquired, not unkindly. + +"Yes," Fred assented. + +They put on their hats. When they were outside Storch made a little +gesture of surrender. "You lead ... I'll follow," he said, +indulgently. + +The night was breathless--still touched with the vagrant warmth of an +opulent April day. The spring of blossoming acacias was over, but an +even fuller harvest of seasonal unfolding was sweeping the town. A +fragrant east wind was flooding in from the blossom-starred valleys, +and vacant lots yielded up a scent of cool, green grass. A +soul-healing quality released itself from the heavily scented +air--hidden and mysterious beauties of both body and spirit that sent +little thrills through Fred Starratt. He had never been wrapped in a +more exquisite melancholy--not even during the rain-raked days at +Fairview. He knew that Storch was by his side, but, for the moment, +this sinister personality seemed to lose its power and he felt Monet +near him. It was as it had been during those days upon Storch's couch +with death beckoning--the nearer he approached the dead line, the more +distinctly he saw Monet. To-night his vision was clouded, but a keener +intuition gave him the sense of Monet's presence. He knew that he was +standing close to another brink. + +For a time he surrendered completely to this luxury of feeling, as if +it strengthened him to find stark reality threaded with so much +haunting beauty. But he discovered himself suddenly yearning for the +poetry of life rather than the poetry of death. He wanted to live, +realizing completely that to-morrow might seal everything. He was not +afraid, but he was alive, very much alive--so alive that he found +himself rising triumphant from sorrow and shame and disillusionment. + +He came out of his musings with a realization that Storch was +regarding him with that puzzled air which his moods were beginning to +evoke. And almost at the same time he was conscious that their feet +were planted upon that selfsame corner past which Ginger walked at +midnight. He put a hand on Storch's shoulder. + +"Let us wait here a few moments," he said. "I am feeling a little +tired." + +A newsboy bellowing the latest edition of the paper broke an unusual +and almost profound stillness. + +"There doesn't seem to be many people about to-night," Fred observed, +casually. + +Storch sneered. "To-day is Good Friday, I believe... Everyone has +grown suddenly pious." + +Fred turned his attention to the windows of a tawdry candy shop, +filled with unhealthy-looking chocolates and chromatic sweets. He was +wondering whether Ginger would pass again to-night. His musings were +answered by the suggestive pressure of Storch's hand on his. + +"There's a skirt on the Rialto, anyway," Storch was saying, with +disdain. + +Fred kept his gaze fixed upon the candy-shop window. He was afraid to +look up. Could it be that Ginger was passing before him, perhaps for +the last time? He caught the vague reflection of a feminine form in +the plate-glass window. A surge of relief swept him--at least she was +alone! + +"She's looking back!" Storch volunteered. + +Fred turned. The woman had gained the doorway of the place where she +lodged and she was standing with an air of inconsequence as if she had +nothing of any purpose on her mind except an appreciation of the +night's dark beauty. He looked at her steadily ... It _was_ Ginger! + +She continued to stand, immobile, wrapped in the sinister patience of +her calling. Fred could not take his eyes from her. + +"She's waiting for you," Storch said. + +Fred smiled wanly. + +"Do you want to go? ... If you do I'll wait--here!" + +Fred tried to conceal his conflicting emotions. He did not want to +betray his surprise at Storch's sudden and irrational indiscretion. + +"Well, if you don't mind," he began to flounder, "I'll--" + +Storch gave him a contemptuous shove. "Go on ... go on!" he cried, +almost impatiently, and the next moment Fred Starratt found himself at +Ginger's side... For an instant she stood transfixed as she lifted her +eyes to his. + +"Don't scream!" he commanded between his locked lips. "I don't want +that man to know that--" + +She released her breath sharply. "Shall we go in?" she whispered. + +He nodded. Storch was pretending to be otherwise absorbed, but Fred +knew that he had been intent on their pantomime. + +Her room was bare, pitifully bare, swept clean of all the tawdry +fripperies that one might expect from such an environment and +circumstance. She motioned him wearily to an uncompromising chair, +standing herself with an air of profound resignation as she leaned +against the cheaply varnished bureau. + +"Is this the first time--" she began, and stopped short. + +"No ... I've watched you every night for nearly two weeks." + +"What was the idea?" she threw out, with an air of banter. + +He stood up suddenly. "I wanted to see how much I _could_ stand," he +answered. + +She closed her eyes for a moment ... her immobility was full of +tremulous fear and hope. + +"Ah!" she said, finally. "So you did care, after all!" + +"Yes ... when it was too late." + +She crossed over to him, putting one wan finger on his trembling lips +in protest. She did not speak, but he read the thrilling simplicity of +her silence completely. "Love is never too late!" was what her +eloquent gesture implied. + +He thrust her forward at arm's length, searching her eyes. "You are +right," he said, slowly. "And yet it can be bitter!" + +She released herself gently. "You shouldn't have watched me like that +... it wasn't fair." + +"I didn't think you would ever know... And that first night I didn't +intend to watch ... not really. After that it got to be habit... +You've no idea the capacity for suffering an unhappy man can acquire." + +She took off her hat and flung it on the bed. "What made you follow me +to-night?" + +"You came out of a clear sky ... when I needed you most ... as you +have always done... I didn't think I could ever escape that man +waiting for me below--not even for an instant... To-morrow, at this +time, I may be dead ... or worse." + +"Dead?" + +"To-morrow, at noon, I'm scheduled to blow up Axel Hilmer... There +will be five others in the party ... my wife and his among them." + +Her body was rigid ... only her lips moved. "You are going to do it?" + +"No." + +She passed a fluttering hand over her forehead. "But you spoke of +death..." + +He smiled bitterly. "Either I shall be dead--or the man waiting for me +on the street corner... I shall not tell him my decision until the +last moment. I don't want to give him the chance to work in an +understudy or complete the job himself... Will you go to Hilmer +to-morrow and warn him?... He arrives from the south at the Third and +Townsend depot somewhere around eleven o'clock. Advise him to postpone +the launching. And have the approaches to the shipyards combed for +radicals... Let them watch particularly for a man with a kodak on the +roof of the stores opposite the north gate." + +She picked up her hat quickly. "I'll go out now and warn the police +... indirectly. I have ways, you know." + +He put out a restraining hand. "No ... that's risky. My friend Storch +has spies everywhere. He's giving me a little rope here ... he may be +waiting just to see how foolishly I use it. If you lie low until +to-morrow there will be less of a chance of things going wrong... +Besides, I owe this man something. He's fed and sheltered me. I'm +going to give him an even break. You would do that much, I'm sure." + +She threw her arms suddenly about him. "Let me go down to him," she +whispered. "Perhaps I can persuade him. Maybe he'll go away, then, and +leave you in peace." + +He stroked her hair. "No, I can't escape him now. Sooner or later he +would get me. You don't understand his power. All my life I've dodged +issues. But now I've run up against a stone wall. Either I scale it or +I break my neck in the attempt." + +She shivered as if his touch filled her with an exquisite fear as she +drew away. + +"I'm wondering if you are quite real," she said, wistfully. "Sometimes +I've thought of you as dead, and, again, it didn't seem possible... +Always at night upon the street I've really looked for you. In every +face that stared at me I had a hope that your eyes would answer +mine... I think I've looked for you all my life... It isn't always +necessity that drives a woman to the streets... Sometimes it is the +search for happiness... I suppose you can't understand that..." + +"I understand anything you tell me _now_!" + +She went over to him again and took his hand. "You _are_ real, aren't +you?... Because I couldn't bear it ... if I were to wake up and find +this all a dream... Nothing else matters ... nothing in my whole life +... but this moment. And when it is over nothing will ever matter ... +again." + +He sat there stroking her hand foolishly. There were no words with +which to answer her... Presently she put her lips close to his and he +kissed her, and he knew then that only a woman who had tasted the +bitter wormwood of infamy could put such purity into a kiss. How many +times she must have hungered for this moment! How many times must she +have felt her soul rising to her lips only to find it betrayed! + +He loved her for her words and he loved her for her silence. Once he +would have sat waiting passionately for her to defend herself. He +would have been tricked into believing that any course of action +_could_ be justified. But she brought no charges, she placed no blame, +she offered no excuse. "It isn't always necessity that drives a woman +to the streets!" It took a great soul to be that honest. She might +have reproached him, too, for his neglect of her--for his fear to take +his happiness on any terms. But all she had said was, "You shouldn't +have watched me like that ... it wasn't fair." + +He rose, finally, shaking himself into the world of reality again. + +"I must be going now," he said, quietly. "Storch will begin to be +impatient." + +She picked a gilt hairpin from the floor. "Let me see if I've got +everything straight. To-morrow at eleven o'clock I am to see Hilmer +and tell him to postpone the launching. And to watch at the north gate +for a man with a kodak... And then?" + +He reached for his hat. "If you do not hear from me you might come and +look me up. I'll be at Storch cottage on Rincon Hill ... at the foot +of Second Street. Anyone about can tell you which house is his." + +Her lips were an ashen gray. "You mean you'll be there ... _dead?_" + +"If you are afraid ..." + +"_Afraid!_" She drew herself up proudly. + +"Well ... there is danger for you, too... I should have thought of +that!" + +"You do not understand even now." She went and stood close to him. "I +_love_ you ... can't you realize that?" + +He felt suddenly abashed, as if he stood convicted of being a cup too +shallow to hold her outpouring. + +"Good-by," he whispered. + +She closed her eyes, lifting her brow for his waiting kiss. The heavy +perfume of her hair seemed to draw his soul to a prodigal outpouring. +He found her lips again, clasping her close. + +"Good-by," he heard her answer. + +And at that moment he felt the mysterious Presence that had swept so +close to him on that heartbreaking Christmas Eve at Fairview. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Storch was standing at the lodging-house door when Fred stepped into +the street. + +"Well, what now?" Storch inquired, with mock politeness. + +"Let's go home!" Fred returned, emphatically. + +Almost as soon as the phrase had escaped him he had a sense of its +grotesqueness. Home! Yes, he had to admit that he felt a certain +affection for that huddled room which had witnessed so much spiritual +travail. Somehow its dusty rafters seemed saturated with a human +quality, as if they had imprisoned all the perverse longings and +bitter griefs of the company that once sat in the dim lamplight and +chanted their litany of hate. He never really had been a part of this +company ... he never really had been a part of any company. At the +office of Ford, Wetherbee & Co., at Fairview, at Storch's gatherings, +he had mingled with his fellow-men amiably or tolerantly or +contemptuously, as the case might be, but never with sympathy or +understanding. He knew now the reason--he always had judged them, even +to the last moment, using the uncompromising foot rule of prejudice, +inherent or acquired. In the old days he had thought of these +prejudices as standards, mistaking aversions for principles. He had +tricked his loves, his hates, his preferences in a masquerade of +pretenses ... he had labels for everybody and he pigeonholed them with +the utmost promptitude. A man was a murderer or a saint or a +bricklayer, and he was nothing else. But at this moment, standing in +the light-flooded entrance to Ginger's lodgings, waiting for Storch to +lead him back to his figurative cell, he knew that a man could be a +murderer and a saint and a bricklayer and a thousand other things +besides. And if he were to sit again about that round table of +violence and despair he felt that, while he might find much to stir +hatred, he would never again give scope to contempt. + +"You want to go home, eh?" Storch was repeating, almost with a note of +obscene mirth. "Well, our walk has been quieting, at all events." + +Fred Starratt said nothing. He was not in a mood for talk. But when +they were inside the house again, with the cracked lamp shade spilling +a tempered light about the room, he turned to Storch and said, +quietly: + +"I sha'n't go to sleep to-night, Storch... You throw yourself on the +couch; I've kept you from it long enough." + +Storch made a movement toward the door. + +"Don't bother to lock it ... I'm not going to run away. I'm not quite +a fool! I know that if I did try anything like that I wouldn't get +farther than the edge of the cliff." + +Storch gave him a puzzled glance. Fred could see that he was +uncertain, baffled... But in the end he turned away from the unlocked +door with a shrug. + +Fred Starratt smiled with inner satisfaction. He was glad that he had +come back to give Storch that "even break." It was something of an +achievement to have compelled Storch's faith in so slight a thing as a +literal honesty. + +But Storch didn't take the couch. He threw his coat aside and crept +into his wretched pile of quilts on the floor, as he said: + +"You may want to snatch forty winks or so before the night is over." + +There was a warm note in his voice, a bit of truant fatherliness that +added an element of grotesqueness to the situation. He might have used +the same words and tone to a son about to take the highroad to fortune +on the morrow. Or to a lad determined to start upon a sunrise fishing +trip, and impatient of the first flush of dawn. After all, it took +great simplicity to approach the calamitous moments of life through +the channels of the commonplace. + +Presently Storch was snoring with the zest which he always brought to +sleep. The night air had chilled the room past the point of comfort +and the lamp seemed to make little headway with its thin volume of +ascending warmth. Fred wrapped himself in a blanket and sat half +shivering in the gloom. At first, detached and unrelated thoughts ran +through his brain, but gradually his musing assumed a coherence. +To-morrow, at this time, he might be either a hunted murderer or a +victim himself of Storch's desperation. In any case, he would be +furnishing the text for many a newspaper sermon. How eagerly they +would trace his downfall, sniffing out the salacious bits for the +furtive enjoyment of the chemically pure! For there would be salacious +bits. Had he not spent the preceding night in the company of a fallen +woman? One by one the facts would be brought out, added to and +subtracted from, until the whole affair was a triumph of the transient +story-teller art, unrelieved by the remotest flash of understanding. +They would interview his former employers first. Mr. Ford would say: + +"A steady, conscientious, faithful employee until he became bitten +with parlor radicalism." + +And Brauer, rather frightened, yet garrulous, would add, for want of +anything better: + +"An honest partner until he began hitting the booze." + +There would be his wife, too. "I did all I could. Stood by him to the +last ... even when I discovered that there was another woman." + +The authorities at Fairview would doubtless add their note to the +general chorus: + +"An exceptional patient. He seemed to have planned deliberately to get +our confidence and then betray it... He was directly responsible for +Felix Monet's death. Without his influence Monet would never have +thought of escape." + +And in summing up, the police would declare: + +"A bad actor from the word go. One of the sort who reach a certain +point in respectability and then run amuck. A danger to the community +because of his brains." + +But what of Hilmer? Fred Starratt had a feeling that Hilmer would be +discreet to a point of silence. + +He could see every printed phrase as plainly as if he were reading it +all himself. How many times in the old days had he not perused some +such story over his morning coffee, thanking himself unconsciously +that he was not as other men! How perfectly and smugly he had played +the Pharisee for his own delight and satisfaction! He had not bothered +then to cry his virtues aloud in the market place or to thank God +publicly for his salvation. No, he was too self-sufficient to take the +trouble to advertise his worthiness. + +To-night he was on the brink of disaster, and yet he found himself +shuddering at the colorless fate to which his complacence might have +condemned him. To have gone on forever in a state of drowsy +contentment ... to have been surrounded on all sides by the thunderous +cataracts of life and caught only the pretty significance of rainbows +through the spray ... to have remained untouched by any and every +primitive impulse and feeling--he could not now imagine anything more +tragic. And yet, to-morrow, people would hold up the desirability of +his former estate, pointing to him in warning for the soft-armed +profit of an oncoming generation. He saw himself as he might have +been, going on to the end of time in the service of Ford, Wetherbee & +Co., rising from map clerk to counter man, to special agent, perhaps +even to a managership, writing sharp or conciliatory letters to agents +according to their importance, trimming office expense and shaving +salaries, heckling green office boys, and, his workday ended, going +home to _The Literary Digest_ and Helen, fresh from the triumphs of +the golf links or the card table. Yes, no doubt Helen would have +matched his own rise in fortune with equal gentility. Perhaps he might +have taken an hour between office closing and dinner to wield a golf +club himself ... bringing back a desirable guest to dinner or +proposing through the telephone to Helen that they dine at the Palace +or St. Francis... Yes, even at best his imagination could not do more +with the material in hand. Indeed, he knew that he had crowded the +very most that was possible on so small a canvas. + +This, then, had been his unconscious life plan, his unvoiced fate. +Thus had he sketched it hazily, as a teller of tales sketches the plot +of a story, such and such a sum being the total of all the characters +and circumstances. But as he had gone on developing it, suddenly a new +character had appeared to change the final figures--a wrench thrown +into the wheel of continuity ... a wrench that bore the name of Axel +Hilmer... He felt no bitterness now for the man. Had he ever felt it? + +Axel Hilmer had long ceased to be a living personality to Fred +Starratt. Instead, he had taken on almost the significance of a +strange divinity ... an eternal questioner. At their very first +meeting he had started the ferment in Fred Starratt's soul with the +directness of his interrogations. He was not a man who declared his +own faiths ... he merely asked you to prove yours. The questions he +had asked Fred Starratt on that first night had been insignificant in +themselves. Why was it ridiculous for a butcher to want an eight-hour +day? Why should one have the firm's interest at heart? And yet the +sparks from such verbal flint stones had kindled a revolt that had +wrecked Fred Starratt's complacence. + +One's sight becomes strengthened to destructive ideas by gradual +perception. And ideas of any kind are destructive flashed on +consciousness unawares. Fred had thought at first that Hilmer had but +opened his eyes to things standing in his range of vision, when, as a +matter of fact, Hilmer had merely loaned him his spectacles. +Everything he had seen from that first moment had been through +Hilmer's medium. A wise man would have proceeded slowly, building +himself up for the struggle. But Fred Starratt had had all the wistful +enthusiasm of a fool seeking to achieve power overnight. Yes, only a +fool could have been ashamed of his heritage. And when Hilmer had +placed him calmly in the ranks of the middle class the wine of content +had turned suddenly sour. A year ago his efforts were being directed +at escape from so contemptuous a characterization; to-night he was +content to acknowledge the impeachment and find a pride in the +circumstance. And, as he sat there shivering in the gloom of Storch's +cracked lamp, he had a vision of this scorned company to which he +unquestionably belonged, sterile and barren in the glare of accepted +standards, broken gradually by the plowshare of disillusionment and +harrowed to great potentialities by a deeper sense of their faiths and +needs. Yes, he had a conviction that what could take place in one soul +could take place in the soul of the mass ... he had not changed his +standards so much as he had proved them. The shape and color and +perfume of love and loyalty and faith had not been altered for him, +but he could discover their blossoming among the shadowy places. + +At a black hour, before the first greenish glow was quickening the +east, he tiptoed and stood gazing down at Storch. He had never seen a +face more placid and untroubled. He felt that any man must have an +extraordinary sense of self-righteousness to yield so completely to +serenity in the face of deliberate crime. But Storch was of the stuff +of which all fanatics were made. Ends to him always justified means. +Of such were the Inquisitors of Spain, the Puritans of the +Reformation, the radicals of to-day. They had neither doubts nor fears +nor pity, and the helmets of their faith were a screen behind which +they hid their overweening egotism. They were ever seeking to entrap +humanity and humanity was forever in the end eluding them. And if +Hilmer were the eternal questioner made flesh, the gamekeeper beating +the furtive birds from the brush, this man Storch was the eternal +hunter, at once patient and relentless for his quarry. + +And now the hunter slept with a smile on his lips. Of what could he be +dreaming? Was it possible to dream of smile-fashioning themes with +potential destruction within a stone's throw? In a corner of this +room, in a well-packed square case, reposed the force that, once set +in motion at the proper or miscalculated moment, could hurl both +Storch and Fred Starratt to eternity, and yet Storch slept +undisturbed. Well, was not the broader canvas of life full of just +such profound faith or profound indifference? Did not society itself +sleep with the repressed hatreds of the submerged waiting their +appointed season? And while new worlds flew flaming from the wheel of +creation, and old ones died in an eye's twinkling, did not the race +dream on contemptuous of the changes which lurked in the restless +heavens? Yes, the meanest coward in existence had his innate courage +and there was a note of bravery in life on any terms. + +Fred stood before Storch's sleeping form a long time, and all manner +of impulses stirred him. There was even a moment when it came to him +that he might fall upon his gaoler while he slept and achieve a swift +freedom. And every ignoble murder of legend or history beckoned him +with the hands of red expediency. He ended by going to the door and +opening it cautiously as he had done the night before. But this time +the operation was more skillful and no warning click disturbed the +slumberer. He crept out into the night, down the cliff's edge, looking +back for the betraying shadow of a hidden spy. But there seemed to be +nothing to block his freedom. A virginal moon was languishing upon the +western rim of hills...a solitary cock crew lustily...occasional +footfalls floated up from the paved streets below...a cart rumbled in +the gloom. All these noises of the night were extraordinarily +friendly...like the smothered murmurings of a youth escaping from the +chains of sleep in pleasant dreaming. + +A swarm of platitudes surging through his brain urged him to flight. +But in the end self-esteem gave him his final cue, and he knew in a +flash how futile would be any truce with cowardice. A locked door +would have justified escape, but in the face of an unlatched threshold +there was only one course conceivable. + +Fred Starratt went back and wrapped himself in his blanket. Toward +daylight Storch arose and filled a pot with coffee. But neither spoke +a word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +As Storch cleared away the primitive evidences of the morning meal and +stood before the sink letting a thin trickle of cold water wash clean +the cups he said: + +"If we get the ten-o'clock boat to Oakland we will be in plenty of +time." + +Starratt rolled a cigarette. "Ah, then you are going, too!" + +"Naturally," Storch replied, as he turned off the water. + +Fred began to dress himself carefully. Storch loaned him an +indifferent razor. The shaving process was slow but in the end it was +accomplished. Fred was amazed at the freshness of his appearance. Only +once before in his life had he deliberately sat up all night without +either the desire or determination to sleep, and that was on that +night which now seemed so remote when he had felt the first budding of +Helen's scorn. He recalled that he had been just as alert and +clear-minded on the following morning as he was now. And just as +uncertain as to what the future held in store. + +Storch also made a careful toilet--for him. He rummaged for a clean +flannel shirt, combed his reddish beard, dusted off his clumsy boots. +But they were ready much too soon, like a couple of children promptly +dressed for an excursion, impatiently awaiting the hour of departure. +Of the two, Storch evinced the more nervousness. He poked into nooks +and corners of the room upon all sorts of pretended orderliness. Fred +sat and eyed him calmly--smoking cigarette after cigarette. Finally, +Storch lifted the kodak case from its hiding place and set it on the +center table. Cautiously he pried loose the false top and peered into +its depths. There followed a tense moment during which he bent in a +close inspection over its fascinating depths. Presently Fred caught a +distinct ticking sound, and he knew that Storch had set in motion the +clock upon which depended the bomb's explosion at the appointed hour. +But withal he remained curiously unmoved. + +The cry of a belated newsboy floated through the open front door. +Storch went out and bought a paper, flinging a section of it at Fred. +A thickly headlined account of the launching at the Hilmer yards +occupied chief place on the first page of the local news section. +There was a picture of the hull that had been put through on schedule +time in spite of strikes and lockouts, and another one of Hilmer, and +a second photograph of a woman. Fred looked twice before he realized +that the face of his wife was staring up at him from the printed +sheet. Helen Starratt was to be the ship's sponsor and there was a +pretty and touching story in this connection. It had always been Mrs. +Hilmer's ambition to christen a seagoing giant, and she had been +chosen to act as godmother to a huge oil-tanker only a year before, +but a serious accident had laid her low. Now, though she was unable to +perform the rite herself, she had intrusted her part to her faithful +friend, Mrs. Starratt. It was to be done by proxy, as it were, with +Mrs. Hilmer carried to the grand stand, where she was to repeat the +mystic formula, giving the ship a name at the moment when Helen +Starratt brought the foaming bottle of champagne crashing against the +vessel's side. The whole article, even down to this obvious dash of +"sob stuff," was at once Hilmer's challenge to the strikers and his +appeal to the gallery. There was a certain irony in realizing that all +these carefully planned effects had been seized upon for Hilmer's own +undoing. He was working in the dark, very much as Fred Starratt had +worked during those heartbreaking months when he had battled for place +in the business world. Then Hilmer had held him in the palm of his +hand. Now the situation was reversed--he held Axel Hilmer's fate in +his own keeping, and it was his finger that would spin the wheel of +destiny. Any fool could demand an eye for an eye; so much for so much +was the cut-and-dried morality of the market place. It took a poet to +bestow a wage out of all proportion to the workday, to turn the cheek +of humility to the blows of arrogance, to commend the extravagant gift +of the magdalene. And it was the poetry of life, after all, which +counted. Fred Starratt knew that now. A year ago he had thought of +poetry as strings of high-sounding words which produced a pleasant +mental reaction, something abstract and exotic. He had never fancied +that poetry was a thing to be seen and understood and lived, and that +such common things as bread and wine and love and hatred were shot +through with the pure gold of mystery. Once, if he had been moved to +magnanimity it would have been through an impulse of weak and +bloodless sentimentality ... now he had risen to generosity on the +wings of a supreme indifference, a magnificent contempt for +unessentials, a full-blooded understanding. Not that he had achieved a +cold and pallid philosophy ... a system of lukewarm expediencies. He +could still be swept by gusts of feeling ... he could even risk his +life to preserve it. + +He turned the pages of the newspaper over mechanically, reading word +upon word which held not the slightest meaning. He felt Storch's eyes +upon him, drawn, no doubt, by a mixture of subtle doubts and vague +appraisals. His thoughts flew to Ginger. What was she doing at this +moment? Was there any chance of _her_ failure? For answer another +question shaped itself: Had she _ever_ failed? Yet, this time she was +beset with dangers. And in his imagination he saw her treading the +thin ice of destiny with the same glorified contempt which lured him +to the poetical depths of life... And again Monet was at his side... +vague, mysterious, impalpable, the essence of things unseen but hoped +for, the solved riddle made spirit, the vast patience of eternity +realized. And still Storch's restless eyes were fixed upon him. + +Presently he heard Storch's voice coming to his ears out of a friendly +dusk: + +"It's nine-thirty...I guess we had better be moving." + +He did not stir at first...he merely sat staring at Storch, very much +as a man waking suddenly and not yet alive to the precise details of +his environment. "Moving...where?" he finally inquired. + +Storch crumpled the newspaper in his hand viciously. "Come...you've +been dreaming!" he flung out. "That's dangerous!" + +Fred braced himself in his chair. "I'm not going," he said, quietly. +"I've changed my mind!" + +Storch's mouth widened, not in a smile this time, but in a vicious +snarl. He took out a cheap watch from his pocket, glanced at it, and +put it back. + +"It's just twenty-five minutes to ten," he said, quietly. "I'll give +you five more minutes." + +Fred put both his arms upon the cluttered table, leaning forward, as +he answered: + +"Nothing can alter my decision now, Storch... You should have known +better than to have counted on one of my sort...In the end, you see, +my standards _have_ shackled me." + +"Counted on your sort!" Storch laughed back, sarcastically. "Do you +suppose for one moment that I ever count on anyone?... I like a game +of chance ... that's why I chose you. I like to triumph in spite of a +poor hand ... and you have been in some ways the poorest deal I've +ever risked a play on. But if I'd gotten you I'd have chuckled to my +dying day ... even in spite of the fact that it would have shattered +all my theories. I catch my fish upon the lowest and highest tides ... +slack water never yields much." + +He was rising to his feet. His face was a placid mask, but his voice +dripped venom. Fred matched his movements with equal quiet. + +"Still you did have hopes for me," Fred threw at him in grim raillery. +"I may have been the poorest prospect, but I have been the most +uncertain also... You might just as well admit that." + +He saw Storch's eyes widen at the arrogance of this unexpected thrust. + +"Slack water is always uncertain," Storch replied, "unless you know +which turn in the tide is to follow." + +They stood gazing at each other for a fraction of time, which seemed +eternity. And in that swift and yet prolonged exchange of glances Fred +Starratt read Storch's purpose completely... + +There followed a moment of swift action in which Storch made a clipt +movement toward his hip pocket, and in a trice Fred Starratt felt +himself bear quickly down upon the shattered lamp, grasp it firmly in +his two hands, and bring it crashing against Storch's upflung +forehead. + +He was not conscious of seeing Storch crumple over, but he felt a thud +shake the cluttered room to its foundations... He went over quietly +and closed the open door. Then he put on his hat. Storch lay quite +still and an ugly red pool was already luring flies to a crimson +feast. The floor was covered with bits of shattered glass glistening +in the sun. + +Presently he opened the door again. A child had crept up to the +doorstep and sat prattling to her tattered doll. He stepped aside so +as not to disturb her, shut the door with a sharp bang, and walked +swiftly to the edge of the cliff. But this time he plunged down. He +looked back once. Not a soul followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +He was sitting on a pile of lumber when, an hour later, his thoughts +began to run in rational channels again. Before him lay a patch of +gray-green bay, flanked on either side by wharves upon which two +black-hulled lumber schooners were disgorging their resinous cargo. +The strike of the longshoremen was still in progress and the +Embarcadero as good as deserted. Armed guards paraded before the +entrance to the docks and only occasional idlers sunned themselves and +viewed the silent and furtive loading of restive craft straining at +their moorings. + +He began to wonder dimly whether he had left Storch dead or merely +stunned, and, granting either alternative, how definitely this +circumstance would halt the plot against Hilmer's life. It was +conceivable to him now that Storch might have provided against the +possibility of failure, given the role of assassin into the hands of +an understudy, to be exact. Suppose Ginger should fail in her warning? +Not that he doubted her, but there was a chance that she had been +hedged about with all manner of difficulties--perhaps even death. +Suddenly with an arresting irrelevance he thought of the child upon +Storch's doorstep, hugging her doll close, and as swiftly he +remembered the black kodak case upon the center table. He wondered if +the child were still sitting there ... Perhaps, by this time, a swarm +of children were tumbling about the weather-beaten steps. He asked a +passer-by the hour. Eleven-thirty! In fifteen more minutes, if the +ticking clock within that sinister case performed its function, +Storch's dwelling would be tumbling in upon his prostrate body. And, +in the face of this, children might be prattling before the threshold. +He must go back again! + +He jumped to his feet and began to run. In an instant a conflagration +of potential disasters leaped up from the spark of the immediate +danger. He flew along faster, colliding with irate pedestrians, +escaping the wheels of skimming automobiles ... Presently the familiar +cliff and the tawny path scaling it loomed ahead. He began to climb +upward, almost on all-fours, digging his finger nails into the yellow +clay in an instinctive effort to pull himself forward. Finally he +gained the top ... The street, somnolent with approaching noon, was +deserted--the child had disappeared. He recovered his whirling senses +and looked again. This time he saw that the door of the shack stood +open. He took a step forward. A figure loomed in the doorway. He +shaded his eyes from the sun's glare and narrowed his lids. It was a +woman! + +The unexpectedness of this presence overwhelmed him as completely as +if he had seen an apparition. For an instant he did not grasp its +significance. + +Then, in another moment, understanding began to flood in upon him. He +felt a great weakness ... but he managed to make a trumpet with his +hands, calling in a voice that sounded remote: + +"Come out! For God's sake, come out!" + +He saw the woman start back in a movement of quick confusion, and +heard himself call again, this time with muffled agony: + +"Ginger!" + +There was a tremendous roar ... he felt a shower of stones hitting him +sharply in the face ... He pressed forward ... sheets of flame were +leaping greedily toward the sky and a string of people poured out into +the sun-baked street. + +At midnight Fred Starratt, making his way from the outlying districts +toward the center of the town, came out of a mental turmoil that had +flung him about all day in a series of blind impulses. The air was +raucous with the shrill cry of newsboys announcing the details of the +morning's sensation. He knew how the journalistic tale would run +without bothering to glimpse the headlines. At this time it would be +made up for the most part of vague speculations as to who was the +prime mover of the enterprise. + +The moments following the disaster were now fathomless, but he fancied +that he had been outwardly cool, chilled into subconscious calculation +by the very violence of the shock ... The frenzy had come later when +he found himself aboard a ferryboat bound for Oakland. He could not +disentangle the mixed impulses which had sent him upon this irrational +errand, but he remembered now that a consuming desire to see Hilmer +had possessed him. Perhaps an itching for revenge again had sprung +into life, perhaps a fury to release a measure of his scorn and +contempt, perhaps a mere curiosity to glimpse once more this man whose +armor of arrogance remained unpierced ... Whatever the urge, it had +keyed him to a quivering determination. He had wondered what stupidity +possessed him to send Ginger in warning to a man like Hilmer. ... With +almost psychic power he had created for himself the scene at the depot +with Ginger pouring her tremulous message into contemptuous ears. For +it was certain that Hilmer had been contemptuous. ... Afterward, +standing before the north gate of Hilmer's shipyards, a man at his +side confirmed his intuitions between irritating puffs from a +blackened pipe: + +"Nobody can double-cross Hilmer ... and they'd better give up trying +... He said a launching at noon and it _was_ at noon, you can bet your +life on that! ... They say a woman tried to scare the old man this +morning ... He just laughed in her face and came on over." + +Almost as the man had finished speaking the crowd surged forward. And +in a twinkling Hilmer's machine had swept past, leaving Fred, +trembling from head to foot, staring stupidly into a cloud of dust ... +He had not even glimpsed the occupants! But his failure to achieve +whatever vague plan was buffeting him about drove him back to San +Francisco. His confused mind had worked with the rational capacity for +details which characterizes madness. He knew that Hilmer must wait for +the automobile ferry...that the regular passenger boat would reach the +other side at least a half hour in advance. + +He had been prepared this time for the appearance of Hilmer's car. It +came off the boat preceded by a thin line of automobiles, moving +slowly. ... For a moment he wondered how he would achieve his purpose, +and the next thing he knew he had leaped aboard the running board... +He remembered long after that his wife had given a cry, that Mrs. +Hilmer had stirred ever so slightly, that Hilmer's eyes had widened. +Then out of a tense moment of suppressed confusion he had heard his +wife's voice floating toward him as she said: + +"Ah, then you were not drowned, after all!" + +With amazing effrontery he threw open the door and pressed down the +emergency seat opposite her. + +"No... I swam out of that black pool!" + +A slight tremor ran through her. Mrs. Hilmer smiled. + +Recalling the scene, he remembered how outwardly commonplace were the +moments which followed. Even Hilmer had been surprised into +banalities. Fred Starratt might have parted with them but yesterday, +for any indications to the contrary, and for an instant he had found +all sense of tragedy swallowed up in amazement at the passive tenacity +of the conventions. + +But sitting there, facing this trio, each busy with his own swift +thought, it gradually dawned upon Fred Starratt that now they were +afraid of him. Like a captured and blinded Samson he was in a position +to bring the temple walls crashing down upon them all. _They_ might +elect to be silent, but what a voice _he_ could raise!... He had come +out of a chuckling silence to hear Hilmer saying between almost shut +teeth: + +"I suppose you'll be needing money now, Starratt... Railroad rates +have all been raised." + +He felt at that moment the same triumph as when Storch had turned the +key in its lock... Hilmer always did walk directly to his objective +... but there were times when subtleties had more power. He remembered +the quiet thrust of his own voice measuring his adversary's +expectancy: + +"A man in my situation needs nothing, Hilmer ... least of all +_money_!" + +He never forgot the look of contempt which Hilmer threw at him ... but +this time it had been a contempt for the unfathomable. Helen's face +was white; only Mrs. Hilmer had continued to smile ... a set, ghastly, +cruel smile of complete satisfaction. And, in the silence which +followed, it was Mrs. Hilmer's voice that brought them all back with a +start as she said: + +"Well, here we are ... home again!" + +It was the same voice that had broken in upon another tense situation +months before with: + +"What nice corn pudding this is, Mrs. Starratt...Would you mind +telling me how you made it?" + +Had they been moving in a circle since that fatal evening, Fred had +found himself wondering...or had he merely been dreaming? + +The scene which followed had been unforgetable--the chauffeur and +Hilmer lifting Mrs. Hilmer into her wheeled chair; Helen Starratt +coming forward considerately with a steamer rug for the invalid's +comfort; Fred, standing outside the pale of all this activity like a +dreamer constructing stage directions for the puppets of his +imagination. And out of the almost placid atmosphere of domestic +bustle the voice of Mrs. Hilmer again breaking the stillness, this +time with a cool and knifelike precision as she said, turning her +pale, icy eyes on Helen Starratt: + +"My dear, your nurse-girl days are over...We've had you a long time +and we can't be too selfish--now that your husband is back!" + +Could Fred ever wipe from his memory the startled look which had swept +Helen's face as she released her hold on the wheeled chair? Or the +diabolical content with which Mrs. Hilmer settled back as she went on +slowly, clearly, as if the steady drip of her words fascinated her: + +"You wouldn't want to stay here...this is no place for lovers...And, +besides, there isn't room for _two_!" + +Helen's hands had fallen inertly at her sides as she stood facing +Hilmer, as if waiting for his decision. But he had made no move, he +merely had returned her gaze in equal silence. At that moment Mrs. +Hilmer's clawlike fingers closed over her husband's mangled thumb with +a clutch of triumph and she had turned with a painful twist to dart +her venomous scorn at Helen. A fortnight ago the doctors had given +Mrs. Hilmer a scant six months of life. But now Fred Starratt knew +that she would live as long as her spirits had vengeance to feed upon. + +Thus had the door closed upon Hilmer and his crippled gaoler. Already +Helen Starratt had gained the street corner. Fred was seized with an +impulse to overtake her, but it had died as quickly. There was nothing +he could offer ... not even a lodging for the night. Instead he had +turned and walked briskly in an opposite direction. + + * * * * * + +As he drew nearer town the cries of the newsboys grew more insistent +... so insistent that Fred bought a paper. By this time they had +cleared away the charred wreckage of Storch's shack, discovering the +secret which its ruins had concealed. He found himself wondering how +soon they would link him with the still-born plot which had achieved +so much tragedy in spite of its miscarriage. Of Ginger there was +little trace. She had been caught up in a winding sheet of flame, a +chariot of fire which had swept clean her pitiful and outraged body... +Again he saw her face, wistful in the glare of that portentous noon, +framed by the outline of Storch's doorway, heard himself call her name +in agony, and woke to find only a memory answering him. And there came +to him a realization of the terrible beauty of that moment which had +released her spirit in white-heated transfiguration. + +A sudden pity for the living began to well up within him ... for +Hilmer in the relentless grip of the harpy who would tear at his +content with her scrawny fingers ... for Mrs. Hilmer, condemned to +feed to the end upon the bitter fruits of hatred ... for his wife, +drifting to a pallid fate made up of petty adjustments and +compromises. Yes ... he found himself pitying Helen Starratt most of +all. Because he had a feeling that she would go on to the end cloaking +her primitive impulses in a curious covering of self-deception. She +would never understand ... never! She would always be restless, +straining at the conventions, but unable or unwilling to pay the price +of full freedom. And her remaining days would be spent in a futile +pulling at the chains which her own cowardice had forged. She would +not even have the memory of bitter-sweet delights. + +He came from these musings to discover that his feet had strayed +instinctively to the old garden which provoked the memory of his +father and mother. But he found it destroyed utterly ... its prim beds +swept aside to make way for a huge apartment house. The last +intangible link which had bound him to his old life had been +destroyed. + +He turned away, almost with a feeling of relief--the past was forever +dead, burying itself in its own tragic oblivion. He climbed higher, to +the topmost point of the Hyde Street Hill, up the steps leading to the +reservoir. It was another night of provocative perfumes and promissory +warmths. He skirted the sun-baked slopes, sown with blossoming +alfalfa, and came upon a clump of wind-tortured acacia bushes facing +the west. He threw himself down and lay in a sweet physical truce, +gazing up at the twinkling sky. He was alone with the night, he had +not even a disciple to betray him. + +He knew that if he willed it so he could be up and off, forever +eluding, forever flaunting the law's ubiquitous presence. The sharp +urge for subtle revenge which had come with realization of his power +had passed, but he was done with any and all compromises, he had no +heart for the decaying fruits of deception. + +Would they find him here wrapped in the cool fragrance of the night, +or must he go down to them, yielding himself up silently and without +bitterness? He had touched life at every point. He could say, now, +with Hilmer: + +"I know all the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact!" + +Yes, even to murder. + +And with Storch he could repeat: + +"A man who's been through hell is like a field broken to the plow. +He's ready for seed." + +He _was_ ready for seed, so freshly and deeply broken that he had a +passion to lie fallow against a worthy sowing. + +Presently, enveloped in the perfect and childlike faith which follows +revelation, he slept, with his face turned toward the stars. And as he +stirred ever so slightly he felt the nearness of two souls. Clearly +and more clearly they defined themselves until he knew them for those +two erring companions of his misery who had been made suddenly perfect +in the crucible of sorrow and sacrifice. They came toward him in a +white, silent beauty, until on one side stood Felix Monet and on the +other Sylvia Molineaux. + +And before him in review passed a motley company of every tragic group +that he had ever known--business associates, jailbirds, the inmates of +Fairview, Storch's terrible companions. He recognized each group in +its turn by their outer trappings. But suddenly their clothes melted +and even their flesh dissolved, and he saw nothing but a company of +skeletons stripped of all unessentials, and he could no longer mark +them apart. And, in a flash, even these unmarked figures crumbled to +dust, spreading out like a sunlit plain at noonday. And he saw clouds +gather and rain fall and green blades spring up miraculously and +blossom succeed blossom. And through it all Felix Monet stood on one +side and Sylvia Molineaux on the other. + +He awoke to the vigorous prod of a contemptuous boot. A policeman +stood over him. + +"What are you doing here?" the officer bellowed down at him. + +He rose quickly. The sun was bathing the rejuvenated city in a flood +of wonderful gold. + +"My name is Fred Starratt," he said, quietly. "And I'm wanted for +murder ... and some other things. You'd better take me down." + +The policeman grasped his arm and together they made their way down to +the level stretches of the paved street. + +They stood for a moment to let a street car swing past. It was crowded +with clerks, standing on the running board. Above the warning clang of +the bell a voice came ringing out with a note of surprised +recognition: + +"Hello, Fred Starratt! What's new?" + +He made a trumpet with his hands. + +"Everything!" he cried back, loudly. "_Everything in the world_!" + + + + +THE END + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Broken to the Plow, by Charles Caldwell Dobie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROKEN TO THE PLOW *** + +***** This file should be named 13178-8.txt or 13178-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/1/7/13178/ + +Produced by Keith M. Eckrich and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreaders Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/13178-8.zip b/old/13178-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f12988 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13178-8.zip diff --git a/old/13178.txt b/old/13178.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83b02c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13178.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9086 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Broken to the Plow, by Charles Caldwell Dobie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Broken to the Plow + +Author: Charles Caldwell Dobie + +Release Date: August 14, 2004 [EBook #13178] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROKEN TO THE PLOW *** + + + + +Produced by Keith M. Eckrich and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreaders Team + + + + + + +BROKEN TO THE PLOW + +A Novel by + +CHARLES CALDWELL DOBIE + +_Author of_ "THE BLOOD RED DAWN" + + + +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + +NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + * * * * * + +Printed in the United States of America + +TO MY BROTHER +Who Helped Make My Literary Career Possible. + + + + +BROKEN TO THE PLOW + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Fred Starratt remembered that he +had been commissioned by his wife to bring home oyster cocktails for +dinner. Of course, it went without saying that he was expected to +attend to the cigars. That meant he must touch old Wetherbee for +money. Five dollars would do the trick, but, while he was about it, he +decided that he might as well ask for twenty-five. There were bound to +be other demands before the first of the month, and the hard-fisted +cashier of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. seemed to grow more and more crusty +over drafts against the salary account. If one caught him in a good +humor it was all right. Usually a _risque_ story was the safest road +to geniality. Starratt raked his brains for a new one, to no purpose. +Every moment of delay added greater certainty to the conviction that +he was in for a disagreeable encounter. At four o'clock Wetherbee +always began to balance his cash for the day and he was particularly +vicious at any interruptions during this precise performance. What in +the world had possessed Helen to give this absurd dinner party to two +people Starratt had never met? At least she might have put the thing +off until pay day, when money was more plentiful. + +How did others manage? Starratt asked himself. Because there was a +small minority in the office who received their full month's salary +without a break during the entire year. Take young Brauer, for +instance. He got a little over a hundred a month and yet he never +seemed short. He dressed well, too--or neatly, to be nearer the truth; +there was no great style to his make-up. Of course, Brauer was not +married, but Starratt could never remember a time, even before he took +the plunge into matrimony, when he was not going through the motions +of smoothing old Wetherbee into a good-humored acceptance of an IOU +tag. Starratt did not think himself extravagant, and it always had +puzzled him to observe how free some of his salaried friends were with +their coin. Only that morning his wife had reflected his own mood with +exaggerated petulancy when she had said: + +"I'm sure I don't know where all the money goes! We don't spend it on +cafes, and we haven't a car, and goodness knows I only buy what I have +to when it comes down to clothes." + +What she _had_ to! He thought over the phrase not with any desire to +put Helen in the pillory, but merely to uncover, if possible, the +source of their economic ills. + +In days gone by, when his mother was alive, he had heard almost the +same remark leveled at his father: + +"Well, I suppose _some_ people could save on our income. But we've got +to be decent--we can't go about in rags!" + +He knew from long experience just the sort his mother had meant by the +term "some people." Brauer was a case in point. Mrs. Starratt always +spoke of such as he with lofty tolerance. + +"Oh, of course, _foreigners_ always get on! They're accustomed to live +that way!" + +Fred Starratt had not altogether accepted his mother's philosophy that +everybody lacking the grace of an Anglo-Saxon or Scotch name was a +foreigner. There were times when he was given to wonder vaguely why +the gift of "getting on" had been given to "foreigners" and denied +him. Once in a while he rebelled against the implied gentility which +had been wished on him. Were rags necessary to achieve economy? +Granting the premises, in moments of rare revolt he became hospitable +to any contingency that would free him from the ever-present +humiliation of an empty purse. + +He soon had learned that the term "rags" was a mere figure of speech, +which stood for every pretense offered up as a sacrifice upon the +altar of appearances. His mother had never been a spendthrift and +certainly one could not convict Helen on such a charge. But they both +had one thing in common--they "had to have things" for almost any and +every occasion. If a trip were planned or a dancing party arranged or +a tea projected--well, one simply couldn't go looking like a fright, +and that was all there was to it. His father never thought to argue +such a question. Women folks had to have clothes, and so he accepted +the situation with the philosophy born of bowing gracefully to the +inevitable. But Starratt himself occasionally voiced a protest. + +"Nothing to wear?" he would echo, incredulously. "Why, how about that +pink dress? That hasn't worn out yet." + +"No, that's just it! It simply won't! I'm sick and tired of putting it +on. Everybody knows it down to the last hook and eye... Oh, well, I'll +stay home. It isn't a matter of life and death. I've given things up +before." + +When a woman took that tone of martyrdom there really was nothing to +do but acknowledge defeat. Other men were able to provide frocks for +their wives and he supposed he ought to be willing to do the same +thing. There was an element of stung pride in his surrender. He had +the ingrained Californian's distaste for admitting, even to himself, +that there was anything he could not afford. And in the end it was +this feeling rising above the surface of his irritation which made him +a bit ashamed of his attitude toward Helen's dinner party. After all, +it would be the same a thousand years from now. A man couldn't have +his cake and eat it, and a man like Brauer must live a dull sort of +life. What could be the use of saving money if one forgot how to spend +it in the drab process? As a matter of fact, old Wetherbee wouldn't +gobble him. He'd grunt or grumble or even rave a bit, but in the end +he would yield up the money. He always did. And suddenly, while his +courage had been so adroitly screwed to the sticking point, he went +over to old Wetherbee's desk without further ado. + +The cashier was absorbed in adding several columns of figures and he +let Starratt wait. This was not a reassuring sign. Finally, when he +condescended to acknowledge the younger man's presence he did it with +the merest uplift of the eyebrows. Starratt decided at once against +pleasantries. Instead, he matched Wetherbee's quizzical pantomime by +throwing the carefully written IOU tag down on the desk. + +Wetherbee tossed the tag aside. "You got twenty-five dollars a couple +of days ago!" he bawled out suddenly. + +Starratt was surprised into silence. Old Wetherbee was sometimes given +to half-audible and impersonal grumblings, but this was the first time +he had ever gone so far as to voice a specific objection to an appeal +for funds. + +"What do you think this is?" Wetherbee went on in a tone loud enough +to be heard by all the office force. "The Bank of England?... I've got +something else to do besides advance money every other day to a bunch +of joy-riding spendthrifts. In my day a young man ordered his +expenditures to suit his pocketbook. We got our salary once a month +and we saw to it that it lasted... What's the matter--somebody sick at +home?" + +Starratt could easily have lied and closed the incident quickly, but +an illogical pride stirred him to the truth. + +"No," he returned, quietly, "I'm simply short. We're having some +company in for dinner and there are a few things to get--cigars +and--well, you know what." + +Wetherbee threw him a lip-curling glance. "Cigars? Well, twopenny +clerks do keep up a pretty scratch and no mistake. In my day--" + +Starratt cut him short with an impatient gesture. + +"Times have changed, Mr. Wetherbee." + +"Yes, I should say they have," the elder man sneered, as he reached +for the key to the cash drawer. + +For a moment Starratt felt an enormous relief at the old man's +significant movement. He was to get the money, after all! But almost +at once he was moved to sudden resentment. What right had Wetherbee to +humiliate him before everybody within earshot? He knew that the eyes +of the entire force were being leveled at him, and he felt a surge of +satisfaction as he said, very distinctly: + +"Don't bother, Mr. Wetherbee... It really doesn't make the slightest +difference. I'll manage somehow." + +Old Wetherbee shrugged and went on adding figures. Starratt felt +confused. The whole scene had fallen flat. His suave heroics had not +even made Wetherbee feel cheap. He went back to his desk. + +Presently a hand rested upon his shoulder. He knew Brauer's fawning, +almost apologetic, touch. He turned. + +"If you're short--" Brauer was whispering. + +Starratt hesitated. Deep down he never had liked Brauer; in fact, he +always had just missed snubbing him. Still it was decent of Brauer +to... + +"That's very kind, I'm sure. Could you give me--say, five dollars?" + +Brauer thrust two lean, bloodless fingers into his vest pocket and +drew out a crisp note. + +"Thanks, awfully," Starratt said, quickly, as he reached for the +money. + +Brauer's face lit up with a swift glow of satisfaction. Starratt +almost shrank back. He felt a clammy hand pressing the bill against +his palm. + +"Thanks, awfully," he murmured again. + +Brauer dropped his eyes with a suggestion of unpleasant humility. + +"I wish," flashed through Starratt's mind, "that I had asked for ten +dollars." + + * * * * * + +As Fred Starratt came down the steps leading from the California +Market with a bottle of oyster cocktails held gingerly before him he +never remembered when he had been less in the mood for guests. A +passing friend invited him to drop down for a drink at Collins & +Wheeland's, but the state of his finances urged a speedy flight home +instead. At this hour the California Street cars were crowded, but he +managed to squeeze into a place on the running board. He always +enjoyed the glide of this old-fashioned cable car up the stone-paved +slope of Nob Hill, and even the discomfort of a huddled foothold was +more than discounted by the ability to catch backward glimpses of city +and bay falling away in the slanting gold of an early spring twilight +like some enchanted and fabulous capital. + +At Hyde Street he changed cars, continuing his homeward flight in the +direction of Russian Hill. He prided himself on the fact that he still +clung to one of the old quarters of the town, scorning the outlying +districts with all the disdain of a San Franciscan born and bred of +pioneer stock. He liked to be within easy walking distance of work, +and only a trifle over fifteen minutes from the shops and cafes and +theaters. And his present quarters in a comparatively new apartment +house just below the topmost height of Green Street answered these +wishes in every particular. + +On the Hyde Street car he found a seat, and, without the distraction +of maintaining his foothold or the diversion of an unfolding panorama, +his thoughts turned naturally on his immediate problems. The five +dollars had gone a ridiculously small way. Four oyster cocktails came +to a dollar and a quarter, and he had to have at least six cigars at +twenty-five cents apiece. This left him somewhat short of the maid's +wage of three dollars for cooking and serving dinner and washing up +the dishes. If Helen had engaged Mrs. Finn, everything would be all +right. She knew them and she would wait. Still, he didn't like putting +anybody off--he was neither quite too poor nor quite too affluent to +be nonchalant in his postponement of obligations. + +When he arrived home he found that Helen had been having her troubles, +too. Mrs. Finn had disappointed her and sent a frowsy female, who +exuded vile whisky and the unpleasant odors of a slattern. + +"I think she's half drunk," Helen had confessed, brutally. "You can't +depend on anyone these days. Servants are getting so independent!" + +The roast had been delivered late, too, and when Helen had called up +the shop to protest she had been met with cool insolence. + +"I told the boy who talked to me that I'd report him to the boss. And +what do you suppose he said? 'Go as far as you like! We're all going +out on a strike next week, so we should worry!' Fancy a butcher +talking like that to me! I don't know what things are coming to." + +Frankly, neither did Fred Starratt, but he held his peace. He was +thinking just where he would gather enough money together to pay Mrs. +Finn's questionable substitute. + +The guests arrived shortly and there were the usual stiff, bromidic +greetings. Mrs. Hilmer had been presented to Fred first ... a little, +spotless, homey Scandinavian type, who radiated competent housekeeping +and flawless cooking. The Starratts had once had just such a +shining-faced body for a neighbor--a woman who ran up the back stairs +during the dinner hour with a bit of roasted chicken or a pan of +featherweight pop-overs or a dish of crumbly cookies for the children. +Mrs. Starratt, senior, had acknowledged her neighbor's culinary merits +ungrudgingly, tempering her enthusiasm, however, with a swift dab of +criticism directed at the lady's personality. + +"My, but isn't she Dutch, though!" frequently had escaped her. + +Somehow the characterization had struck Fred Starratt as very apt even +in his younger days. And as he shook hands with Mrs. Hilmer these same +words came to mind. + +Hilmer disturbed him. He was a huge man with a rather well-chiseled +face, considering his thickness of limb, and his blond hair fell in an +untidy shower about his prominent and throbbing temples. Fred felt him +to be a man without any inherited social graces, yet he contrived to +appear at ease. Was it because he was disposed to let the women +chatter? No, that could not account for his acquired suavity, for +silence is very often much more awkward than even clumsy attempts at +speech. + +As the dinner progressed, Fred Starratt began to wonder just what had +tempted Helen to arrange this little dinner party for the Hilmers. +When she had broached the matter, her words had scarcely conveyed +their type. A woman who had helped his wife out at the Red Cross +Center during the influenza epidemic could be of almost any pattern. +But immediately he had gauged her as one of his wife's own kind. Helen +and her women friends were not incompetent housewives, but their +efforts leaned rather to an escape from domestic drudgery than to a +patient yielding to its yoke. If they discussed housekeeping at all, +it was with reference to some new labor-saving device flashing across +the culinary horizon. But Mrs. Hilmer's conversation thrilled with the +pride of her gastronomic achievements without any reference to the +labor involved. She invested her estate as housekeeper for her husband +with a commendable dignity. It appeared that she took an enormous +amount of pains with the simplest dishes. It was incredible, for +instance, how much thought and care and time went into a custard which +she described at great length for Helen's benefit. + +"But that takes hours and _hours_!" Helen protested. + +"But it's a real custard," Hilmer put in, dryly. + +Fred Starratt felt himself flushing. Hilmer's scant speech had the +double-edged quality of most short weapons. Could it be that his guest +was sneering by implication at the fare that Helen had provided? No, +that was hardly it, because Helen had provided good fare, even if she +had prepared most of it vicariously. Hilmer's covert disdain was more +impersonal, yet it remained every whit as irritating, for all that. +Perhaps a bit more so, since Fred Starratt found it hard to put a +finger on its precise quality. He had another taste of it later when +the inevitable strike gossip intruded itself. It was Helen who opened +up, repeating her verbal passage with the butcher. + +"They want eight hours a day and forty-five dollars a week," she +finished. "I call that ridiculous!" + +"Why?" asked Hilmer, abruptly. + +"For a butcher?" Helen countered, with pained incredulity. + +"How long does your husband work?" Hilmer went on, calmly. + +"I'm sure I don't know. How long do you work, Fred?" + +Starratt hesitated. "Let me see ... nine to twelve is three hours ... +one to five is four hours--seven in all." + +Hilmer smiled with cryptic irritation. "There you have it!... What's +wrong with a butcher wanting eight hours?" + +Helen shrugged. "Well, a butcher doesn't have to use his brains very +much!" she threw out, triumphantly. + +"And your husband does. I see!" + +Starratt winced. He felt his wife's eye turned expectantly upon him. +"Seven hours is a normal day's work," he put in, deciding to ignore +Hilmer's insolence, "but as an employer of an office force you must +know how much overtime the average clerk puts in. We're not afraid to +work a little bit more than we're paid for. We're thinking of +something else besides money." + +Hilmer buttered a roll. "What, for instance?" + +"Why, the firm's interest ... our own advancement, of course ... the +enlarged capacity that comes with greater skill and knowledge." He +leaned back in his seat with a self-satisfied smile. + +Hilmer laid down his butter knife very deliberately. "That's very well +put," he said; "very well put, indeed! And would you mind telling me +just what your duties are in the office where you work?" + +"I'm in the insurance business ... fire. We have a general agency here +for the Pacific coast. That means that all the subagents in the +smaller towns report the risks they have insured to us. I'm what they +call a map clerk. I enter the details of every risk on bound maps of +the larger towns which every insurance company is provided with. In +this way we know just how much we have at risk in any building, block, +or section of any city. And we are able to keep our liability within +proper limits." + +"You do this same thing ... for seven hours every day ... not to speak +of overtime?" + +"Yes." + +"And how long have you been doing this?" + +"About five years." + +"And how long will you continue to do it?" + +"God knows!" + +Hilmer rested both hands on the white cloth. They were shapely hands +in spite of their size, with healthy pink nails, except on a thumb and +forefinger, which had been badly mangled. "For five years you have +worked seven hours every day on this routine ... and in order to +enlarge your capacity and skill and knowledge you have worked many +hours overtime on this same routine, I suppose without any extra +pay... It seems to me that a man who only gets a chance to exercise +with dumb-bells might keep in condition, but he'd hardly grow more +skillful... Of course, that still leaves two theories intact--working +for your own advancement ... and the interest of your firm. I suppose +the advancement _has_ come, I suppose you've been paid for your +overtime ... in increased salary." + +Helen made a scornful movement. "If you call an increase of ten +dollars a month in two years an advancement," she ventured, bitterly. + +Starratt flushed. + +"That leaves only one excuse for overtime. And that excuse is usually +a lie. Why should you have the interest of your firm at heart when it +does nothing for you beyond what it is forced to do?" + +Fred Starratt bared his teeth in sudden snapping anger. "Well, and +what do _you_ do, Mr. Hilmer, for your clerks?" + +"Nothing ... absolutely nothing ... unless they demand it. And even +then it's only the exceptional man who can force me into a corner. The +average clerk in any country is like a gelded horse. He's been robbed +of his power by education ... of a sort. He's a reasonable, rational, +considerate beast that can be broken to any harness." + +"What do you want us to do? Go on a strike and heave bricks into your +plate-glass window?... What would you do in our place?" + +"I wouldn't be there, to begin with. I've heaved bricks in my day." He +leaned forward, exhibiting his smashed thumb and forefinger. "I killed +the man who did that to me. I was born in a Norwegian fishing village +and after a while I followed the sea. That's a good school for action. +And what education you get is thrashed into you. The little that +sticks doesn't do much more than toughen you. And if you don't want +any more it does well enough. Later on, if you have a thirst for +knowledge, you drink the brand you pick yourself and it doesn't go to +your head. Now with you ... you didn't have any choice. You drank up +what they handed out and, at the age when you could have made a +selection, your taste was formed ... by _others_... I don't mind +people kicking at the man who works with his hands if they know what +they're talking about. But most of them don't. They get the thing +second hand. They're chock full of loyalty to superiors and systems +and governments, just from habit... I've worked with my hands, and +I've fought for a half loaf of bread with a dirk knife, and I know all +the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact. So when I disagree +with the demands of the men who build my vessels I know why I'm +disagreeing. And I usually do disagree ... because if they've got guts +enough in them they'll fight. And I like a good fight. That's why +potting clerks is such a tame business. It's almost as sickening as a +rabbit drive." + +He finished with a gesture of contempt and reached for his goblet of +water. + +Starratt decided not to dodge the issue; if Hilmer wished to throw any +further mud he was perfectly ready to stand up and be the target. + +"Well, and what's the remedy for stiffening the backbone of my sort?" +he asked, with polite insolence. + +"Stiffening the backbone of the middle class is next to impossible. +They've been bowing and scraping until there's a permanent kink in +their backs!" + +"The 'middle class'?" Helen echoed, incredulously. + +Hilmer was smiling widely. There was a strange, embarrassed silence. +Starratt was the first to recover himself. "Why, of course!... Why +not? You didn't think we belonged to any other class, did you?" + +It was Mrs. Hilmer who changed the subject. "What nice corn pudding +this is, Mrs. Starratt! Would you mind telling me how you made it?" + +Hostilities ceased with the black coffee, and in the tiny living room +Hilmer grew almost genial. His life had been varied and he was rather +proud of it--that is, he was proud of the more sordid details, which +he recounted with an air of satisfaction. He liked to dwell on his +poverty, his lack of opportunity, his scant education. He had the +pride of his achievements, and he was always eager to throw them into +sharper relief by dwelling upon the depths from which he had sprung. +He had his vulgarities, of course, but it was amazing how well +selected they were--the vulgarities of simplicity rather than of +coarseness. And while he talked he moved his hands unusually for a man +of northern blood, revealing the sinister thumb and forefinger, which +to Fred Starratt grew to be a symbol of his guest's rough-hewn power. +Hilmer was full of raw-boned stories of the sea and he had the +seafarer's trick of vivid speech. Even Helen Starratt was absorbed ... +a thing unusual for her. At least in her husband's hearing she always +disclaimed any interest in the brutalities. She never read about +murders or the sweaty stories in the human-interest columns of the +paper or the unpleasant fictioning of realists. Her excuse was the +threadbare one that a trivial environment always calls forth, "There +are enough unpleasant things in life without reading about them!" + +The unpleasant things in Helen Starratt's life didn't go very far +beyond half-tipsy maids and impertinent butcher boys. + +Hilmer's experiences were not quite in the line of drawing-room +anecdotes, and Starratt had seen the time when his wife would have +recoiled from them with the disdainful grace of a feline shaking +unwelcome moisture from its paws. But to-night she drew her dark +eyebrows together tensely and let her thin, vivid lips part with frank +eagerness. Her interest flamed her with a new quality. Fred Starratt +had always known that his wife was attractive; he would not have +married her otherwise; but, as she leaned forward upon the arm of her +chair, resting her elbows upon an orange satin pillow, he saw that she +was handsome. And, somehow, the realization vaguely disturbed him. + +Hilmer's stories of prosperity were not so moving. From a penniless +emigrant in New York until he had achieved the distinction of being +one of the leading shipbuilders of the Pacific coast, his narrative +steadily dwindled in power, the stream of his life choked with +stagnant scum of good fortune. Indeed, he grew so dull that Helen +Starratt, stifling a yawn, said: + +"If it's not too personal ... won't you please tell us ... about ... +about the man you killed for smashing your thumb?" + +He laughed with charming naivete, and began at once. But it was all +disappointingly simple. It had happened aboard ship. A hulking Finn, +one of the crew's bullies, had accused Hilmer of stealing his tobacco. +A scuffle followed, blows, blood drawn. Upon the slippery deck Hilmer +had fallen prone in an attempt to place a swinging blow. The Finn had +seized this opportunity and flung a bit of pig iron upon Hilmer's +sprawling right hand. Hilmer had leaped to his feet at once and, +seizing the bar of iron in his dripping fingers, had crushed the +bully's head with one sure, swift blow. + +"He fell face downward ... his head split open like a rotten melon." + +Helen Starratt shuddered. "How ... how perfectly fascinating!" escaped +her. + +Starratt stared. He had never seen his wife so kindled with morbid +excitement. + +"I ... I thought you didn't like to hear unpleasant stories," he threw +at her, disagreeably. + +She tossed the flaming cushion, upon which she had been leaning, into +a corner, a certain insolence in her quick gesture. + +"I don't like to _read_ about them," she retorted, and she turned a +wanton smile in the direction of Hilmer. + +At this juncture the maid opened the folding doors between the dining +room and the living room. She had on her hat and coat, and, as she +retreated to the kitchen, Helen Starratt flashed a significant look at +her husband. + +He followed the woman reluctantly. When he entered the kitchen she was +leaning against the sink, smoothing on a pair of faded silk gloves. + +"I'm sorry," he began, awkwardly, "but I forgot to cash a check +to-day. How much do you charge?" + +The woman's hands flew instinctively to her hips as she braced herself +into an attitude of defiance. + +"Three dollars!" she snapped. "And my car fare." + +He searched his pockets and held out a palm filled with silver for her +inspection. "I've just got two forty," he announced, apologetically. +"You see, we usually have Mrs. Finn. She knows us and I felt sure +she'd wait until next time. If you give me your address I can send you +the difference to-morrow." + +She tossed back her head. "Nothing doing!" she retorted. "I don't give +a damn what you thought. I want my money now or, by Gawd, I'll start +something!" + +Her voice had risen sharply. Starratt was sure that everybody could +hear. + +"I haven't got three dollars," he insisted, in a low voice. "Can't you +see that I haven't?" + +"Ask your wife, then." + +"She hasn't a cent... I should have cashed a check to-day, but I +forgot... You forget things sometimes, don't you?" + +He was conscious that his voice had drawn out in a snuffling appeal, +but he simply had to placate this female ogress in some way. + +"Ask your swell friends, then." + +"Why, I can't do that... I don't know them well enough. This is the +first time--" + +She cut him short with a snap of her ringers. "You don't know me, +either ... and I don't know you. That's the gist of the whole thing. +If you can ask a strange woman who's done an honest night's work to +wait for her money, you can ask a strange man to lend you sixty +cents... And, what's more, I'll wait right here until you do!" + +"Well, wait then!" he flung out, suddenly, as he pocketed the silver. + +He kicked open the swinging door and gained the dining room. She +followed close upon his heels. + +"Oh, I know your kind!" he heard her spitting out at him. "You're a +cheap skate trying to put up a front! But you won't get by with me, +not if I know it!... You come through with three dollars or I'll wreck +this joint!" + +A crash followed her harangue. Starratt turned. A tray of Haviland +cups and saucers lay in a shattered heap upon the floor. + +He raised a threatening finger at her. "Will you be good enough to +leave this house!" he commanded. + +She thrust a red-knuckled fist into his face. "Not much I won't!" she +defied him, swinging her head back and forth. + +He fell back sharply. What was he to do? He couldn't kick her out... +He heard a chair scraped back noisily upon the hardwood floor of the +living room. Presently Hilmer stood at his side. + +"Let me handle her!" Hilmer said, quietly. + +Starratt gave a gesture of assent. + +His guest took one stride toward the obstreperous female. "Get out! +Understand?" + +She stopped the defiant seesawing of her head. + +"Wot in hell..." she was beginning, but her voice suddenly broke into +tearful blubbering. "I'm a poor, lone widder woman--" + +He took her arm and gave her a significant shove. + +"Get out!" he repeated, with brief emphasis. + +She cast a look at him, half despair and half admiration. He pointed +to the door. She went. + +Hilmer laughed and regained the living room. Starratt hesitated. + +"I guess I'd better pick up the mess," he said, with an attempt at +nonchalance. + +Nobody made any reply. He bent over the litter. Above the faint tinkle +of shattered porcelain dropping upon the lacquered tray he heard his +wife's voice cloying the air with unpleasant sweetness as she said: + +"Oh yes, Mr. Hilmer, you were telling us about the time you fought a +man with a dirk knife ... for a half loaf of bread." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When the Hilmers left, about half past eleven, Starratt went down to +the curb with them, on the pretext of looking at Hilmer's new car. It +proved to be a very late and very luxurious model. + +"Is it insured?" asked Starratt, as he lifted Mrs. Hilmer in. + +"What a hungry bunch you insurance men are!" Hilmer returned. "You're +the fiftieth man that's asked me that." + +Starratt flushed. The business end of his suggestion had been the last +thing in his mind. He managed to voice a commonplace protest, and +Hilmer, taking his place at the wheel, said: + +"Come in and talk it over sometime... Perhaps _you_ can persuade me." + +Starratt smiled pallidly and the car shot forward. He watched it out +of sight. Instead of going back into the house he walked aimlessly +down the block. He had no objective beyond a desire to kill the time +and give Helen a chance to retire before he returned. He wasn't in a +mood for talking. + +It was not an unusual thing for him to take a stroll before turning +in, and habit led him along a beaten path. He always found it +fascinating to dip down the Hyde Street hill toward Lombard Street, +where he could glimpse both the bay and the opposite shore. Then, he +liked to pass the old-fashioned gardens spilling the mingled scent of +heliotrope and crimson sage into the lap of night. There was something +fascinating and melancholy about this venerable quarter that had been +spared the ravages of fire ... overlooked, as it were, by the +relentless flames, either in pity or contempt. There had been +marvelous tales concerning this section's escape from the holocaust of +1906, when San Francisco had been shaken by earthquake and shriveled +by flames. One house had been saved by a crimson flood of wine +siphoned from its fragrant cellar, another by pluck and a garden hose, +a third by quickly hewn branches of eucalyptus and cypress piled +against the outside walls as a screen to the blistering heat. Trees +and hedges and climbing honeysuckle had contributed, no doubt, to the +defense of these relics of a more genial day, but the dogged +determination of their owners to save their old homes at any cost must +have been the determining factor, Starratt had often thought, as he +lingered before the old picket fences, in an attempt to revive his +memories of other days. He could not remember, of course, quite back +to the time when the Hyde Street hill had been in an opulent heyday, +but the flavor of its quality had trickled through to his generation. +This was the section where his mother had languished in the prim gloom +of her lamp-shaded parlor before his father's discreet advances. The +house was gone ... replaced by a bay-windowed, jig-sawed horror of the +'80s, but the garden still smiled, its quaint fragrance reenforced at +the proper season by the belated blossoms of a homesick and +wind-bitten magnolia. He was sure, judged by present-day standards, +that his mother's old home must have been a very modest, genial sort +of place ... without doubt a clapboard, two-storied affair with a +single wide gable and a porch running the full length of the front. +But, in a day when young and pretty women were at a premium, one did +not have to live in a mansion to attract desirable suitors, and Fred +Starratt had often heard his mother remind his father without +bitterness of the catches that had been thrown her way. Not that +Starratt, senior, had been a bad prospect matrimonially. Quite the +contrary. He had come from Boston in the early '70s, of good +substantial family, and with fair looks and a capacity for getting on. +Likewise, a chance for inside tips on the stock market, since he had +elected to go in with a brokerage firm. And so they were married, with +all of conservative San Francisco at the First Unitarian Church to see +the wedding, leavened by a sprinkling of the very rich and a dash of +the ultrafashionable. Unfortunately, the inside tips didn't pan out +... absurd and dazzling fortune was succeeded by appalling and +irretrievable failure. Starratt, senior, was too young a man to +succumb to the scurvy trick of fate, but he never quite recovered. +Gradually the Starratt family fell back a pace. To the last there were +certain of the old guard who still remembered them with bits of +coveted pasteboard for receptions or marriages or anniversary +celebrations ... but the Starratts became more and more a memory +revived by sentiment and less and less a vital reality. + +Fred Starratt used to speculate, during his nocturnal wandering among +the shadows of his parents' youthful haunts, just what his position +would have been had these stock-market tips proved gilt edged. He +tried to imagine himself the master of a splendid estate down the +peninsula--preferably at Hillsboro--possessed of high-power cars and a +string of polo ponies ... perhaps even a steam yacht... But these +dazzling visions were not always in the ascendant. There were times +when a philanthropic dream moved him more completely and he had naive +and varied speculations concerning the help that he could have placed +in the way of the less fortunate had he been possessed of unlimited +means. Or, again, his hypothetical wealth put him in the way of the +education that placed him easily at the top of a stirring profession. + +"If I'd only had half a chance!" would escape him. + +This was a phrase borrowed unconsciously from his mother. She was +never bitter nor resentful at their profitless tilt with fortune +except as it had reacted on her son. + +"You should have gone to college," she used to insist, regretfully, +summing up by implication his lack of advancement. At first he took a +measure of comfort in her excuse; later he came to be irritated by it. +And in moments of truant self-candor he admitted he could have made +the grade with concessions to pride. There were plenty of youths who +worked their way through. But he always had moved close to the edge of +affluent circles, where he had caught the cold but disturbing glow of +their standards. He left high school with pallid ideals of gentility, +ideals that expressed themselves in his reasons for deciding to enter +an insurance office. Insurance, he argued, was a _nice_ business, one +met _nice_ people, one had _nice_ hours, one was placed in _nice_ +surroundings. He had discovered later that one drew a _nice_ salary, +too. Well, at least, he had had the virtue of choosing without a very +keen eye for the financial returns. + +Ten years of being married to a woman who demanded a _nice_ home and +_nice_ clothes and a circle of _nice_ friends had done a great deal +toward making him a little skeptical about the soundness of his +standards. But his moments of uncertainty were few and fleeting, +called into life by such uncomfortable circumstances as touching old +Wetherbee for money or putting his tailor off when the date for his +monthly dole fell due. He had never been introspective enough to quite +place himself in the social scale, but when, in his thought or +conversation, he referred to people of the _better class_ he +unconsciously included himself. He was not a drunken, disorderly, or +radical member of society, and he didn't black boots, or man a ship, +or sell people groceries, or do any of the things that were done in +overalls and a soft shirt, therefore it went without saying that he +belonged to the better class. That was synonymous with admitting that +one kept one's ringer nails clean and used a pocket handkerchief. + +Suddenly, with the force of a surprise slap in the face, it had been +borne in upon him that he was not any of the fine things he imagined. +He was sure that his insolent guest, Hilmer, had not meant to be +disagreeable at the moment when he had said: + +"Stiffening the backbone of the _middle class_ is next to impossible!" + +"The middle class"! The phrase had brought up even Helen Starratt with +a round turn. One might have called them both peasants with equal +temerity. No, Hilmer had not made _that_ point consciously, and +therein lay its sting. + +To-night, as he accomplished his accustomed pilgrimage to the tangible +shrine of his ancestors, and stood leaning against the gate which +opened upon the garden that had smiled upon his mother's wooing, he +determined once and for all to establish his position in life... _Did_ +he belong to the middle class, and, granting the premises, was it a +condition from which one could escape or a fixed heritage that could +neither be abandoned nor denied? In a country that made flamboyant +motions toward democracy, he knew that the term was used in contempt, +if not reproach. Had the class itself brought on this disesteem? Did +it really exist and what defined it? Was it a matter of scant worldly +possessions, or commonplace brain force, or breeding, or just an +attitude of mind? Was it a term invented by the crafty to dash cold +water upon the potential unity of a scattered force? Was it a +scarecrow for frightening greedy and resourceful flocks from a +concerted assault upon the golden harvests of privilege?... The +questions submerged him in a swift flood. He did not know ... he could +not tell. Unaccustomed as he was to thinking in the terms of group +consciousness, he fell back, naturally, upon the personal aspects of +the case. He was sure of one thing--Hilmer's contempt and scorn. In +what class did Hilmer place himself? Above or below?... But the answer +came almost before it was framed--Hilmer looked _down_ upon him. That +almost told the story, but not quite. Had Hilmer climbed personally to +upper circles or had the strata in which he found himself embedded +been pushed up by the slow process of time? Had the term "middle +class" become a misnomer? Was it really on the lowest level now? +Perhaps it was ... perhaps it always had been... But so was the +foundation of any structure. Foundation?... The thought intrigued him, +but only momentarily. Who wanted to bear the crushing weight of +arrogant and far-flung battlements? + +He retraced his steps, his thoughts still busy with Hilmer. Here was a +typical case of what America could yield to the nature that had the +insolence to ravish her. America was still the tawny, primitive, +elemental jade who gave herself more readily to a rough embrace than a +soft caress. She reserved her favors for those who wrested them from +her...she had no patience with the soft delights of persuasion. It was +strange how much rough-hewn vitality had poured into her embrace from +the moth-eaten civilization of the Old World. Starratt was only a +generation removed from a people who had subdued a wilderness ... he +was not many generations removed from a people who wrestled naked with +God for a whole continent--that is, they had begun to wrestle; the +years that had succeeded found them still eager and shut-lipped for +the conflict. They had abandoned the struggle only when they had found +their victory complete. Naturally, soft days had followed. Was eternal +conflict the price of strength? Starratt found himself wondering. And +was he a product of these soft days, the rushing whirlwinds of Heaven +stilled, the land drowsy with the humid heat of a slothful noonday? He +had never thought of these things before. Even when he had thrilled to +the vision of line upon line of his comrades marching away to the +blood-soaked fields of France he had surrendered to a primitive +emotion untouched by the poetry of deep understanding. He thrilled not +because he knew that these people were doing the magnificent, the +decent thing ... but because he merely felt it. He had his faiths, but +he had not troubled to prove them ... he had not troubled even to +_doubt_ them. + +His disquiet sharpened all of his perceptions. He never remembered a +time when the cool fragrance of the night had fallen upon his senses +with such a personal caress. He had come out into its starlit presence +flushed with narrow, sordid indignation ... smarting under the trivial +lashes which insolence and circumstance had rained upon his vanity. +His walk in the dusky silence had not stilled his restlessness, but it +had given his impatience a larger scope ... and as he stood for one +last backward glimpse at the twinkling magnificence of this February +night he felt stirred by almost heroic rancors. The city lay before +him in crouched somnolence, ready to leap into life at the first flush +of dawn, and, in the chilly breath of virgin spring, little truant +warmths and provocative perfumes stirred the night with subtle +prophecies of summer. + +His exaltation persisted even after he had turned the key in his own +door to find the light still blazing, betraying the fact of Helen's +wakeful presence. He dallied over the triviality of hanging up his +hat. + +She was reading when he gained the threshold of the tiny living room. +At the sound of his footsteps she flung aside the magazine in her +hand. Her thick brows were drawn together in insolent impatience. + +"Oh," he exclaimed, inadequately, "I thought you'd be asleep!" + +"Asleep?" she queried, in a voice that cut him with its swift stroke. +"You didn't fancy that I could compose myself that quickly ... after +everything that's happened to-night ... did you? I've been humiliated +more than once in my life, but never quite so badly. Uncalled for, too +... that's the silly part of it." + +He stood motionless in the doorway. "I'm sorry I forgot the money," he +returned, dully. "But it's all past and gone now. And I think the +Hilmers understood." + +"Yes ... they understood. That's another humiliating thing." She +laughed tonelessly. "It must be amusing to watch people like us +attempting to be somebody and do something on an income that can't be +stretched far enough to pay a sloppy maid her wages." + +It was not so much what she said, but her manner that chilled him to +sudden cold anger. "Well ... you know our income, down to the last +penny... You know just how much I've overdrawn this month, too. Why do +you invite strangers to dinner under such conditions?" + +She rose, drawing herself up to an arrogant height. "I invite them for +_your_ sake," she said, with slow emphasis. "If you played your cards +well you might get in right with Hilmer. He's a big man." + +"Yes," he flung back, dryly, "and a damned insolent one, too." + +"He has his faults," she defended. "He's not polished, but he's +forceful." She turned a malevolent smile upon her husband. "When he +told that drunken servant girl to go, she went!" + +Starratt could feel the rush of blood dyeing his temples. "That's just +in his line!" he sneered. "He's taken degrading orders, and so he +knows how to give them... He may have money now, but he hasn't always +been so fortunate. I've been short of funds in my day, but I never +fought with a dirk for a half loaf of bread... You've heard the story +of his life... What has he got to make him proud?" + +"Just that ... he's pulled himself out of it. While we... Tell me, +where are we? Where will we be ten years from now?... Twenty? Why +aren't you doing something?... Everybody else is." + +He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Perhaps I am," he +said, quietly. "You don't know everything." + +She made a movement toward him. He stepped aside to let her pass. + +"What can _you_ do?" she taunted as she swept out of the room. + +He stood for a moment dazed at the sudden and unexpected budding of +her scorn. He heard her slam the door of the bedroom. He went over to +the chair from which she had risen and dropped into it, shading his +eyes. + +The clock in the hallway was chiming two when the bedroom door opened +again. + +"Aren't you coming to bed?" he heard his wife's voice call with sharp +irritation. + +"No," he answered. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was extraordinary how wide awake Fred Starratt felt next morning. +He was full of tingling reactions to the sharp chill of +disillusionment. At the breakfast table he met his wife's advances +with an air of tolerant aloofness. In the past, the first moves toward +adjusting a misunderstanding had come usually from him. He had an +aptitude for kindling the fires of domestic harmony, but he had +discovered overnight the futility of fanning a hearthstone blaze when +the flue was choked so completely. Before him lay the task of first +correcting the draught. Temporary genialities had no place in his +sudden, bleak speculations. Helen shirred his eggs to a turn, pressed +the second cup of coffee on him, browned him a fresh slice of toast +... he suffered her favors, but he was unmoved by them. They did not +even annoy him. When he kissed her good-by he felt the relaxation of +her body against his, as she stood for a moment languishing in +provocative surrender. He put her aside sharply. Her caress had a new +quality which irritated him. + +Outside, the morning spread its blue-gold tail in wanton splendor. +February in San Francisco! Fred Starratt drew in a deep breath and +wondered where else in the whole world one could have bettered that +morning at any season of the year. Like most San Franciscans, he had +never flown very far afield, but he was passionate in his belief that +his native city "had it on any of them," to use his precise term. And +he was resentful to a degree at any who dared in his presence to +establish other claims or to even suggest another preference. He +looked forward to New York as an experience, but never as a goal. No, +San Francisco was good enough for him! + +He felt the same conviction this morning, but a vague gypsying stirred +his blood also, and a wayfaring urge swept him. The sky was +indescribably blue, washed clean by a moist January that had drenched +the hills to lush-green life. The bay lay in a sapphire drowse, +flecked by idle-winged argosies, unfolding their storm-soaked sails to +the caressing sunlight. Soaring high above the placid gulls, an +airplane circled and dipped like a huge dragon fly in nuptial flight. +Through the Golden Gate, shrouded in the delicate mists evoked by the +cool night, an ocean liner glided with arrogant assurance. + +From the last vantage point, before he slipped townward to his +monotonous duties, Starratt stood, shading his eyes, watching the +stately exit of this maritime giant. This was a morning for starting +adventure...for setting out upon a quest!... He had been stirred +before to such Homeric longings ... spring sunshine could always prick +his blood with sharp-pointed desire. But to-day there was a poignant +melancholy in his flair for a wider horizon. He was touched by +weariness as well as longing. He was like a pocket hunter whose +previous borrowings had beguiled him with flashing grains that proved +valueless. He would not abandon his search, but he must pack up and +move on to new, uncertain, unproved ground. And he felt all the weight +of hidden and heartbreaking perils with which his spiritual faring +forth must of necessity be hedged. + +At the corner of California and Montgomery streets he met the tide of +nine-o'clock commuters surging toward the insurance offices and banks. +His widened vision suddenly contracted. Middle class! The phrase +leaped forward from the flock mind which this standardized concourse +diffused. In many of the faces he read the potentialities of infinite +variety, smothered by a dull mask of conformity. What a relief if but +one in that vast flood would go suddenly mad! He tried fantastically +to picture the effect upon the others--the momentary cowardice and +braveries that such an event would call into life. For a few brief +moments certain personalities and acts would stand out sharply +glorified, like grains of dust dancing in the slanting rays of the +sun. Then, the angle of yellow light restored to white normality, the +whirling particles would drift back into their colorless oblivion. + +For a moment he had a taste of desire for unspringing power. If he +could but be the wind to shake these dry reeds of custom into a +semblance of life!... One by one they passed him with an air of +growing preoccupation ... each step was carrying them nearer to the +day's pallid slavery, and an unconscious sense of their genteel +serfdom seemed gradually to settle on them. There were no bent nor +broken nor careworn toilers among this drab mass...the stamp of long +service here was a withered, soul-quenched gentility that came of +accepting life instead of struggling against it. + +Gradually the temper of the crowd communicated itself to him. It was +time to descend from his speculative heights and face the problems of +his workday world. He turned sharply toward his office. Young Brauer +was just mounting the steps. + +"Well, what's new?" Brauer threw out, genially. + +"Not a thing in the world!" escaped Starratt. + +They went into the office together. + +Old Wetherbee was carrying his cash book out of the safe. The old man +smiled. He was usually in good humor early in the morning. + +"Well, what's new?" he inquired, gayly. + +"Not a thing in the world!" they chimed, almost in chorus. + +At the rear of the office they slipped on their office coats. Brauer +took a comb from his pocket and began carefully to define the part in +his already slick hair. Starratt went forward. + +In the center of the room the chief stenographer stood, putting her +formidable array of pencils through the sharpener. She glanced up at +Starratt with a complacent smile. + +"Oh, good morning, Mr. Starratt!" she purred, archly. "What's new with +you?" + +"Not a thing in the world," he answered, ironically, and he began to +arrange some memoranda in one of the wire baskets on his desk... At +nine thirty the boy brought him his share of the mail from the back +office, and in ten minutes he was deeply absorbed in sorting the +"daily reports" from the various agencies. He worked steadily, +interrupted by an occasional phone call, an order from the chief +clerk, the arrival and departure of business associates and clients. +Above the hum of subdued office conversation the click of typewriting +machines and the incessant buzzing of the desk telephones, he was +conscious of hearing the same question repeated with monotonous +fidelity: + +"Hello! What's new with you?" + +And as surely, either through his own lips or the lips of another, the +identical reply always came: + +"Not a thing in the world!" + +At half past eleven he stopped deliberately and stood for a moment, +nervously fingering his tie. He was thinking about the course of +action that he had decided upon in that long, unusual vigil of the +night before. His uncertainty lasted until the remembrance of his +wife's scornful question swept over him: + +"Why aren't you doing something?... Everybody else is!" + +But it was the answer he had made that committed him irrevocably to +his future course: + +"Perhaps I am. You don't know everything." + +He had felt a sense of fatality bound up in these words of defiant +pretense, once they had escaped him...a fatality which the blazing +contempt of his wife's retort had emphasized. Even now his cheeks +burned with the memory of that unleashed insult: + +"What can _you_ do?" + +No, there was no turning back now. His own self-esteem could not deny +so clear-cut a challenge. + +He called his assistant. "I wish you'd go into the private office and +see if Mr. Ford is at leisure," he ordered. "I want to have a talk +with him." + +The youth came back promptly. "He says for you to come," was his brief +announcement. + +Fred Starratt stared a moment and, recovering himself, walked swiftly +in upon his employer. Mr. Ford was signing insurance policies. + +"Well, Starratt," he said, looking up smilingly, "what's the good +word?... What's new with you?" + +Starratt squared himself desperately. "Nothing...except I find it +impossible to live upon my salary." + +Mr. Ford laid aside his pen. "Oh, that's unfortunate!... Suppose you +sit down and we'll talk it over." + +Starratt dropped into the nearest seat. + +Mr. Ford let his eyeglasses dangle from their cord. He was not in the +least disturbed. Indeed, he seemed to be approaching the issue with +unqualified pleasure. + +"Now, Starratt, let's get at the root of the trouble... Of course +you're a reasonable man otherwise..." + +Starratt smiled ironically. A vivid remembrance of Hilmer's words +flashed over him. His lip-curling disdain must have communicated +itself to Mr. Ford, because that gentleman hesitated, cleared his +throat, and began all over again. + +"You're a reasonable man, Starratt, and I know that you have the +interest of the firm at heart." + +Starratt leaned back in his seat and listened, but he might have +spared himself the pains. Somehow he anticipated every word, every +argument, before Mr. Ford had a chance to voice them. Business +conditions were uncertain, overhead charges extraordinarily increased, +the loss ratio large and bidding fair to cut their bonus down to +nothing. Therefore ... well, of course, next year things might be +different. The firm was hoping that by next year they would be in a +position to deal handsomely with those of their force who had been +patient... Mr. Ford did not stop there, he did not expect Starratt to +take his word for anything. He reached for a pencil and pad and he +went into a mathematic demonstration to show just how near the edge of +financial disaster the firm of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. had been pushed. +Starratt could not doubt the figures, and yet his eyes traveled +instinctively to the bag of golf sticks in a convenient corner. +Somehow, nothing in either Ford's argument or his sleek presence +irritated Starratt so much as these golf sticks. For, in this +particular instance, they became the symbol of a self-sufficient +prosperity whose first moves toward economy were directed at those who +serve... If all this were so, why didn't Ford begin by cutting down +his own allowance, by trimming his own expenses to the bone? Golf, as +Mr. Ford played it, was an expensive luxury. No doubt the exercise was +beneficial, but puttering about a garden would have done equally. +Starratt might have let all this pass. He was by heart and nature and +training a conservative and he had sympathy for the genial vanities of +life. It was Ford's final summary, the unconscious patronage, the +quiet, assured insolence of his words, which gave Starratt his +irrevocable cue. + +"We rather look to men like you, Starratt," Mr. Ford was saying, his +voice suave to the point of insincerity, "to tide us over a crisis. +Just now, when the laboring element is running amuck, it's good to +feel that the country has a large percentage of people who can be +reasonable and understand another viewpoint except their own... After +everything is said and done, in business a man's first loyalty is to +the firm he works for." + +"Why?" Starratt threw out sharply. + +Ford's pallid eyes widened briefly. "I think the answer is obvious, +Starratt. Don't you? The hand that feeds a man is..." + +"_Feeds?_ That may work both ways." + +"I don't quite understand." + +Starratt's glance traveled toward the golf sticks. "Well, it seems to +me it's a case of one man cutting down on necessities to provide +another with luxuries." He hated himself once he had said it. It +outraged his own sense of breeding. + +Mr. Ford shoved the pencil and pad to one side. "A parlor radical, +eh?... Well, this from _you_ is surprising!... If there was one man in +my employ whom I counted on, it was you. You've been with me over +fifteen years ... began as office boy, as I remember. And in all that +time you've never even asked for a privilege... I'm sorry to see such +a fine record broken!" + +Yesterday Starratt would have agreed with him, but now he felt moved +to indignation and shame at Ford's summary of his negative virtues. He +had been born with a voice and he had never lifted it to ask for his +rights, much less a favor. No wonder Hilmer could sneer and Helen +Starratt cut him with the fine knife of her scorn! The words began to +tumble to his lips. They came in swirling flood. He lost count of what +he was saying, but the angry white face of his employer foreshadowed +the inevitable end of this interview. He gave his rancor its full +scope ... protests, defiance, insults, even, heaping up in a +formidable pile. + +"You ask me to be patient," he flared, "because you think I'm a +reasonable, rational, considerate beast that can be broken to any +harness!" He recognized Hilmer's words, but he swept on. "If you were +in a real flesh-and-blood business you'd have felt the force of things +... you'd have had men with guts to deal with ... you'd have had a +brick or two heaved into your plate-glass window. A friend of mine +said last night that potting clerks was as sickening as a rabbit +drive. He was right, it is sickening!" + +Mr. Ford raised his hand. Starratt obeyed with silence. + +"I'm sorry, Starratt, to see _you_ bitten with this radical disease... +Of course, you can't stay on here, after this. Your confidence in us +seems to have been destroyed and it goes without saying that my +confidence in you has been seriously undermined. We'll give you a good +recommendation and a month's salary... But you had better leave at +once. A man in your frame of mind isn't a good investment for Ford, +Wetherbee & Co." + +Starratt was still quivering with unleashed heroics. "The +recommendation is coming to me," he returned, coldly. "The month's +salary isn't. I'll take what I've earned and not a penny more." + +"Very well; suit yourself there." + +Mr. Ford reached for his pen and began where he had left off at +Starratt's entrance ... signing insurance policies... Starratt rose +and left without a word. The interview was over. + +Already, in that mysterious way with which secrets flash through an +office with lightninglike rapidity, a hint of Starratt's brush with +Ford was illuminating the dull routine. + +"I think he's going into business for himself, or something," Starratt +heard the chief stenographer say in a stage whisper to her assistant, +as he passed. + +And at his desk he found Brauer waiting to waylay him with a bid for +lunch, his little ferret eyes attempting to confirm the general gossip +flying about. + +Starratt had an impulse to refuse, but instead he said, as evenly as +he could: + +"All right ... sure! Let's go now!" + +Brauer felt like eating oysters, so they decided to go up to one of +the stalls in the California Market for lunch. He was in an expansive +mood. + +"Let's have beer, too," he insisted, as they seated themselves. "After +the first of July they'll slap on war-time prohibition and it won't be +so easy." + +Starratt acquiesced. He usually didn't drink anything stronger than +tea with the noonday meal, because anything even mildly alcoholic made +him loggy and unfit for work, but the thought that to-day he was free +intrigued him. + +The waiter brought the usual plate of shrimps that it was customary to +serve with an oyster order, and Starratt and Brauer fell to. A glass +of beer foamed with enticing amber coolness before each plate. Brauer +reached over and lifted his glass. + +"Well, here's success to crime!" he said, with pointed facetiousness. + +Starratt ignored the lead. He had never liked Brauer and he did not +find this sharp-nosed inquisitiveness to his taste. He began to wonder +why he had come with him. Lunching with Brauer had never been a habit. +Occasionally, quite by accident, they managed to achieve the same +restaurant and the same table, but it was not a matter of +prearrangement. Indeed, Starratt had always prided himself at his +ability to keep Brauer at arm's length. A subtle change had occurred. +Was it possible that a borrowed five-dollar bill could so reshape a +relationship? Well, he would pay him back once he received his monthly +salary, and get over with the obligation. His monthly salary?... +Suddenly it broke over him that he had received the last full month's +salary that he would ever get from Ford, Wetherbee & Co. It was the +20th of February, which meant, roughly, that about two thirds of his +one hundred and fifty dollars would be coming to him if he still held +to his haughty resolve to take no more than he had earned. Two thirds +of one hundred and fifty, less sixty-odd dollars overdrawn... He was +recalled from his occupation by Brauer's voice rising above the +clatter of carelessly flung crockery and tableware. + +"Is it true you're leaving the first of the month?" + +He liked Brauer better for this direct question, although the man's +presumption still rankled. + +"I'm leaving to-day," he announced, dryly, not without a feeling of +pride. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"I haven't decided... Perhaps...I don't know ... I _may_ become an +insurance broker." + +Brauer picked through the mess in his plate for an unshelled shrimp. +"That takes money," he ventured, dubiously. + +"Oh, not a great deal," Starratt returned, ruffling a trifle. "Office +rent for two or three months before the premiums begin to come in ... +a little capital to furnish up a room. I might even get some one to +give me a desk in his office until I got started. It's done, you +know." + +Brauer neatly extracted a succulent morsel from its scaly sheath. +"Don't you think it's better to put up a front?" he inquired. "If +you've got a decent office and your own phone and a good stenographer +it makes an impression when you're going after business... Why don't +you go in with somebody?... There ought to be plenty of fellows ready +to put up their money against your time." + +"Who, for instance?" escaped Starratt, involuntarily. + +Brauer shoved his plate of husked shrimps to one side. "Take me. I've +saved up quite a bit, and..." + +The waiter broke in upon them with the oysters. + +Starratt knitted his brows. "Well, why not?" was his mental +calculation. + +Brauer ordered two more pints of beer. + +Starratt had leaned at first toward keeping his business venture a +secret from Helen. But in the end a boyish eagerness to sun himself in +the warmth of her surprise unlocked his reserve. + +"I've quit Ford-Wetherbee," he said, quietly, that night, as she was +seating herself after bringing on the dessert. + +He had never seen such a startled look flash across her face. + +"What! Did you have trouble?" + +He decided swiftly not to give her the details. He didn't want her to +think that any outside influence had pushed him into action. + +"Oh no!..." he drawled, lightly. "I've been thinking of leaving for +some time. Working for another person doesn't get you anywhere." + +He could see that she was puzzled, perhaps a little annoyed. Last +night in a malicious moment she had been quite ready to sneer at her +husband's inactivity, but now, with the situation a matter of practice +rather than theory, Starratt felt that she was having her misgivings. +A suggestion of a frown hovered above her black eyebrows. + +"You can't mean that you're going into business!" she returned, as she +passed him a dish of steaming pudding. + +There was a suggestion of last night's scorn in her incredulity. + +"No?... And why not?" + +She cast a sidelong glance at him. "That takes money," she objected. + +He knew now, from her tone, what was behind the veil of her +intimations and he found a curious new pleasure in watching her +squirm. + +"Oh, well," he half mused, "I guess we'll struggle through somehow. +We've always managed to." + +She leaned one elbow heavily on the table. "_More_ economies, I +suppose!" + +He had trapped her too easily! It was his turn to be cutting. "Don't +worry!... I sha'n't ask you to do without any more than you've done +without so far. If you can stand it as it is awhile longer, why ..." +He broke off with a shrug. + +Her eyes swam in a sudden mist. "You're not fair!" she sniffed. "I'm +thinking as much of you as I am of myself. Going into business isn't +only a question of money. There are anxieties and worry ... and ... +and ..." She recovered herself swiftly and looked at him with clear, +though reproachful, eyes. "I'm always willing to help ... you know +that!" + +He melted at once. There was a moment of silence, and then he told her +everything ... about Brauer, and what they purposed. + +"He's to keep on at Ford-Wetherbee's until things are running +smoothly. Of course, I'd rather not have it that way, but he holds the +purse strings, so I've got to make concessions. We can get an office +for twenty-five a month. It will be the salary of the stenographer +that will count up." + +"When do you start?" + +"To-morrow. And do you know who I'm going after first thing?... +Hilmer. He told me last night to come around and talk over insuring +that car of his... I don't know that I'll land that. But I might line +him up for something else. He must have a lot of insurance to place +one way or another." + +She smiled dubiously. "Well, I wouldn't count too much upon Hilmer," +she said, with a superior air. + +"I'm not counting on anything or anybody," he returned, easily. +"Hilmer isn't the only fish in the sea." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was noon before Helen Starratt finished her housework next +morning--an unusually late hour for her, but she had been preoccupied, +and her movements slow in consequence. A four-room apartment, with +hardwood floors and a vacuum cleaner, was hardly a serious task for a +full-grown woman, childless, and with a vigor that reacted perfectly +to an ice-cold shower at 7 A.M. She used to look back occasionally at +the contrast her mother's life had presented. Even with a servant, a +three-storied, bay-windowed house had not given Mrs. Somers much +leisure for women's clubs. The Ladies Aid Society and a Christmas +festival in the church parlors were about as far along the road of +alleged social service as the woman of the last generation had +traveled. There was marketing to do, and sewing continually on hand, +and house-cleaning at stated intervals. In Helen Somers's old home the +daily routine had been as inflexible as its ancestor's original +Calvinistic creed--Monday, washing; Tuesday, ironing; Wednesday, +cleaning the silver; Thursday, at home to visitors; Friday, sweeping; +Saturday, baking; and Sunday, the hardest day of all. For, withal, the +Puritan sense of observance, that had not been utterly swamped by the +blue and enticing skies of California, Sunday was a feast day, not in +a lightsome sense, but in a dull, heavy, gastronomic way, unleavened +by either wine or passable wit. On Sunday the men of the family +returned home from church and gorged. If the day were fine, perhaps +everybody save mother took a cable-car ride, or a walk, or something +equally exciting. The sparkle of environment had won these people away +from tombstone reading and family prayers as a Sabbath diversion, but +even California could not be expected to make over a bluestocking in +an eye's twinkling. Mother, of course, stayed home on Sunday to "pick +up" and get ready for supper in the absence of the servant girl. A +later generation had the grace to elevate these slatternly drudges to +the title of maid, but a sterner ancestry found it expedient to be +more practical and less pretentious in its terms. On these drab +Sundays Helen Somers had passionately envied the children of foreign +breed, who seemed less hedged about by sabbatical restrictions. Not +that she wished her family to _be_ of the questionable sort that went +to El Campo or Shell Mound Park for Sunday picnics and returned in +quarrelsome state at a late hour smelling of bad whisky and worse gin. +Nor did she aspire to have sprung from the Teutonic stock that +perpetrated more respectable but equally noisy outings in the vicinity +of Woodward's Gardens. But she had a furtive and sly desire to float +oil-like upon the surface of this turbid sea, touching it at certain +points, yet scarcely mixing with it. Indeed, this inclination to taste +the core of life without committing herself the further indiscretion +of swallowing it grew to such proportions that at the age of fifteen +she almost succumbed to its allurement. Even at this late date she +could recall every detail of a seemingly casual conversation which she +had held with the stalwart butcher boy who came daily to the kitchen +door to deliver meat. The first day she merely had broached the +subject of Sunday picnics; the second she had intrigued him into +giving her one or two fleeting details; the third day she held him +captive a full ten minutes while he enlarged upon his subject. And so +on, until one morning he said, quite directly: + +"Would you like to go to one?... If you do, I'll take you." + +She had drawn back at first from this frontal attack, but in the end +she decided to chance the experience. She pretended to her mother that +she was going to see a girl friend who was sick. She met her crude +cavalier at the ferry. She even boarded the boat with him. At first he +had been a bit constrained and shy, but soon she felt the warm, moist +pressure of his thick-fingered hands against hers. And presently his +arm encircled her waist. With curious intuition she realized the +futility of struggling against him... She had to admit, in the end, +that she found his physical nearness pleasurable... She often had +wondered, looking back on that day, what might have happened if she +had gone through with this truant indiscretion. But halfway on the +journey her escort had deserted her momentarily to buy a cigar. Left +alone upon the upper deck of a ferryboat, crowded with a strident and +raucous company, she had felt herself suddenly grow cold, not with +fear, but with a certain haughty and disdainful anger. These people +were not her kind! She had risen swiftly from her seat and hidden +discreetly in the ladies' washroom until after the boat had landed and +was on its way back to the city. When she got home she found the house +in confusion. Her father had been taken suddenly ill. + +"I came very near sending to Nellie's for you," her mother had said. + +The incident had taught her a lesson, but there were times when she +regretted its termination--when she was stirred to a certain morbid +and profitless speculation as to what might have been. + +Shortly after this a reaction began to set in against the dullness +which certain people found desirable in the observation of what they +were pleased to call with questionable humility the Lord's Day, and by +the time Helen had budded to womanhood this new tide was at its flood. +People, even piously inclined, were taking houses across the bay, at +Belvedere or Sausalito or Mill Valley, for the summer. Somehow, one +didn't go to church during this holiday. Friends came over for +Saturday and Sunday to visit, and the term "week-end" became +intelligible and acquired significance. The Somerses took a cottage +for three successive seasons in Belvedere--that is, they spoke of it +as a cottage. In reality, it was the abandoned hulk of a ferryboat +that had been converted into rather uncomfortable quarters and set up +on the slimy beach. The effect of this unconventional habitation +slowly undermined the pale ghost of the Somers' family tradition. They +became bohemian. Instead of the lugubrious Sunday feast of thick +joints and heavy puddings, they began to make the acquaintance of the +can opener. And from can opener to corkscrew it was only a brief +step... It was at this point that Helen met Fred Starratt. Quite +naturally the inevitable happened. Moonlight rowing in the cove at +Belvedere, set to the tune of mandolins, was always providing a job +for the parson, and, if the truth were told, for the divorce courts as +well. It all had been pleasant enough, and normal enough, and the +expected thing. That's what young people always did if the proper +setting were provided, especially when the moon kept on the job. + +Helen Starratt had read about the thrills that the heroines of novels +received from the mating fever, but she had to confess that she had +not experienced anything as exciting as a thrill during the entire +period of her husband's wooing. She had felt satisfaction, a mild +triumph, a gratified vanity, if you will, but that was as far as her +emotional experience had gone. After all, her career had been +marriage, and she had taken the most likely situation that had been +offered. She presumed it was the same when one graduated from business +college. You were expected to land a job and you did. Sometimes it was +a good one, and then again it wasn't. Looking back, she conceded that +her choice had been fair. Fred Starratt didn't drink to excess, he +didn't beat or swear at her, he didn't make sarcastic remarks about +her relations, or do any of the things which anyone who reads the +daily papers discovers so many men do under provocation or otherwise. +But, on the other hand, he hadn't made a fortune or bought a car or +given her any reason for feeling compensated for the lack of marital +excitement. His friends called him a nice fellow--in some ways as +damning a thing as one could say about anybody--and let it go at that. +However, Helen Starratt's vocabulary was just as limited when it came +to characterizing her conventional aims and ambitions. If, +occasionally, her speculations stirred the muddy reaches of certain +furtive desires, she took care that they did not become articulate. +This term "nice" included every desirable virtue. One married nice +men, and one lived in a nice neighborhood, and one made nice +acquaintances. In her mother's day she had heard people say: + +"I believe in having the young folks identified with church work--they +meet such nice people." + +And years later a friend, attempting to interest her in the activities +of a local orphan asylum, had clinched every other argument by +stating, blandly: + +"You really ought to go in for it, Helen--you've no idea what nice +people you meet." + +When America's entry into the war brought up the question of Red Cross +endeavor, her first thought had been: + +"I really ought to do something, I suppose. And, besides, I'll meet +lots of nice people." + +Well, she had met a lot of nice people, but the only fruitful yield +socially had been Mrs. Hilmer. And somehow it never occurred to Helen +to apply such a discriminating term as nice to her latest acquisition. +Mrs. Hilmer was wholesome and good hearted and a dear, and no doubt +she was nice in a negative way, but one never thought about saying so. +And Hilmer...? No, he was not what one would call a nice man, but he +was tremendously interesting and in the hands of the right woman... +You see, Mrs. Hilmer was a good soul, but, of course, she didn't quite +... that is, she was a bit old fashioned and ... well, she didn't know +how, poor dear! + +Thus it was that over her household tasks on this particular February +morning Helen Starratt dawdled as her mind played with the fiction of +what Hilmer might become under the proper influence. Now, if _she_ had +married him!... + +It was all very well for Mrs. Hilmer to see that her lord and master +was fed properly, but why did she waste hours over a custard when she +had money enough to hire it done? That course didn't get either of +them anywhere--Hilmer remained at a level of torpid content, and +naturally he looked down on his wife as a sort of sublimated servant +girl who wasn't always preparing to leave and demanding higher +wages... No, most men fell too easily in the trap of their personal +comforts. Even Fred had become self-satisfied. Beyond his dinner and +paper and an occasional sober flight at the movies or bridge with old +friends he didn't seem to have any stirring ambitions. That was where +a wife came in. Hadn't she been casting around for bait that would +make Fred rise to something new? Hadn't she invited the Hilmers to +dinner in the hope that the two men would hit it off? The very first +time she had met Hilmer she had thought, "There's a man that Fred +ought to know." + +She was perfectly willing to concede certain virtues to her husband, +and she flattered herself that with the materials at her command she +had managed to keep Fred pretty well up to the scratch. The only thing +that had been lacking was plenty of money. If she had had one quarter +of Hilmer's income she would have evolved a husband that any woman +could have been proud of, instead of one that most women would have +found merely satisfactory... This was the way she had argued before +her absurd dinner party. She had to admit, after it was all over, that +her husband had managed to make her thoroughly ashamed of him. It was +better to have an outrageous husband than a ridiculous one. And she +fancied that Hilmer could be outrageous if he chose... But she was +sure of one thing ... if Hilmer came home and announced that he had +given up his position and had decided to plunge in boldly for himself, +his wife would scarcely give the matter a second thought. Hilmer would +carry the thing through ... _some way_. A man who could brain an +assailant and fight for a mouthful of bread would put things over by +hook or crook. There wasn't much chance for failure there. But Fred +Starratt ... well, he was apt to have some ridiculous scruple or too +keen a sense of business courtesy or a sensitiveness to rebuffs. Take +his passage at arms with the drunken maid ... if he had thrown her out +promptly, or come in and frankly borrowed the money from Hilmer, it +would have at least shown decision. + +Of course she couldn't do anything, now that he was committed to this +new business venture. It was all very well for him to snarl: "Don't +worry... I sha'n't ask you to do without any more than you've done +without so far." + +That was the lofty way most men theorized when their vanity was +wounded. But she knew enough to realize that if he failed she would +have to share that failure. Of course, if Fred could interest +Hilmer... Perhaps she could help things along in some way ... with a +chance remark to Mrs. Hilmer. Would it be better to cast the seed more +directly?... If she could only manage to run across Hilmer--she +wouldn't want to seem to be putting in her oar... Would it be very +dreadful if she were to think up some excuse and go beard the lion in +his den? + +She was still interested in her orphan asylum. Why not go ask him for +a subscription? She wondered if he would be very brusque; insulting, +even. The possibilities fascinated her. She felt that she would like a +passage at arms with him. He was a man worth worsting. Under such +circumstances Fred Starratt would be either liberal beyond his means +or profusely apologetic. Not by any chance would he give a prompt and +emphatic refusal... The more she thought about it the more enticing +the prospect became. She felt sure that if Hilmer didn't approve of +her charity he would say so frankly, perhaps disagreeably. And if he +didn't think much of her husband's venture he would be equally direct. +She rather wanted to know what he _did_ think about Fred Starratt. She +ended by coming to an emphatic decision. She would not only go, but +she would go that very afternoon. If there were any chance for her to +prepare an easy road for Fred's advance it lay in speedy action. + +When she finished dressing for the encounter and stood surveying +herself in the long mirror set into the closet door of her bedroom she +had to admit that she had missed none of her points. Most women at her +age would have been sagging a bit, the cords of youth slackened by the +weight of maternity or the continual pull against ill health and +genteel poverty. Or they would have been smothered in the plump +content of Mrs. Hilmer. Helen Starratt's slenderness had still a +virginal quality and she knew every artifice that heightened this +effect. To-day she was a trifle startled at quite the lengths she had +gone to strike a note of sophisticated youth. She had long since +ceased dressing consciously for her husband, and dressing for other +women was more a matter of perfect detail than attempted beguilement. +She was curious, she told herself, to see whether a man like Hilmer +would be impressed by feminine artifice... Did a black silk gown, with +spotless lace at wrist and throat, spell the acme of Hilmer's ideal of +womanhood? Was woman to him something durable and utilitarian or did +his fancy sometimes carry him to more decorative ideals? + +She did not go directly to his office; instead, she dawdled a bit over +the shop windows. Things were appallingly high, she noted with growing +dismay, especially the evening gowns. On the shrugging, simpering +French wax figures they were at once very scant and very vivid ... +strung with beads and shot through with gold thread or spangled with +flashing sequins. She tried to imagine Mrs. Hilmer in one of these +gaudy confections. Almost any of them would have looked well on Helen +herself. But any woman who went in for dressing at all would need a +trunkload, she concluded, if one were to decently last out a season. +She found herself speculating on just what class of people would +invest in these hectic flesh coverings. Certainly not the enormously +rich ... they didn't buy their provocative draperies from show +windows. And even the comfortably off might pause, she thought, before +throwing a couple of hundred dollars into a wisp of veiling that +didn't reach much below the knees and would look like a weather-beaten +cobweb after the second wearing. With all this talk about profiteering +and economy and the high cost of living, even Helen Starratt had to +admit that one could go without an evening gown at two hundred +dollars. But, judging from the shoppers on the street, there didn't +seem to be many who intended to do without them. She began to wonder +what her chances were for at least a spring tailor-made. She supposed +now, with Fred going into business, she would be expected to make her +old one do. Well, she decided she wouldn't make it do if she had to +beg on the street corner. She'd had it a year and a half, and during +war times that was quite all right. The best people had played +frumpish parts then. But now everybody was perking up. As for an +evening gown ... well, she simply couldn't conceive where even a +hundred dollars would be available for one of these spangled harem +veils that was passing muster as a full-grown dress... If she had +possessed untold wealth, all this flimsiness, this stylistic froth, +would have appealed to her; as it was, she was irritated by it. What +were things coming to? she demanded. Just when you thought you were up +to the minute, the styles changed overnight. It was the same with +household furniture. Ten years ago, when she and Fred had set up +housekeeping, everybody had exclaimed over her quaint bits of +mahogany, her neutral window drapes, even at her wonderful porcelain +gas range. Now, everything, from bed to dining-room table, was painted +in dull colors pricked by gorgeous designs; the hangings at the +windows screamed with color; electric stoves were coming in. The day +of polished surfaces and shining brass was over--antiques were no +longer the rage. + +Her dissatisfaction finally drove her toward Hilmer's office. She +stopped at one of the flower stands on Grant Avenue and bought a half +dozen daffodils. She begrudged the price she had to give for them, but +they did set off the dull raisin shade of her dress with a proper +flare of color. She concluded she would play up the yellow note in her +costuming oftener. Somehow it kindled her. She wondered for the first +time in her life what gypsy strain had flooded her with such dark +beauty. She stopped before a millinery shop and peered critically at +her reflection in a window mirror. Yes, the yellow note was a good +one, but she was still a trifle cold. If her lips had been a little +fuller... Strange she had never thought about that before. Well, next +time she would touch them ever so deftly into a suggestion of ripe +opulence. She sauntered slowly down Post Street, turned into +Montgomery. There were scarcely any women on the street and the men +who passed were, for the most part, in preoccupied flight. Yet she saw +more than one pair of eyes widen with brief appraisal as she went by. +Hilmer's offices were in the Merchants' Exchange Building. Helen +decided to slip in through the Montgomery Street entrance. She felt +that there might be a chance of running into Fred on California Street +and she didn't want to do that. + +As she shot up toward the eleventh story in the elevator she rehearsed +her opening scene with Hilmer. She decided to take her cue flippantly. +She would banter him at first and gradually veer to more serious +topics... But once she stood in his rather austere inner shrine of +business, she decided against subterfuges. He had stepped into the +main office, the boy who showed her in explained. Would she have a +seat? She dropped into a chair, taking in her background with feminine +swiftness. A barometer, a map, two stiffly painted pictures exhibiting +as many sailing vessels in full flight, a calendar bearing the +advertisement of a ship-chandlery firm--this was the extent of the +wall decoration. The office furniture was golden oak, the rugs of +indifferent neutrality. On his desk he had a picture of Mrs. Hilmer, +taken in a bygone day, very plump and blond and youthful in a soft, +tranquil way. And by its side, in a little ridiculously-blue glass +vase, some spring wild flowers languished, pallidly white and withered +by the heat of captivity. She checked an impulse to rise when he came +in. For a moment his virility had overwhelmed her into a feeling of +deference, but she recovered herself sufficiently to droop +nonchalantly into her seat as he gave her his hand. He was not in the +least put out of countenance by her unexpected presence, and she felt +a fleeting sense of disappointment, almost of pique. + +"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," she began, tritely. + +He swung his swivel chair toward her and sat down. "Yes, naturally," +he returned, with disconcerting candor. + +She touched the petals of her daffodils with a pensive finger. "Well, +really, you know, I'd quite made up my mind to pretend at first... +Women never like to come directly to the point. I thought up a silly +excuse--begging for an orphan asylum, to be exact. But I can see that +wouldn't go here... And I don't believe you're the least bit +interested in orphans." + +"Why should I be?" he asked, bluntly. + +She had a dozen arguments that might have won the ordinary man, but +she knew it would take more than stock phrases to convince him, so she +ignored the challenge. "You see, my husband has decided to go into +business ... and ... well, I thought perhaps if you had any insurance +... a stray bit, don't you know, that isn't pledged or spoken for ... +it would all be _so_ encouraging!" + +He smoothed his cheek with an appraising gesture. Against the blond +freshness of his skin his mangled thumb stood out vividly. + +"Why doesn't your husband come to see me himself?" + +She drew back a trifle, but her recovery was swift. "Oh, he intends +to, naturally. I'm just preparing the way... Fred's a perfect dear and +all that, but he is a little bit reserved about some things... It +would be so much easier for him to ask a favor for some one else... Of +course, he'd be perfectly furious if he knew that I had come here. But +you understand, Mr. Hilmer, I want to do all I can... I'd make _any_ +sacrifice for Fred." + +She paused to give him a chance to put in a word, but he sat silent. +It was plain that he didn't intend to help out her growing +embarrassment. + +"It's all come out of a clear sky," she went on, trailing the fringe +of her beaded hand bag across her shoe tops. "He only told me last +night... There isn't any use pretending ... he hasn't any capital to +work on. And until the premiums begin to come in there'll be office +rent and a stenographer's salary piling up ... and our living expenses +in the bargain... A friend of his is putting up some money, but I +can't imagine it's a whole lot... I'm a little bit upset about it, of +course. I wish I could really do something to help him." + +She knew from his look that he intended to hurl another disconcerting +question at her. + +"Well, if you want to help him, why don't you?" he quizzed. + +"Why, I ... why, I'm not fit for anything, really," she tried to throw +back. + +"My wife said you were pretty efficient at the Red Cross." + +"Oh, but that was different!" + +"Why?" + +"Well, I can't just explain, but it's easy to do something you ... +you..." + +"Feel you don't have to," he finished for her, ironically. + +She shrugged petulantly. "What do you want me to do? Solicit +insurance?" + +He smiled. "That's what you're doing now, isn't it?" + +"Mr. _Hilmer_!" She rose majestically in her seat. + +He continued to sit, but she was conscious that his eyes were sweeping +her from head to foot with frank appraisal. + +"A pretty woman has a good chance to get by with almost anything she +sets her mind on," he said, finally. + +She drew in a barely perceptible breath. The blunt tip of his shoe was +jammed squarely against her toe. She withdrew her foot, but she sat +down again. + +"I really ought to be angry with you, Mr. Hilmer," she purred at him, +archly. "It's very nice of you to attempt to be so gallant, but, after +all, talk _is_ pretty cheap, isn't it?... So far I don't seem to be +making good as a solicitor. So what else is there left?" + +"How about being your husband's stenographer?" he asked, without a +trace of banter. + +She forgot to be amazed. "I don't know anything about shorthand," she +replied, simply. + +"Well, you could soon learn to run a typewriter," he insisted. "I have +a young woman in my office who takes my letters direct on the machine +as I dictate them. She's as good as, if not better than, my chief +stenographer. That would save your husband at least seventy-five +dollars a month." + +She had an impulse to rise and sweep haughtily out of the room. What +right had this man to tell her what she could or could not do? The +impudence of him! But she didn't want to appear absurd. She leaned +back and looked at him through her half-closed eyelids as she said, +with a slight drawl: + +"Would my presence in the office be a bid for your support, Mr. +Hilmer?" + +"It might," he said, looking at her keenly. + +She did not flinch, but his steady gaze cut her composure like a +knife. She got to her feet again. + +"What silly little flowers!" escaped her, as she took a step near his +desk and pulled a faded blossom from the blue vase. + +He left his seat and stood beside her. "I got them down by St. Francis +Wood last Sunday," he admitted. "They reminded me of the early spring +blossoms in the old country ... the sort that shoot up almost at the +melting snow bank's edge... The flowers here are very gorgeous, but +somehow they never seem as sweet." + +She looked at him curiously, almost with the expectation of finding +that he was jesting. This flowering of sentiment was unexpected. It +had come, as he had described his native spring blooms, almost at the +snow bank's edge. She reached out, gathered up the faded blossoms +ruthlessly, and dropped them into a convenient waste basket. + +"Do you mind?" she asked, lifting her eyes heavily. + +He did not answer. + +Slowly she unpinned the flaming daffodils from her side and slipped +them into the empty vase. She stepped back to survey their sunlit +brilliance, resting a gloved hand upon the chair she had deserted. She +was conscious that another hand was bearing down heavily upon her +slender ringers. The weight crushed and pained her, yet she felt no +desire to withdraw... + +The office boy came in. She moved forward quickly. + +"There's a gentleman named Starratt waiting to see you," he announced. + +She threw back her head defensively. + +"This way!" Hilmer said, as he opened a private exit for her. + +She found herself in the marble-flanked hallway and presently she +gained the sun-flooded street. The blood was pounding at her temples +and its throb hurt. + +She walked home rapidly, swept by half-formulated impulses that +stirred her to almost adolescent self-revelations, yet when she +reached her apartment she was quite calm, almost too calm, and +outwardly cold. + +That night over the black coffee Fred Starratt said to his wife, with +an air of restrained triumph: + +"Well, I landed the insurance on Hilmer's car to-day." + +She flashed him, an enigmatical smile. "Oh, lovely!"... + +He sipped his coffee with preening satisfaction. + +"Everything is going beautifully," he continued. "I hired an office +and began to connect up with two or three firms. That preliminary from +Hilmer was a great boost... A man named Kendrick handles all his +business, so I've sort of got the street guessing. They can't figure +how I could even get a look in... Of course I'm convinced that +Kendrick shares his commissions with Hilmer, which is against the +rules of the Broker's Exchange. But he didn't ask for any shakedown... +Brauer and I ordered some office furniture, and to-morrow I'll +advertise for a girl." + +"I've got one for you already," she said, deliberately. + +"Who?" + +She reached across the shallow length of the table and touched his arm +significantly. + +"I've decided to do it myself," she purred. + +He patted her hand as an incredulous stare escaped him. "You!" he +laughed. + +She suffered his indulgent and mildly contemptuous caress. "Don't +laugh, sonny," she drawled, almost disagreeably. "Your wife may prove +a lot more clever than she seems." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After the first two weeks Fred Starratt's business venture went +forward amazingly. His application for membership in the Insurance +Broker's Exchange was rushed through by influential friends and he +became, through this action, a full-fledged fire insurance broker. He +did not need this formality, however, to qualify him as a solicitor in +other insurance lines. There was a long list of free lances, where the +only seal of approval was an ability to get the business. Automobile +liability, personal accident, marine, life--underwriters representing +such insurances shared commissions with any and all who had a +reasonable claim to prospective success. Therefore, while he was +waiting for his final confirmation from fire-insurance circles he took +a flyer at these more liberal forms. There seemed no end to this +miscellaneous business which, he came to the conclusion, could be had +almost for the asking. And all the time he had fancied that the field +was overworked! He mentioned this one day to a seasoned veteran in the +brokerage world. + +"Writing up policies is one thing," this friend had assured him, +emphatically; "collecting the premiums is another matter... If your +fire-insurance premiums aren't paid up inside of two months, the +policies are canceled. But they let the others drag on until the cows +come home. There's nothing so intangible in this world as insurance. +And people hate to pay for intangibilities." + +Starratt refused to be forewarned. The people he went after were +personal friends or gilt-edged business men. _They_ wouldn't deny +their obligations when the premiums fell due. + +But the greatest rallying point for his business enthusiasm proved to +be Hilmer. It seemed that scarcely a day went by that Hilmer did not +drop a new piece of business Fred's way. Returning to the office at +four o'clock on almost any afternoon, he grew to feel almost sure that +he would find Hilmer there, bending over Helen's shoulder as he +pointed out some vital point in the contract they were both examining. +He was a trifle uneasy at first--dreading the day when Hilmer would +approach him on the matter of sharing commissions. It was a generally +assumed fact that Kendrick, the man who handled practically all of +Hilmer's business, was a notorious rebater--that he divided +commissions with his clients in the face of his sworn agreement with +the Broker's Exchange not to indulge in such a practice. Obviously, +then, Hilmer would not be a man to throw away chances to turn such an +easy trick. + +Starratt voiced these fears to Brauer. + +"Sure he expects a rake-off," Starratt's silent partner had said. +"Everybody gets it ... if they've got business enough to make it worth +while." + +"Well, he won't get it from me," Fred returned, decisively. "I've +signed my name to an agreement and that agreement will stick if I +starve doing it!" + +Brauer, disconcerted by his friend's vehemence, merely had shrugged, +but at another time he said, craftily: + +"If Hilmer wants to break even on the fire business he gives us, why +can't we make it up some other way?... There's nothing against giving +him _all_ the commissions on that automobile liability policy we +placed the other day. We can do what we please with _that_ profit." + +Starratt flushed. "Can't you see, Brauer, that the principle is the +same?" + +"Principle! Oh, shoot!... We're out to make money, not to reform +business methods." + +Starratt made no further reply, but Brauer's attitude rankled. He +began to wish that he hadn't allowed Brauer to go in on his venture. +'But it had taken money ... more than he had imagined. They had to put +a good deposit down on the office furniture, and the rent was, of +course, payable in advance. Then came the fee for joining the Broker's +Exchange, and he had to borrow money for his personal expenses in the +face of his diminished salary check from Ford, Wetherbee & Co. He +realized, too, that the difficulties would scarcely decrease, even in +the face of brisk business. The office furnishings would one day have +to be met in full, the typewriting machine paid for, the stationery +and printing bills settled. During all this time he and Helen would +have to live and keep up a decent, not to say prosperous, appearance. +Yes, even with Helen saving the price of a stenographer, the problem +would not be easy. A day would come finally when he would feel +compelled to provide Helen with a fair salary. A man couldn't expect +even his own wife to go on pounding a typewriting machine for nothing. +What he really hoped was that when things began to run smoothly Helen +would retire... He had heard her in the old days voice her scorn of +the married woman who went out to earn a salary. + +"I wouldn't marry a man who couldn't support me!" she used to blaze. + +As a matter of fact, he had felt the same way about it--he felt that +way still. It hurt him to think that Helen should be wearing the badge +of his inefficiency. And then, deep down, he had a masculine distaste +for sharing his workday world with a woman. He liked to preserve the +mystery of those hours spent in the fight for existence, because he +knew instinctively that battle grounds lost their glamour at close +range. His Californian inheritance had fostered the mining-camp +attitude toward females--they were one of two things: men's moral +equals or men's moral superiors. It was well enough to meet an equal +on common ground, but one felt in duty bound to enshrine a superior +being in reasonable seclusion. + +At first he had been doubtful of Helen's ability to adapt herself to +such a radical change. Her performance soon set his mind at rest on +that score, but he still could not recover quite from the surprise of +her unexpected decision. Indifference, amazement, opposition--nothing +seemed able to sway her from her purpose. In the end he had been too +touched by her attitude to put his foot down firmly against the +move... She got on well with Hilmer, too, he noticed. Usually at the +end of one of these late afternoon conferences with their chief patron +Fred and Hilmer ended up by shaking for an early evening cocktail at +Collins & Wheeland's, just around the corner. Hilmer always saw to it +that Fred returned to the office with something for Helen--a handful +of ginger-snaps from the free-lunch counter, a ham sandwich, or a +paper of ripe olives. Once he stopped in a candy shop on Leidesdorff +Street and bought two ice-cream cornucopias. Fred used to shake a +puzzled head as he deposited these gastronomic trifles upon Helen's +desk as he said: + +"I don't get this man Hilmer... One minute he insults you and the next +minute he's as considerate as a canteen worker... What's he throwing +business my way for?" + +Helen, munching a gingersnap, would go on with her laborious +typewriting, and return: + +"Why look a gift horse in the mouth, Freddie?... Women aren't the only +riddles in the world." + +"I think he comes to see you," he used to throw out in obvious jest. +"That's the only way I can figure it." + +"He's like every man ... he wants an audience... I guess Mother Hilmer +is tired of hearing him rave." + +And so the banter would go on until Fred would pull up with a round +turn, realizing quite suddenly that he was talking to his wife and not +just to his stenographer. + +"He'll be at me one of these days on that commission question, you +mark my words," he would venture. + +"And what are you going to do?" + +"Why, refuse, of course, and lose the business." + +"Well, don't cross the bridge till you come to it." + +She puzzled him more and more. She seemed disturbed at nothing, and +yet she glowed with a leashed restlessness that he could not define. + +"It's the strain," he would conclude. "She's putting more into this +venture of mine than she's willing to admit... After all, women are +amazing... They pull and cling at you and drag you back ... and then, +all of a sudden, they take the bit in their teeth and you can't hold +them in... Who would have thought that Helen..." + +And here he would halt, overcome with the soft wonder of it. + +Business began to pour in from Brauer and, frankly, Fred was +disturbed. He wasn't sure of Brauer's business scruples. + +"I wonder if he's promising these people rebates," he said to Helen +one day, following an avalanche of new risks. + +"Well, you'll know soon enough when he begins to collect the +premiums," she replied, indifferently. + +"But I don't want to wait until then... They tell me this man Kendrick +is getting awfully sore at losing so much of Hilmer's business. He'd +like nothing better than to hop on to some irregularity in my methods +and get me fired from the Exchange... It takes a thief to catch one, +you know." + +"Oh, why worry?" Helen almost snapped at him. "If Brauer gets us into +a mess we can always throw him out." + +Starratt's eyes widened. Where did Helen get this ruthless philosophy? +Had it always lain dormant in her, or was this business life already +putting a ragged edge upon her finer perceptions? But he made no +answer. He had never admitted to Helen that Brauer had insisted upon +drawing up a hard-and-fast partnership agreement, and taking his note +for half of the money advanced in the bargain. It was one of the +business secrets which he decided he would not share with anybody--he +had a childish wish to preserve some mystery in connection with his +venture against the soft and dubious encroachments of his wife. + +"Anyway," Helen went on, "as soon as we get running smoothly we can +split. No doubt _he'll_ want to pull out when he sees that he can get +along without us... Just now he isn't taking any chances. He's holding +down his own job and letting us do all the work and the worrying... +Oh, he's German, all right, from the ground up." + +Fred had often shared this same hope, although he had never voiced it. +When the time came, no doubt Brauer would eliminate himself--for a +consideration--and set up his own office. But it amazed him to find +how swiftly and completely Helen had figured all these things out. Had +her mind always worked so coldly and logically under her rather +indifferent surface? He still wondered, too, at her efficiency. Was +this a product of her social service with the Red Cross during war +times?... Being a man, he couldn't concede that a proper domestic +training was a pretty good schooling in any direction. He didn't see +any relationship between a perfectly baked apple pie and a neatly kept +cash book. He had expected his wife to fall down on the mechanical +aspects of typewriting, but he forgot that she had been running a +sewing machine since she was fifteen years old. And even in his wife's +early childhood people were still using lamps for soft effects and +intensive reading. Any woman who knew the art of keeping a kerosene +lamp in shape must of necessity find the oiling and cleaning of a +typewriting machine mere child's play. He didn't realize the +affinities of training. It would never have occurred to him to fancy +that because he kept his office desk in perfect order he was qualified +to do the same thing with a kitchen stove, or that the method he had +acquired as office boy, copying letters in the letterpress, would have +stood him in good stead if he suddenly had been called upon to make up +his own bed. What he did realize was that the leveling process which +goes hand in hand with the mingling of sexes in a workday world was +setting in. And he resented it. He wanted to coddle illusion ... he +had no wish for a world practical to the point of bleakness. + +One afternoon Hilmer came in at the usual time with a handful of +memoranda. It was a violently rainy day--an early March day, to be +exact--the sort that refused to be softened even by the beguilements +of California. The rain wind, generally warm and humid, had been +chilled in its flight over the snow-piled Sierras, and it had pelted +down in a wintry flood, banking up piles of stinging hail between +warmer showerings. Fred had decided to forgo his soliciting and stay +indoors instead. Hilmer greeted him with biting raillery. + +"Well, I should think this was a good day to bag a prospective +customer," he flung out as he laid his umbrella aside. "Or is business +swamping you?" + +Fred tossed back a trite rejoinder. Helen went on pounding her machine +... she did not even lift her eyes. + +"I've got something for you to-day," Hilmer went on, as he unbound the +bundle of papers and sat down beside Fred. + +Starratt saw the edge of a blue print in Hilmer's hand. This spelled +all manner of possibilities, but he checked a surge of illogical hope. +"That's fine," he answered, heartily. "But why didn't you send for me? +I could have come over. It's bad enough to take your business without +letting you bring it in on a day like this..." + +Hilmer made a contemptuous gesture. "Wind and weather never made any +difference to me... I've traveled twenty miles in a blizzard to court +a girl." + +"Oh, when a woman's involved, that's different," Fred laughed back. +"There's nothing as alluring here." + +"Well, Mrs. Starratt, what do you say?" Hilmer called out to her. +"Your husband doesn't seem to count you in at all." + +Helen was erasing a misspelled word. "Married women are used to that," +she retorted, flippantly. "Sometimes it's just as well that they +overlook us. We get a chance to play our own hand once in a while." + +Everybody laughed, including Fred, but the effort hurt him. There was +a suggestion of unpleasant mockery in Helen's tone. She seemed to be +hiding her contempt behind a thin veil of acrid humor. And somehow +this revelation in the presence of Hilmer stung him. + +"I'll bet you can't guess what I've got here," Hilmer began again, +tapping the bundle of papers with his ringer. + +Starratt shook his head and Hilmer tossed him the blue print. + +"Not the insurance on your shipbuilding plant?" escaped Fred, +incredulously. + +Hilmer crossed his legs and settled back in his chair. + +"You said it!" he announced. "And it's all going to you after we've +settled one question... I've been bringing you in little odds and ends +as I've had them ... not enough to matter much one way or another ... +so I haven't bothered to really get down and talk business. This is a +half-million-dollar line and a little bit different. It means about +fifteen thousand dollars in premiums, to be exact. You can figure what +your commission will be at fifteen per cent, to say nothing of how +solid this will make you with the street... Later on there 'll be +workmen's compensation, boiler insurance, public liability. It's a +pretty nice little plum, if I do say so." + +Helen stopped her typing. Fred could feel his lips drying with mingled +anticipation and apprehension. He knew just what demand Hilmer +intended making. + +"The question is," Hilmer continued, "how much of the commission are +you going to split up with me?" + +Fred shrugged. "You know the rules of the Broker's Exchange as well as +I do, Hilmer. I've pledged myself not to do any rebating." + +Hilmer did not betray the slightest surprise at Starratt's reply. +Evidently he had heard something of the same argument before. + +"Everybody does it," was his calmly brief rejoinder. + +"You mean Kendrick, to be exact... I'm sorry, but I don't see it that +way." + +"Do you mean that you would rather pass up a half-million-dollar line +than share the spoils?" + +"It isn't a question of choice, Hilmer. You must know I don't want to +lose five cents' worth of business. But there are some things a +gentleman doesn't do." + +He was sorry once the last remark had escaped him, but Hilmer didn't +seem disconcerted by the covert inference. + +"Scruples are like laws," Hilmer returned, affably. "I never saw one +yet that couldn't be gotten round legitimately." + +"Oh yes, you can subscribe to any one of the Ten Commandments with +your fingers crossed, if you like that kind of a game. But I don't." + +Hilmer moved in his seat with an implication of leave-taking. "Well, +every man to his own taste," he said, as he reached for the blue print +and proceeded to fold it up. + +Starratt leaned toward him. His attitude was strangely earnest. + +"Do you really like to participate in a game you know to be unfair, +Hilmer?--dishonest, in fact?" + +"Participating? I haven't signed any Broker's Exchange agreement. I'm +not breaking any pledge when I accept a share of insurance commission. +That's up to the other fellow." + +"Ah, but you know that he is breaking faith... And a man that will +double cross his associates will double cross you if the opportunity +presents itself... Would you put a man in charge of your cash drawer +when you knew that he had looted some one else's safe?" + +"That's not the same thing," Hilmer sneered. "That is, it's only the +same in theory. Practically, an insurance broker couldn't double cross +me if he wanted to... I wouldn't put a thief in charge of my cash +drawer, but I might make him a night watchman. He'd know all the +tricks of the trade." + +"Including the secret entrances that those on the outside wouldn't +know... A crook wouldn't stay all his life on the night-watchman's +job, believe me." + +He noticed that Helen was regarding him keenly and her glance +registered indulgent surprise rather than disapproval. Hilmer, too, +had grown a bit more tolerant. He felt a measure of pride in the +realization that he could make his points so calmly and +dispassionately, putting this rough-hewn man before him on the +defensive. But Hilmer's wavering was only momentary; he was not a man +to waste time in argument when he discovered that such a weapon was +futile. + +"Then I understand you don't want the business?" + +"Not on those terms." + +Hilmer shrugged. + +Helen leaned forward and put out a hand. "Let's see!" she half +commanded. + +Hilmer gave her the blue print and the package of memoranda. She began +to unfold one of the insurance forms, bending over it curiously. Fred +was puzzled. He knew that Helen was too unacquainted with insurance +matters to have any knowledge of the printed schedule she was +studying, yet he had to concede that she was giving a splendid +imitation of an experienced hand. Her acting annoyed him. He turned +toward Hilmer with an indifferent comment on the weather and the talk +veered to inconsequential subjects. Helen continued her scrutiny of +the forms. + +Finally Hilmer rose to go. Helen made no move to return the memoranda. +Fred cleared his throat and even coughed significantly, but Helen was +oblivious. Presently Starratt went up to his wife and said, +deliberately: + +"Hilmer is going ... you better give him back his papers." + +She turned a glance of startled innocence upon them both. "Oh!" she +exclaimed, petulantly. "How disappointing...and just as I was becoming +interested... Why don't you men go have your usual drink? I'll be +through with them then." + +Hilmer gave a silent assent and Fred followed him. There didn't seem +to be anything else to do. On the way out they met Hilmer's office boy +in the corridor. Hilmer was wanted on a matter of importance at the +office. He waved a brief farewell to Fred and left. + +Fred went back to his wife. She had abandoned the forms and was +lolling in her chair, sucking at an orange. + +"Hilmer's been called suddenly to his office on business," he said, +brusquely. She turned and faced him. "You'd better put those papers in +the safe. I'll take them back myself to-morrow. I can't see what +possessed you to insist on looking them over, anyway." + +She squeezed the orange in her hand. "Well, when we get ready to +handle the business I want to know something about it." + +He stared. "Handle the business? You heard what I said, didn't you?" + +"Yes, I heard," she said, wearily, and she went on with her orange. + +He did not say anything further, but the next morning a telephone +message put to rout his resolve to return Hilmer's insurance forms in +person. + +"I've got to go up Market Street to see a man about some workmen's +compensation," he explained to Helen. "You'd better put on your hat +and take those things to Hilmer yourself." + +She did not answer... + +He returned at three o'clock. Helen was very busy pounding away at the +typewriter. + +"Well, what's all the rush?" he asked. + +"I'm getting out the forms on Hilmer's shipping plant," she returned, +nonchalantly. + +"What do you mean?... Didn't you..." + +"No ... he's decided to let us handle the business." + +"Why ... on what grounds?" + +She waved a bit of carbon paper in the air. "How should I know? I +didn't ask him!" + +Her contemptuous indifference irritated him. "You ought to have waited +until I got back... You've probably got everything mixed up... It +takes experience to map out a big schedule like that." + +"Hilmer showed me what to do," she retorted, calmly. + +"Then he's been over here?" + +"Yes ... all morning." + +He narrowed his eyes. She went on with her typewriting. + +"Well, I'll be damned!" escaped him. + +His wife replied with a tripping laugh. + +At that moment Brauer came in. "I hear you've got the Hilmer line," he +broke out, excitedly. "They say Kendrick is wild... How much did you +have to split?" + +"Nothing," Starratt said, coldly. + +"Nothing?" Brauer's gaze swept from Starratt to Helen and back again. +"How did you land it, then?" + +Helen stood up, thrusting a pencil into her hair. + +"I landed it, Mr. Brauer," she said, sweetly, tossing her husband a +commiserating smile. + +Brauer's thin lips parted unpleasantly. "I told you at the start, +Starratt, that a good stenographer would work wonders." + +Fred forced a sickly laugh. He wished that Helen Starratt had stayed +at home where she belonged. + +It had been a long time since the insurance world on California Street +had been given such a chance for gossip as the shifting of the Hilmer +insurance provided. Naturally, business changes took place every day, +but it was unusual to have such a rank beginner at the brokerage game +put over so neat a trick. Speculation was rife. Some said that Hilmer +was backing the entire Starratt venture, that he, in fact, was +Starratt & Co., with Fred merely a salaried man, allowing his name to +be used. Others conceded a partnership arrangement. But Kendrick +announced in a loud tone up and down the street: + +"Partnership nothing! I know Hilmer. He's got too many irons in the +fire now. He wouldn't be annoyed with the insurance game. This fellow +Starratt is rebating--that's what he is!" + +Of course the street laughed. Kendrick's indignation was quite too +comic, considering his own reputation. To this argument, those who +held to the proprietor and partnership theories replied: + +"That may all be, but he wastes an awful lot of time in Starratt's +office for a fellow who's so rushed with his other ventures." + +It was at this point that a few people raised their eyebrows +significantly as they said: + +"Well, the old boy always did have a pretty keen eye for a skirt." + +It was impossible for Fred Starratt to move anywhere without hearing +fragments of all this gossip. During the noon hour particularly it +filtered through the midday tattle of business, pleasure, and +obscenity--at the Market, at Collins & Wheeland's, at Hjul's coffee +house, at Grover's Lunchroom--everywhere that clerks forgathered to +appease their hunger and indulge in idle speculations. Sometimes he +got these things indirectly through chance slips in talks with his +friends, again scraps of overheard conversation reached his ears. +Quite frequently a frank or a coarse acquaintance, without +embarrassment or reserve, would tell him what had been said. He soon +got over protesting. If he convinced anybody that he was getting +Hilmer's business without financial concessions, he had to take the +nasty alternative which the smirks of his audience betrayed... It +would not have been so bad if he could have explained the situation to +himself, but any attempt to solve the riddle moved in a vicious +circle. He used to long for a simplicity that would make him accept +Hilmer's favors on their face value. Why couldn't one believe in +friendship and disinterestedness? Perhaps it would have been easier if +he had lacked any knowledge of Hilmer's philosophy of life. Starratt +couldn't remember anything in the recital of Hilmer's past performance +or his present attitude that dovetailed with benevolence... He +retreated, baffled from these speculative tilts, to the refuge of a +comforting conviction that fortunately no man was thoroughly +consistent. Perhaps therein lay the secret of Hilmer's puzzling +prodigality--because, boiled down to hard facts, it was apparent that +Hilmer was making Starratt & Co. a present of several hundred dollars +a year. Sometimes, in a wild flight of conjecture, he used to wonder +how far his argument with Hilmer regarding the ethics of being a +negative party to another man's dishonesty had been borne home? It +seemed almost too fantastic to fancy that he could have put over his +rather finely spun business morality in such a brief flash, if at all. + +At first he had plunged in too speedily to his venture to formulate +many ideals of business conduct, but as he had progressed he found his +standards springing to life full grown. + +He had been long enough in the insurance business to realize the +estimate that average clients had of an insurance broker--they looked +upon him as a struggling friend or a poor relation or an agreeable, +persuasive grafter, whose only work consisted in talking them into +indifferent acceptance of an insurance policy and then pestering them +into a reluctant payment of the premium. Of course big business firms +recognized a broker's expertness or lack of it, though, quite +frequently, as in Hilmer's case, they were more snared by a share in +the profits than by the claims of efficiency. But Starratt wanted to +succeed merely on his merit. He wanted to teach people to say of him: + +"I go to Fred Starratt because he's the keenest, the most reliable man +in the field. And for no other reason." + +In short, he wished to earn his commission, and not to share it. He +wanted to prove to people that an insurance broker was neither a +barbered mendicant nor a genial incompetent. Had he known that a +conviction of his ability lay at the bottom of Hilmer's sudden change +in business tactics he would have been content. As it was, in spite of +the impetus this sudden push gave his career he had moments when he +would have felt happier without such dubious patronage. As a matter of +fact, Hilmer rather ignored him. He brought in his business usually +during Fred's absence from the office, and Helen, under his guidance, +had everything ready before her husband had time to suggest any line +of action. Forms, apportionments, applications--there did not seem to +be a detail that Hilmer had overlooked or Helen had failed to execute. +Starratt tried not to appear irritated. He didn't like to admit even +to himself that he could be small enough to resent his wife's curious +efficiency. But he wished she weren't there. One day he said to her, +as inconsequentially as he could: + +"I really think, my dear, that I ought to be planning to get a woman +here in your place... Now that Hilmer's business is reasonably +assured, I can afford it... It's too much to ask of you--keeping up +your house and doing this, too." + +"Well," she shrugged, "we can board if it gets too much for me." + +"You know I detest boarding." + +"I can hire help, then. Mrs. Finn would come in by the day. But, as a +matter of fact, this isn't any more strenuous than my year of the Red +Cross work. I managed then; I guess I can manage now." + +"But I thought you didn't like business life." + +"I'm not crazy about it ... but I want to get you started right. +Suppose you got a girl in here who didn't know how to manage Hilmer?" + +He checked the retort that rose to his lips... He couldn't help +getting the nasty inferences that people on the street threw at him +unconsciously or maliciously, but he _could_ help voicing them or +admitting them even to himself. + +"Is ... is Hilmer so hard to manage?" he found himself inquiring. + +Helen looked up sharply. "No harder than most men," she answered, +slipping easily from the traces of his cross-examination. + +His rancor outran his reserve. "I guess I'm vain," he threw out +bitterly, "but I'd like to feel that I could land one piece of +business without _anybody's_ help." + +She laughed indulgently. "Why, Freddie, that isn't nice! You landed +Hilmer at the start... Don't you remember that very first line? On his +automobile?" + +There was something insincere in her tone, in the lift of her eyes, in +her cryptic smile. But he smothered such unworthy promptings. It was +fresh proof of his own unreasonable conceit. He turned away from his +wife in silence, but he was sure that his face betrayed his feelings. + +Presently he felt her standing very close to him. He turned about +sharply, almost in irritation. Her mouth was raised temptingly. He +bent over and kissed her, but he withdrew as swiftly. Her lips left a +bitter taste that he could not define. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +March passed in a blur of wind and cold, penetrating rains. Except for +the placing of the insurance on the Hilmer shipbuilding plant, +business was dull. Fred began to make moves toward getting in money. +But it was heartbreaking work. The people who had yielded up their +consent so smilingly to Fred for personal accident policies, or +automobile insurance, passed him furtively on the street or sent word +out to him when he called at their offices that they were busy or +broke or leaving town. He did not attempt to do much toward collecting +the fire-insurance premiums. Most people with fire policies knew their +rights and stood by them. The premiums on March business were not due +until the end of May and it was useless to make the rounds much before +the middle of that month. + +The whisperings on the street continued, and a few surly growls from +Kendrick reached Fred's ears. One day a close friend of Fred, who knew +something of Insurance Exchange matters, said to him: + +"There's something going on inside, but I can't quite get the dope... +I hope you're not giving Kendrick the chance to have you called for +rebating... He's an ugly customer when he gets in action." + +Fred was annoyed. "I've told you again and again," he retorted, "that +I'm not yielding a cent on the Hilmer business." + +"It isn't that," was the reply. "Kendrick knows better than to stir up +a situation he's helped to befoul himself... No, it's another matter." + +Fred shrugged and changed the subject, but his thoughts flew at once +to Brauer. He decided not to say anything to his partner until he made +a move toward investigating, himself. + +The next morning he took a half dozen names of Brauer's customers at +random from the ledger and he made out bills for their premiums. +Practically all of Brauer's business was fire insurance, so Fred had +typical cases for his test. The first man he called on produced a +receipt from Brauer for the premium paid on the very day the policy +was issued. The second man protested that he had paid Brauer only the +day before. The third man stated brusquely that he had placed his +business through Brauer and he was the man he intended to settle with. +The fourth was noncommittal, but it was the fifth client who produced +the straw that betrayed the direction of the wind. + +"I want to see Brauer," the man said. "He promised to do something for +me." + +The sixth customer was even more direct. + +"There's something to come off the premium," he said. "Brauer knows." + +Fred did not wait for Brauer to come into the office--he went and took +him to lunch instead, where he could prod him away from Helen's sight +and hearing. + +"I'm surprised at you, Brauer," Starratt broke out suddenly, once they +were seated at Grover's and had given the girl their order. + +"Over what?" Brauer's face clouded craftily. + +"Why do you go about collecting premiums and holding them back from +the office?... That isn't sound business tactics." + +Brauer's sharp teeth glistened savagely in spite of his weak and +bloodless mouth. "What have you been doing ... bothering _my_ people? +I'll trouble you to let me attend to my own clients in future. Those +premiums aren't due for a good six weeks yet. When they are I'll turn +them in." + +Fred cooled a little in the face of Brauer's vehemence. "Oh, come now, +what's the use of talking like that? I'm not intending to bother your +customers, but there are some things due me... My name is on every one +of those policies. Therefore I ought to know when they are paid and +anything else about the business that concerns me. You know as well as +I do what is reasonable and just. Suppose you were taken ill. It +doesn't look right for a firm to go about making attempts to collect +premiums that have been paid." + +"Well ... you're pretty previous, Starratt, dogging folks in March for +money that isn't due until May," Brauer grumbled back. "What's the +idea, anyway?" + +Starratt leaned forward. "Just this, Brauer. I heard some ugly gossip +yesterday, and I wanted to find out if it had any justification. It +seems Kendrick is after us. He's going to try and get us on a rebating +charge. I saw six of your people ... and I'm reasonably sure that two +out of that six have been promised a rake-off... Do you call that fair +to me?" + +"That's a lie!" Brauer broke out, too emphatically. + +"I doubt it!" Starratt replied, coldly. "But that's neither here nor +there. What's done is done. But I don't want any more of it. I'm +playing a square game. I was ready to throw Hilmer overboard rather +than compromise, and I'll--" + +"Do the same thing to me, I suppose!" Brauer challenged. + +Fred looked at him steadily. "Precisely," he answered. + +The waitress arrived with their orders and Starratt changed the +subject... Brauer recovered his civility, but hardly his good temper. +At the close of the meal they parted politely. Fred could see that +Brauer was bursting with spite. For himself, he decided then and there +to eliminate Brauer at the first opportunity. + +A few days later Brauer came into the office with an order to place a +workmen's compensation policy. It covered the entire force of a +canning concern, and the premium was based upon a large pay roll. + +"I've had to split the commission with them," Brauer announced, +defiantly. "That's legitimate enough with this sort of business, isn't +it?" + +Starratt nodded. "It's done, but I'm not keen for it. However, there +isn't any law against it." + +The policy was made out and delivered to Brauer, and almost +immediately he came back with a check for the premium. "They paid me +at once," he exulted. + +Starratt refused to express any enthusiasm. Brauer sat down at a desk +and drew out his check book. "I guess I might as well settle up for +the other premiums I've collected," he said, "while I'm about it." + +He made out a long list of fire premiums and drew his check for their +full amount, plus the workmen's compensation premium in his +possession. But he took 5 per cent off the latter item. + +Starratt made no comment. But he was willing to stake his life that +the check from the canning company to Brauer was for a full premium +without any 5-per-cent reduction, and that Brauer, himself, was +withholding this alleged rebate and applying it to making up the +deficits on the fire premiums he had discounted. + +The next day Fred's friend said again: "Kendrick's doing some gum-shoe +work, Starratt... You'd better go awful slow." + +With the coming of May other anxieties claimed Starratt's attention. +Bills that he had forgotten or neglected began to pour in. There was +his tailor bill, long overdue, and two accounts with dry-goods stores +that Helen had run up in the days when the certainty of a fixed salary +income had seemed sure. A dentist bill for work done in December made +its appearance and, of course, the usual household expenditures went +merrily on. The rent of their apartment was raised. Collections were +slow. In March the commissions on collected premiums had just about +paid the office rent and the telephone... April showed up better, but +May, of course, held great promise. At the end of May the Hilmer +premiums would be due and the firm of Starratt & Co. on its feet, with +over two thousand dollars in commissions actually in hand. On the +strength of these prospects Helen began to order a new outfit. Fred +Starratt did not have the heart to complain. Helen had earned every +stitch of clothing that she was buying--there was no doubt about that; +still, he would have liked to be less hasty in her expenditures. He +had been too long in business to count much on prospects. He disliked +borrowing more money from Brauer, but there was no alternative. Brauer +fell to grumbling quite audibly over these advances, and he saw to it +that Fred's notes for the amounts always were forthcoming. Hilmer did +not come in quite so often to the office; a rush of shipbuilding +construction took him over to his yards in Oakland nearly every day. +But Mrs. Hilmer was in evidence a good deal. Helen was constantly +calling her up and asking her to drop downtown for luncheon or for a +bit of noonday shopping uptown or just for a talk. + +"She's a dear!" Helen used to say to Fred. "And I just love her to +death..." + +Fred could not fathom Helen. A year ago he felt sure that Mrs. Hilmer +was the last woman in the world that Helen would have found bearable, +much less attractive... He concluded that Helen was enjoying the +novelty of watching Mrs. Hilmer nibble at a discreet feminine +frivolity to which she was unaccustomed. After a while he looked for +outward changes in Mrs. Hilmer's make-up. He figured that the shopping +tours with Helen might be reflected in a sprightlier bonnet or a +narrower skirt or a higher heel on her shoe. But no such +transformation took place. Indeed, her costuming seemed to grow more +and more uncompromising--more Dutch, to use the time-worn phrase, made +significant to Fred Starratt by his mother. But Helen always made a +point to compliment her on her appearance. + +"You look too sweet for anything!" Helen would exclaim, rushing upon +her new friend with an eager kiss. + +At this Mrs. Hilmer always dimpled with wholesome pleasure. Well, she +did look sweet, in a motherly, bovine way, Fred admitted, when the +note of insincerity in his wife's voice jarred him. + +One day Mrs. Hilmer brought down a hat the two had picked out and +which had been altered at Helen's suggestion. She tried it on for +Helen's approval, and Fred stood back in a corner while Helen went +into ecstasies over it. Even a man could not escape the fact that it +was unbecoming. Somehow, in a subtle way, it seemed to accent all of +Mrs. Hilmer's unprepossessing features. When she left the office Fred +said to Helen, casually: + +"I don't think much of your taste, old girl. That hat was awful!" + +Helen laughed maliciously. "Of course it was!" she flung back. + +Starratt shrugged and said no more. There was kindliness back of many +deceits, but he knew now that Helen's insincerities with Mrs. Hilmer +were not justified by even so dubious virtue. + +At the moment when the Hilmer shipyard insurance had been turned over +to Fred Starratt he had at once made a move toward a reduction in the +rate. Having gone over the schedule at the Board of Fire Underwriters, +he had discovered that they had failed to give Hilmer credit in the +rating for certain fire protection. On the strength of Starratt's +application for a change a new rate was published about the middle of +May. Starratt was jubilant. Here was proof for Hilmer that his +interests were being guarded and that it paid to employ an efficient +broker. He flew at once to Hilmer's office. + +"Let me have your policies," he burst out. +"I've secured a new rate for you and I want the reduction indorsed." + +Hilmer did not appear to be moved by the announcement. + +"Better cancel and rewrite the bunch," he replied, briefly. + +Fred gasped. This meant that only about a sixth of the premium on the +present policies would be due and payable at the end of the month and +the prospects of a big clean-up on commissions delayed until July. + +"Oh, that won't be necessary," he tried to say, calmly. "This +reduction applies from the original date of the policies. It's just as +if they had been written up at the new rate." + +Hilmer ripped open a letter that he had been toying with. "Better +cancel," he announced, dryly. "It's a good excuse, and I'm a little +pressed for money. It will delay a big expenditure." + +There was no room for further argument. Fred left, crestfallen. Was +Hilmer making sport of him, he wondered. He must wait then until July +for an easy financial road. And would July see him? out of the woods? +Suppose Hilmer were to conjure up another excuse for canceling and +reissuing just as the second batch of premiums fell due? + +He voiced his fears and anxieties to Helen. She shrugged +indifferently. + +"You told me when you went into business that you weren't counting on +Hilmer," she observed, with a suggestion of a sneer. + +So he had thought or, at least, so he had pretended. What colossal +braveries he had assumed in his attempts to play a swaggering role! He +had started in with the determination to set a new standard in the +insurance world. _He_ was going to show people that a young man could +begin with nothing but honesty and merit and walk away with the +biggest kind of business. He knew that his hands were clean, but he +realized that not one in ten believed it. He had to confess that +appearances were against him. Scarcely anyone believed the Hilmer +myth. And underneath the surface was Brauer. Fred felt sure that +Brauer's ethical lapses were still in progress. At intervals Brauer +always contrived to place an insurance line other than fire and insist +that he was compelled to grant a discount. These premiums were always +settled promptly and, in their wake, a list of fire premiums paid in +full were turned in by Brauer. It was plain that Peter was being +robbed to pay Paul. Starratt even grew to fancy that there was a +substantial balance left over from these alleged discounts to clients, +which Brauer pocketed himself. But he had to smile and pretend that he +did not suspect. Were his hands clean, after all? Well, just as soon +as it was possible he intended to rid himself of Brauer. But how soon +_would_ that be possible? And meanwhile Kendrick was sniffing out +disquieting odors. + +He rallied from his first depression with a tight-lipped +determination. He was not trying out a business venture so much as he +was trying out himself. Previously he had always figured success and +failure as his performance reacted on his audience. He was learning +that one could impress a stupendous crowd and really fail, or strut +upon the boards of an empty playhouse and still succeed. He began to +realize just what was meant by the term self-esteem--how hard and +uncompromising and exacting it was. To disappoint another was a +humiliation; to disappoint oneself was a tragedy. And the tragedy +became deep in proportion to the ability to be self-searching. There +were moments when he closed his eyes to self-analysis...when it seemed +better to press on without disturbing glimpses either backward or +forward. He was eager to gain an economic foothold first--there would +be time later for recapitulations and readjustments to his widening +vision. + +The two months following were rough and uneven. He had to borrow +continually from Brauer, meet Hilmer with a bland smile, suffer the +covert sarcasms of his wife. Some money came in, but it barely kept +things moving. His broker friend had been right--the payment of any +premiums but fire premiums dragged on "till the cows came home." Many +of the policies that had seemed so easy to write up came back for +total cancellation. This man had buried a father, another had married +a wife, a third had bought a piece of ground--the excuses were all +valid, and they came from friends, so there was nothing to do but +smile and assure them that it didn't matter. + +But somehow Starratt weathered the storm and the day came when the +Hilmer insurance fell due. Fred found Hilmer absent from his desk, but +the cashier received him blandly. Yes, they were ready to pay, in fact +the check was drawn and only awaited Hilmer's signature. To-morrow, at +the latest, it would be forthcoming. Fred drew a long sigh of relief. +He went back to his office whistling. + +In the hallway he met Brauer. + +"I want to have a talk with you," Brauer began, almost apologetically. + +Fred waved him in and Brauer came direct to the point. He was +dissatisfied with the present arrangement and he was ready to pull out +if Fred were in a position to square things. His demands were +extraordinarily fair--he asked to have the notes for any advances met, +plus 50 per cent of the profit on any business he had turned in. He +claimed no share of the profits on Fred's business. + +"I suppose you've collected the Hilmer premiums," he threw out, +significantly. + +Fred nodded and began a rapid calculation. It turned out that he had +borrowed about $500 from his partner and that 50 per cent of the +commissions on the Brauer business came to a scant $125. Well, his +profits on the Hilmer insurance would be in the neighborhood of $1,900 +under the new rate. To-morrow he would be in possession of this sum. +It was too easy! He drew out his check book, deciding to close the +deal before Brauer had a chance to change his mind. Brauer received +the check with a bland smile and surrendered the notes and the +partnership agreement. + +At the door they shook hands heartily. Brauer said at parting: + +"Well, good luck, old man... I hope you aren't sore." + +Fred tried to suppress his delight. "Oh no, nothing like that! If it +_had_ to come I'm glad to see everything end pleasantly." + +And as Brauer drifted down the hall Starratt called out, suddenly: + +"I say, Brauer, don't put that check through the bank until day after +to-morrow, will you?" + +Brauer nodded a swift acquiescence and disappeared into a waiting +elevator. + +Fred retreated to his desk. "Well," he said to Helen, as he let out a +deep sigh, "that's what I call easy!" + +She looked up from her work. "Almost too easy," she answered. He made +no reply and presently she said: "You didn't tell me how tightly you +let him sew us up. With signed notes and that agreement he could have +been nasty... It's strange he didn't wait a day or two and then claim +half of the Hilmer commissions... I wonder why he was in such a rush?" + +Fred shrugged. Helen's shrewdness annoyed him. + +That evening just as Helen and he were getting ready to leave, a +messenger from the Broker's Exchange handed him a note. He broke the +seal and read a summons to appear before the executive committee on +the following morning. His face must have betrayed him, for Helen +halted the adjustment of her veil as she inquired: + +"What's wrong? Any trouble?" + +He recovered himself swiftly. "Oh no ... just a meeting at the +Exchange to-morrow." + +But as he folded up the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket he +began to have a suspicion as to the reason for Brauer's haste. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next morning Fred Starratt went down to the office alone. Mrs. +Hilmer had telephoned the night before an invitation for Helen to join +them in a motor trip down the Ocean Shore Boulevard to Half moon Bay +and home by way of San Mateo. Hilmer was entertaining a party of Norse +visitors. Helen demurred at first, but Fred interrupted the +conversation to insist: + +"Go on ... by all means! The change will be good for you. I can run +the office for a day." + +Secretly he was glad to be rid of his wife's presence. He didn't know +what trouble might be impending and he wanted to face the music +without the irritation of a prying audience. + +His fears were confirmed. He had been brought before the executive +committee on a charge of rebating preferred by Kendrick. The evidence +was complete in at least three cases and they all involved Brauer's +clients. In short, Kendrick had sworn affidavits from three people to +the effect that a representative of Starratt & Co. had granted a +discount on fire-insurance business. Obviously all three cases had +been planted by Kendrick, and Brauer had walked into the trap with +both feet. There was nothing for Fred to do but to explain the whole +situation--who Brauer was and why he had an interest in the firm. He +found the committee reasonably sympathetic, but they still had their +suspicions. Fred could see that even the sudden withdrawal of Brauer +from partnership with him had its questionable side. It looked a bit +like clever connivance. However, his inquisitors promised to look +fairly into the question before presenting an ultimatum. + +Fred went back to his office reassured. He had a feeling that in the +end the committee would purge him or at least give him another chance. +It was inconceivable that they would pronounce the penalty of +expulsion, although they might impose a fine. He was so glad to be rid +of Brauer, though, that he counted the whole circumstance as little +short of providential. + +He found a large mail at the office and quite a few remittances, but +the Hilmer check was not in evidence. He remembered now, with chagrin, +that Hilmer was away for the day. Still, there was a possibility that +he had signed the check late last night. He called up Hilmer's office. +No, the check had not been signed. Fred reminded the cashier that this +was the last day to get the money into the companies. But the watchdog +of the Hilmer treasury had been through too many financial pressures +to be disturbed. + +"They'll have to give us the usual five-day cancellation notice," he +returned, blandly. "And payment will be made before the five days +lapse." + +Fred hung up the phone and cursed audibly. Of course a day or two or +three wouldn't have made any difference ordinarily. But there was that +damn check out to Brauer. Well, he had told Brauer to hold it until +Friday. There was still another day. He hated to go around and ask any +further favors of his contemptible ex-partner, and he hoped he +wouldn't have to request another postponement to the formality of +putting the Brauer check through. Of course he had had no business +making out a check for funds not in hand. But under the +circumstances... What in hell was he worrying for? Everything would +come out all right. What could Brauer do about it, anyway? As a matter +of fact, he figured that under the circumstances he had a perfect +right to stop payment on that Brauer check if he had been so disposed. +For a moment the thought allured him. But his surrender to such a +petty retaliation, passed swiftly. No, he wouldn't tar himself with +any such defiling brush. He'd simply wipe Brauer from the slate and +begin fresh. + +He kept to his office all day. He didn't want to run afoul of either +Kendrick or Brauer on the street, and, besides, with Helen away, it +was a good day to clean up a lot of odds and ends that had been +neglected during the pressure of soliciting business. It was six +o'clock when he slammed down his roll-top desk and prepared to leave. +He had planned to meet Helen for dinner at Felix's. He found himself a +bit fagged and he grew irritated at the thought that prohibition had +robbed him of his right of easy access to a reviving cocktail. He knew +many places where he could buy bad drinks furtively, but he resented +both the method and the vileness of the mixtures. He was putting on +his coat when he heard a rap at the door. He crossed over and turned +the knob, admitting a man standing upon the threshold. + +"Is this Mr. Starratt?" the stranger began. + +Fred nodded. + +"Well, I'm sorry to bring bad news, but there's been a nasty accident. +Mr. Hilmer's car went over a bank near Montara this afternoon... Mrs. +Hilmer was hurt pretty badly, but everybody else is fairly well off... +Your wife asked me to drop in and see you. I drove the car that helped +rescue them... Don't be alarmed; Mrs. Starratt isn't hurt beyond a +tough shaking up. But she feels she ought to stay with Mrs. +Hilmer--under the circumstances." + +Fred tried to appear calm. "Oh yes, of course ... naturally... And how +about Hilmer himself?" + +The man shrugged. "He's pretty fair. So far a broken arm is all +they've found wrong with him." + +"His right arm, I suppose?" Fred suggested, with an air of +resignation. He was wondering whether anybody at Hilmer's office had +authority to sign checks. + +"Yes," the visitor assented, briefly. + +Fred Starratt had a hasty meal and then he took a direct car line for +the Hilmers'. He had never been to their house, but he found just +about what he had expected--a two-story hand-me-down dwelling in the +Richmond district, a bit more pretentious and boasting greater garden +space than most of the homes in the block. Helen answered his ring. +She had her wrist in a tight bandage. + +"Just a sprain," she explained, rather loftily. "The doctor says it +will be all right in a day or two." + +Fred sat down in an easy-chair and glanced up and down the living +room. It was scrupulously neat, reflecting a neutral taste. The +furniture was a mixture of golden and fumed oak done in heavy mission +style and the pictures on the wall consisted of dubious oil paintings +and enlarged photographs. A victrola stood in a corner, and the +upright piano near the center of the room formed a background for a +precisely draped, imitation mandarin skirt and a convenient shelf for +family photographs and hand-painted vases. On the mantel an elaborate +onyx-and-bronze clock ticked inaudibly. + +Helen sat apart, almost with the detachment of a hostess receiving a +casual acquaintance, as she recounted the incidents of the disastrous +ride. Hilmer had been driving fairly carefully, but in swerving to +avoid running down a cow that suddenly had made its appearance in the +road the machine had skidded and gone over a steep bank. Mrs. Hilmer's +condition was really quite serious. The doctor had intimated that even +if she pulled through she might never walk again. They had a nurse, of +course--two, in fact--but some one had to be there to look after +things. The servant girl was just a raw Swede who did the heavy +work--Mrs. Hilmer always had done most of the cooking herself. + +Fred inquired for Hilmer. He had a broken wrist and several bad +sprains and bruises, but he was resting easily. + +"I didn't get that check for the premiums to-day," Fred said. + +Helen rose from her seat. "I'll speak to him about it to-morrow," she +returned, lightly. + +Her movement implied dismissal. Fred left his seat and stood for a +moment, awkwardly fingering his hat. + +"I suppose," he faltered, "you don't know just how long you'll be +needed here." + +"That depends," she answered, shrugging. + +"Then I'd better get some one in temporarily at the office." + +She nodded. + +"Well, good night," he said. + +She kissed him perfunctorily and presently he found himself in the +street again, bound for home. + +A low fog was whitening the air and the breeze blowing in fresh from +the ocean was sharp of tooth. Fred shivered slightly and buttoned his +overcoat. + +"I guess she's still kind of dazed," he muttered to himself. But above +his perplexity soared a fresh determination. He would get a woman in +his wife's place in the office and he would keep her there. It was +time Helen stayed home where she belonged. + +The next morning he went early to Hilmer's office. The cashier took +him aside. + +"Hilmer has authorized me to sign checks," he explained. "But I +understand you're in wrong with the Exchange... I think I'll make out +checks direct to the different companies. That's always the safest +thing to do in a jam." + +Fred was too furious even to protest. "I don't quite get the idea," he +returned. "But that's up to you. If you want to write thirty-odd +checks instead of one, that's your business, I suppose." + +"Oh, that isn't any trouble," returned the man, complacently. + +Fred swung back to his office. Kendrick must have been gossiping with +a vengeance! What would the insurance offices on the street think when +they received their checks direct from the Hilmer company? It was +insulting! And now he would have to trail about collecting his +commissions instead of merely withholding them from the remittance +that should have been put in his hand. Still, on second thought, he +did feel relieved to know that the matter wouldn't drag on any +longer--that he wouldn't have to ask Brauer to hold off with his bank +deposit another moment. He waited until after the noon hour to begin +the collection of his commissions. Hilmer's cashier had promised to +send his messenger around to the different companies before eleven +o'clock. + +He went into the first office with an assumption of buoyance. The +cashier looked down at him through quizzical spectacles. Yes, the +Hilmer premium was in, but he was very sorry--he couldn't pay Starratt +& Co. anything. + +"Why?" Fred demanded, hotly. + +Because the Insurance Broker's Exchange had sent out a circular asking +the companies to withhold any commissions due that firm until certain +charges of rebating were investigated further and disproved. + +Fred fled to the Exchange. The secretary was out, but his stenographer +confirmed the circular. Fred went back to his office to think things +over. Again he was tempted to repudiate the Brauer check at the bank +and let Brauer do his worst. But he drew back from such a course with +his usual repugnance. He saw now that all his high-flown theory about +standing on his own feet was the merest sophistry. So far, he was +nothing but the product of Hilmer's puzzling benevolence. One jam in +the wheel and everything halted. He thought the whole matter out. He +was still what Hilmer had intimated on the night of that disturbing +dinner party--a creature with a back bent by continual bowing and +scraping--a full-grown man with standards inherited instead of +acquired. Why didn't he go around to the office of Ford, Wetherbee & +Co. and beat up his nasty little ex-partner? Why didn't he meet +Kendrick's gumshoe activities with equal stealth? It should have been +possible to snare Kendrick if one had the guts. And why accept a +gratuity from Hilmer in the shape of two thousand dollars more or less +for commissions on business that one never really had earned the right +to? He began to suspect that Hilmer had instructed his cashier to pay +the companies direct. It was probably his patron's way of forcing home +the idea that the commissions _were_ a gratuity. No doubt even now he +was chuckling at the spectacle of Starratt running about the street +picking up the doles. He decided, once and for all, that he wouldn't +go on being an object of satirical charity. He wouldn't refuse the +Hilmer business, but he would put it on the proper basis. He would put +a proposition squarely up to Hilmer whereby Hilmer would become a +definite partner in the firm--Hilmer, Starratt & Co., to be exact. +This would mean not only an opportunity to handle all the Hilmer +business itself, but to control other insurance that Hilmer had his +finger in. There would be no silent partners, no gratuitous assistance +from either clients or wife, no evasions. From this moment on +everything was to be upon a frank and open basis. + +He went out at once to see Hilmer. His wife answered the door as she +had done previously and he sat in the same seat he had occupied the +night before. He had a sense of intrusion--he felt that he was being +tolerated. Helen had removed the bandage from her wrist and she looked +very handsome in the half-light of a screened electric bulb. He +noticed that flowers had been placed in one of the vases on the +mantelshelf and that the mandarin skirt clung a trifle less precisely +to the polished surface of the oak piano. A magazine sprawled face +downward on the floor. Already the impress of Mrs. Hilmer on the +surroundings was becoming a trifle blurred. + +He came at once to the point--he had a business proposition to make to +Hilmer and he wished to see him. + +But Helen was not to be excluded from the secret of his mission that +easily. The doctor had denied anybody access to Hilmer; therefore, +unless it was very urgent... + +"I want to see about a partnership arrangement," Fred explained, +finally. + +Helen stirred in her seat. "You mean that you want him to go in with +us?... What's the reason? He's satisfied." + +Fred drew himself up. "But I'm not!" he answered, decidedly. + +She shrugged. "We've had one experience...we'd better think twice +before we make another break." + +"_I've_ thought it all over," he replied, pointedly. + +She colored and flashed a sharp glance at him. "I spoke to him about +the premiums this morning... He tells me he ordered them paid." "Yes +... direct to the companies... That's one of the reasons that made me +decide to get things on a better working basis... I'm tired of being +an object of charity." + +She smiled coldly. Well, Hilmer simply wouldn't receive anyone now, +and she herself didn't see the reason for haste. He ended by telling +her the reason ... there was no other way out of the situation. + +"Oh," she drawled, when he had finished, "so getting rid of Brauer was +_too_ easy, after all!" She made no other comment, but he read her +scornful glance. "Any fool would have guessed that!" was what it +implied. + +Still, even with the fact of Brauer's craftiness exposed, she could +not be persuaded that the proposition was quite that urgent. + +"You don't?" he inquired, with growing irritation. "Well, you've +forgotten that check for some six hundred-odd dollars I wrote for +Brauer the other day... I presume you know it's a felony to give out +checks when there aren't sufficient funds on deposit." + +She stared at him. "That's absurd!" she exclaimed. "Brauer wouldn't go +that far!" + +He quite agreed there, but he didn't say so. Instead, he insisted that +anything was possible. They argued the matter scornfully. In the end +he won. + +"Well, I'll try," she announced, coldly. "I'll do my best... But I'm +sure he won't see you." + +She left the room with an indefinable air of boredom. He rose from his +seat and began to pace up and down. The whole situation had a +suggestion of unreality. In pleading with Helen for a chance to talk +to Hilmer he had a sense of crossing swords with some intangible and +sinister shadow; his wife seemed suddenly to have arrived at a state +toward which she had been traveling all these last uncertain weeks ... +fading, fading from the frame of his existence. Was he growing +hypersensitive or merely unreasonable? + +Fifteen minutes passed ... a half hour...an hour. Starratt stopped his +restless movements and picked up the sprawling magazine... Presently +Helen came into the room. He rose. + +Her thin-lipped smile shaped itself with a tolerant geniality as she +came toward him with complacent triumph. + +"Well," she began, easily, "I got a thousand dollars out of him." + +He went up close to her. "A thousand... I don't quite understand." + +She flourished a check in his face. "Oh, he can sign checks with his +left hand," she threw back, gayly. + +"You mean you've spoken to him about the partnership and..." + +"Of course not ... he wasn't in any humor for that." + +"Well, then, what is this check for?" + +She drew back a little. "Why, it's to help you out, of course. Don't +you want it?" + +He felt himself grow suddenly cold as he stood and watched her recoil +momentarily from his two-edged glance. "No!" he retorted. + +She continued to back away from him. He followed her retreat. + +"I don't think you quite get me, Helen," he heard himself say, with +icy sharpness. "I wanted to see Hilmer _myself! I had a business +proposition to put up to him. I want co-operation--not questionable +charity!" + +She flung back her head, but her voice lacked defiance as she said: + +"Was that meant as an insult?" + +"No," he returned, quietly, "as a warning." + +She stood silent, facing him with that clear, disarming gaze that she +knew how to achieve so perfectly. He felt a great yearning overwhelm +him ... a desire to meet her halfway ... a vagrant displeasure at his +ill-natured irritation. + +"How is Mrs. Hilmer?" he asked, suddenly, as he reached for his hat. + +She shrugged. "There isn't any change," she replied, almost inaudibly. + +"Shall I bring you anything from the apartment?" + +"No... I'll go myself this afternoon and get some things together... I +need a little air, anyway." She followed him to the door. "Then I +understand you don't want this?" she inquired, indicating the check in +her hand. + +His only answer was an incredulous stare. + +"What excuse shall I make him?" + +He put on his hat. The flame of his displeasure had cooled, but he was +still inflexible. "None, so far as I am concerned." + +A retort died on her lips. He could see that she was puzzled. + +"Well, so long," he ventured. + +She drew herself up with the swift movement of one parrying a blow. + +"So long!" she echoed, and the door closed sharply. + +He went down the steps. There was an air of finality in his retreat... +At the office he found a note from Brauer. + +Your check has been returned to me... I shall put it through the bank +again to-morrow. + +He crumpled the sheet of paper and dropped it into the waste basket. +How much would Brauer dare? he wondered. + +That night the friend who had first warned him against Kendrick met +him on California Street. + +"I see my prophecy came true, Fred," he hazarded. "Why didn't you tell +me that Brauer was your partner?... By the way, I saw Kendrick and him +going to lunch together to-day. What's the idea?" + +Fred lifted his eyebrows and laughed a toneless reply. What _was_ the +idea? He wished he knew. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The next day passed in complete inaction. Frankly, Starratt did not +know what move to make. He felt that he should have been trying to +square matters, but to raise offhand six hundred-odd dollars was a +feat too impossible to even attempt. He had few relations, and these +few were remote and penniless, and his friends were equally lacking in +financial resource. He was confident that he could convince Hilmer of +the soundness of his new plan once he achieved an interview. But all +his pride rose up to combat the suggestion that he present himself +before Helen and plead for an audience. Once he had an impulse to go +to the president of the bank and ask for an advance at the proper rate +of interest. He knew scores of cases where banks loaned money on +personality; he had heard many a bank official express himself to the +effect that a poor man with a vision and integrity was a better chance +any day than a millionaire lacking a goal or scruples. But in the end +he was swung from any initiative by a passive desire to even his score +with Brauer. After all, it was diverting to wait for his ex-partner's +next move. Brauer had had no compunctions in tricking him. Why, then, +should he worry? No, it would be fun just to let Brauer stew in a +sample of his own Teutonic duplicity. + +He felt a relief at Helen's absence from the office. He had never +wanted her there and he was determined not to have her back. Last +night she had entirely misread the reason back of his desire for an +interview with Hilmer, and he had been moved to a nasty rancor. But +now he felt tolerant, rather than displeased. Women were often like +that, a bit unethical regarding money. In wheedling a check out of +Hilmer she had used the easiest weapons a woman possessed. She had +meant well, Fred concluded, using that time-worn excuse which has +served nearly every questionable act since the world began. And in the +final analysis, he really blamed himself. Such humiliation was usually +the price a man paid when he let the women of his household share in +the financial responsibility. He should have hoed his own row and +wiped the sweat of his labors upon his own coat sleeve. Well, Hilmer +would be about in a few days and meanwhile Brauer would have some +uncomfortable hours. In the end, no doubt, after Brauer had collected +his six hundred dollars, he would go into a partnership with Kendrick. +That explained the mystery of these two linen-collared crooks lunching +together... After all, there was an element of humor in the whole +situation. + +On Saturday morning Starratt overslept and he did not get down to the +office until nearly ten o'clock. He was picking up the mail that had +been dropped through the door when the janitor came close to him. Fred +gave a sharp glance and the man said: + +"There's been a guy waiting around since eight o'clock, watching your +door... I think he must have a paper or something to serve on you... +Matter of fact, he looked like a fly cop to me... I asked him what he +wanted and he just smiled..." + +Fred laughed a careless rejoinder and the janitor went down the hall, +brushing the marble dado with his bedraggled feather duster. + +Fred Starratt closed the door softly and sat down at his desk, trying +to concentrate on his mail. He felt a sudden chill. But he managed, +after a fashion, to fix his mind upon immediate problems. Twice during +the morning he made a move toward leaving to do some soliciting, but +almost at once he invented an excuse which dissuaded him. + +When he went out to lunch he passed a man loitering in the hall. A +crowded elevator shot past. Fred decided to walk down the stairs ... +the man followed at a nonchalant and discreet distance. Starratt +lingered in the marble-flanked doorway... The man crossed the street +and stood on the corner. + +Fred decided to lunch at Hjul's. During the short walk to his +destination he dismissed everything from his mind except the +anticipation of food. He discovered he was very hungry and it struck +him that he had forgotten to breakfast. He had come away from the +house with the idea of getting a cup of coffee in a waffle kitchen on +Kearny Street and his preoccupation had routed this vague plan. He was +chuckling over his lapse when he swung into Hjul's and took a seat +near the window. He ordered a hot roast-beef sandwich and coffee as he +shared his joke with the waitress. She brushed some crumbs from the +table with a napkin, laughed, and went scampering for the order. +Fred's eyes followed her retreat and fell sharply upon the line of men +drifting in the narrow entrance. At the tag end loomed the figure of +the man who had followed him down the stairs from his office. Fred +picked up a newspaper. The man sat down at a table in a far corner. +Over the edge of the newspaper Fred stole a furtive glance. The man +was of slippery slenderness, with a rather round, expressionless face. +His eyes were beady and shifting, and his lips thin and pale and +cruel. The waitress came tripping back with Starratt's order. Fred +fell to. + +Presently Fred finished. He rose deliberately, taking time to brush +every crumb from his lap. At the door he reached for a whisk broom and +wielded it conspicuously. He could not have said whether bravado or +contempt was moving him to such flamboyant dawdling. Or was he merely +trying to persuade himself that he had nothing to fear in any case? He +stepped out into a shower of noonday sunshine flooding through a rift +in the high fog of a July morning in San Francisco. A delicious thrill +from open spaces communicated itself to him. No, he would not go back +to the office--it was Saturday, anyway, and, besides, he felt a vague +desire for freedom and the tang of wind-clean air. He would ride out +to Golden Gate Park and stroll leisurely through its length to the +ocean... He walked briskly down Montgomery Street to Market, waited a +few seconds at a safety station, and finally swung on a car... He was +standing before a tiny lake at the Haight Street entrance to the Park, +watching a black swan ruffling its feathers, when he felt a presence +near him. He did not lift his eyes for some moments, but when he did +look up it was to see his shifty friend of the morning pretending to +be amused at a group of noisy sparrows quarreling over a windfall of +crumbs... Fred Starratt moved on. + +All afternoon Fred Starratt wandered about--sometimes dawdling +defiantly, sometimes dropping into a brisk pace, but at every turn his +new-found shadow followed at an inconspicuous distance. The afternoon +sun was gracious, tinged with a pleasant coolness, and far to the west +a blue-gray fog bank waited for evening to let down the day's warm +barriers. Fred Starratt's thoughts were abrupt and purposeless, like +the unsustained flights of wing-clipped birds. He knew that he was +being followed, and he had a confused sense of something impending, +and yet he was unable or unwilling to face the issue honestly. There +were moments when he glimpsed the truth, but he seemed unmoved by +these truant realizations. Was he too tired to care? He used to +wonder, when he read in the newspapers of some man overtaken by an +overwhelming disgrace, how it was possible to go on living under such +circumstances. Was his indifference of this afternoon the preliminary +move in a long series of heartbreaking compromises and retreats? he +asked himself. But he did not attempt to answer any of these darting +questions. After all, the sun was shining and about him the world +seemed to be swinging on with disarming normality. Upon the trimmed +lawns peacocks strutted and shrieked and from remoter distances the +soft call of the quail echoed caressingly. It was good to be alive, +with one's feet firmly planted on the earth. To be alive and _free_! + +He passed the conservatory and the sunken gardens, flamboyant with +purple-and-gold pansies; he dawdled over the aviary and the bear +cages. He even stopped for tea at the Japanese garden, throwing bits +of sweetened rice-flour cakes to the goldfishes in their +chocolate-colored pond near the tea pavilion. He found himself later +skirting Stow Lake, pursued by flocks of ubiquitous coots, bent upon +any stray crumbs flung in their direction. Finally he dipped suddenly +down into the wilder reaches of the Park, taking aimless trails that +wandered off into sandy wastes or fetched up quite suddenly upon the +trimly bordered main driveway. He always had preferred the untamed +stretches that lay beyond Stow Lake. Here, as a young boy, he had +organized scouting parties when it was still a remote, almost an +unforested sand pile. Later, when the trees had conquered its +bleakness, Helen and he had spent many a Saturday afternoon tramping +briskly through the pines to the ocean. How long ago that seemed, and +yet how very near! Not long in point of time, somehow, but long in +point of accessibility. He seemed to be standing, as it were, upon the +threshold of a past that he could glimpse, but not re-enter. Even +Helen seemed remote--a part of the background that had been, instead +of an equal spectator with him in a review of these dead events. + +It was nearly five o'clock when he drew near the first wind-stunted +pine trees heralding the ocean. He quickened his step. Already the +breeze was tearing across the unscreened spaces and carrying damp +wisps of fog with it. As he found his steps swinging into the ocean +highway he turned and looked back. His discreet pursuer had +disappeared. There was not a soul in sight! + +His heart gave a sudden leap. He hurried forward. A street car was +rounding the terminal loop on its return to town. He clattered aboard. +He felt suddenly free and light hearted, almost gay. What would he do +now? Look up Helen at Hilmer's and persuade her to dine with him +somewhere downtown?... He remembered that he had not even telephoned +her for two days. The conviction that had settled upon him during his +walk through the Park woods descended again. Helen seemed impersonal +and unapproachable... He felt a desire for noise and conviviality and +laughter. He decided to look in at the St. Francis bar and see if he +could chance upon a hilarious friend or two. + +Starratt had overlooked the fact of war-time prohibition when he +picked the St. Francis bar as a place of genial fellowship. The memory +of its old-time six-o'clock gayety was still fresh enough to trick +him. He swung into its screened entrance to find it practically +deserted. The old bustle and hoarse conversation and hearty laughter +were replaced by dreary silence. The provocative rattle of ice in the +highball glass, the appetizing smell of baked ham from the free-lunch +counter, the thick, pungent clouds of tobacco smoke--all had been +routed by chill, hypocritical virtue. One or two of the tables were +surrounded by solemn circles of males getting speedily drunk in an +effort to finish up the melancholy remains filched from some private +stock, but their attempts at light-heartedness were very sad and +maudlin. Fred was moving away when he heard his name called. He turned +to find a group of business associates from California Street sitting +before two bottles of Scotch, which were ministering to their rather +dour conviviality. Starratt started to wave a mingled greeting and +farewell when his raised hand fell heavily against his side--in the +polished depths of the bar's flawless mirror loomed the unwelcome +figure that had pursued him all day!... He went over and joined his +friends. + +He had one drink ... two ... another. Then he lost count ... but the +supply seemed inexhaustible. A sudden rush of high spirits keyed him +tensely. He talked and laughed and waved his arms about, calling upon +everybody to witness his light-heartedness. Through the confused blur +of faces surrounding him he caught an occasional glimpse of the thin, +cruel lips and the shifting, beady eyes of his pursuer sitting over a +flat drink which he left untouched. + +Presently somebody in the party suggested a round of the bohemian +joints. The motion was noisily seconded... Fred staggered to his feet. +They began with the uptown tenderloin, drifting in due time through +the Greek cafes on Third Street. Finally they crossed Market Street +and began to chatter into the tawdry dance halls of upper Kearny. +Everywhere the drinks flowed in covert streams, growing viler and more +nauseous as the pilgrimage advanced. Near Jackson Street they came +upon a bedraggled pavilion of dubious gayety which lured them +downstairs with its ear-splitting jazz orchestra. A horde of rapacious +females descended upon them like starving locusts. Suddenly everybody +in the party seemed moved with a desire for dancing--except Fred. +While the others whirled away he sank into a seat, staring vacantly +ahead. He had reached the extreme point of his drunkenness and he was +pulling toward sobriety again... He came out of his tentative stupor +with the realization that a woman was seating herself opposite him. + +"What's your name?" he demanded, thickly. + +"Ginger," she replied. + +He took a sharper look. A pale, somewhat freckled face, topped by a +glory of fading red hair, thrust itself rather wistfully forward for +his inspection. + +"Go 'way!" he waved, disconsolately. "Go 'way. I don't wanna dance!" + +She smiled with the passive resistance of her kind. "Neither do I," +she assented. "Let's just sit here and talk." + +"Don't wanna talk!" he threw back, sullenly. + +"All right," she agreed; "anything you say... Got a cigarette?" + +He drew out a box and she selected one. The waiter hovered about +significantly. Fred ordered coffee ... Ginger took Whiterock. They +were silent. The music crashed and banged and whinnied, and the air +grew thick with the mingled odors of smoke and stale drinks and sex. + +Finally Fred leaned forward and said in a whisper, "Tell me--has a +snaky-looking dub come into this joint?" + +Ginger swept the room with her glance. "In a gray derby and a green +tie?" + +"Yes." + +"He's over in the corner--talking to a couple of fly cops." + +He reached for a cigarette himself. His voice was becoming steadier. +"What do you think his game is?" + +She pursed her lips. "Oh, I guess he's a private detective," she +appraised, shrewdly. "He isn't quite heavy enough for a real bull." + +He struck a match. "He's been following me all day," he admitted. + +"Somebody's keeping tab, eh?... Is friend wife on the trail?" + +He laughed tonelessly and cast the match aside. The sharp little face +opposite was quickening with interest. + +"No ... I let a bad check get out... _You_ know--no funds." + +"Whew!" escaped her. "That isn't pretty!" + +"You're damned right it isn't!" he echoed, emphatically. + +She clutched at his wrist. "Say, the whole three are coming this +way... I guess they've got a warrant... Don't fight back, whatever you +do!" + +Her words sobered him. She was right--three men were coming toward his +table. He rose with a flourish of dignity. + +"Looking for me?" he asked. + +"If your name is Starratt, we are," one of the men said, moving up +closely. + +"What's the idea?" + +The spokesman of the group flashed his star. "You're wanted on a +bad-check charge." + +Fred reached for his hat. "All right... Let's get out quietly." + +His brain was perfectly clear, but he staggered a trifle as he +followed the men along the edge of the dancing space to the stairway. +The music crashed furiously. Fred's associates were giving all their +attention to treading the uncertain steps of their tawdry bacchanal, +so they missed his exit. + +Halfway up the stair leading to the sidewalk Fred was halted by a +touch upon his arm. He had forgotten Ginger, but there she stood with +that childish, almost wistful, look on her face. + +"Say," she demanded, "can I do anything? I've got a pull if I want to +use it." + +The other three men turned about and waited. The snaky one laughed. +Fred looked at her curiously. + +"You might phone my wife," he returned. "But don't say anything to the +boys!" + +"Where does she live?... I'll go now and see her. That is--if--" + +For a moment Fred Starratt hesitated. Would it be quite the thing to +let a woman like this... But as quickly a sense of his ingratitude +swept him. Whether it was the thing or not, it was impossible to wound +the one person who stood so ready to serve him. A great compassion +seemed suddenly to flood him--for a moment he forgot his own plight. + +"I don't remember the number of the house ... she's with friends. +You'll find the name in the telephone book... Hilmer--Fourteenth +Avenue. Ask for Mrs. Starratt." + +"Axel Hilmer ... the man who--" + +"He's a shipbuilder. Do you know him?" + +She smiled wanly. "Yes ... I know lots of people." + +Fred felt his arm jerked roughly, and the next thing he found himself +half flung, half dragged toward the curb. Instinctively he shook +himself free. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded. + +The ringleader of the group reached forward and grabbed him roughly. + +"D'yer think we've got all night to stand around here while you turn +on sob stuff with a dance-hall tart? You shut up and come with us!" + +"I'm coming as quickly as I can," Starratt retorted. + +He was answered by a hard-fisted blow in the pit of the stomach. He +doubled up with a gasping groan. A crowd began to gather. Presently he +recovered his breath. The blow had completely sobered and calmed him. +He felt that he could face anything now. The jail was just across the +street, so they walked, pursued by a knot of curious idlers. + +They went through a narrow passageway, separating the Hall of Justice +from the jails, and rang a bell for the elevator. In stepping into the +cage Fred Starratt tripped and lurched forward. He was rewarded by a +stinging slap upon the face. He drew himself up, clenching his fists. +He had often wondered how it felt to be seized with a desire to shoot +a man down in cold blood. Now he knew. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The men at the booking desk treated Fred Starratt with a rough +courtesy. They did not make the required search of his person unduly +humiliating, and, when they were through, one of the men said, not +unkindly: + +"We can ring for a messenger if you want to send word to your folks; +... it's against the rules to telephone." + +"I've notified them," Fred returned, crisply. It was curious to +discover that he had no doubts concerning Ginger's delivery of his +message. + +"Is there a chance for you to get bailed out to-night?" the same man +inquired. + +Fred hesitated. "There may be," he said, finally. + +They put him in a temporary cell with three others--two white men and +a Chinese, who had been arrested for smuggling opium. The floor was of +thick boards sloping toward the center, and in a corner was a +washbasin. There were no seats. One of the white men was pacing up and +down with the aimless ferocity of an animal freshly caged. At Fred's +entrance the younger and quieter of these two looked up and said, +eagerly: + +"Got a smoke?" + +Fred drew out a box of cigarettes and tossed it to him. The other +white man came forward; even the Chinese was moved to interest. + +Fred saw the box passed from one to the other. There did not seem to +be any color line drawn about this transient solace. Fred took a smoke +himself. + +"What are you up for?" the younger man inquired. + +Fred experienced a shock. "Oh ... you see ... I just got caught in a +jam. It will come out all right." + +It sounded ridiculous--this feeble attempt at pride, and Fred +regretted it, once it escaped him. But his questioner was not put out +of countenance. + +"Well, if you've got a pull, it's easy; otherwise--" He finished with +a shrug and went on smoking. + +Fred looked at him intently. He was a lad not much over twenty, with +thick black hair and very deep-blue eyes and an indefinable quality +which made his rather irregular features seem much more delicate than +they really were. + +"What's _your_ trouble?" Fred asked, suddenly. + +The boy grinned. "I rolled a guy for twenty dollars in Portsmouth +Square... He was drunk, at that," he finished, as if in justification. + +At this moment the door of the cell was opened. The three white men +started forward expectantly. But it was the Chinese who was wanted. A +group of his countrymen had come to bail him out. + +The man who had been silent suddenly spoke to the policeman as he was +closing the door again. + +"You might as well lock me up proper for the night," he flung out, +bitterly. "I guess they're not coming to get me now." + +The policeman led him away, in the wake of the disappearing Chinese. +The youth turned to Starratt with a chuckle: + +"The old boy's kinda peeved, ain't he? Well, he'll get over that after +a while... The first time they jugged me I thought--" + +"Then you've been up before?" + +"Before?... Say, do I look like a dead one? This isn't a bad habit +after you get used to it... So far I've only made the county jails. +Some day I suppose I'll graduate... But I'm pretty wise--vagrancy is +about all they've ever pinned on me." + +Fred looked at his new friend curiously. There didn't seem to be +anything particularly vicious about the youth. He merely had learned +how to get his hands on easy money and jails were an incident in his +career. Without being asked, he described his first tilt with the law. +He had come, a youth of seventeen, from a country town up North. He +had run away from home, to be exact; there was a stepmother or some +equally ancient and honorable excuse. He had arrived in San Francisco +in January without money or friends or any great moral equipment, and +after a week of purposeless bumming he had been picked up by a +policeman and charged with vagrancy. The obliging judge who heard his +case gave him twenty-four hours to leave town. He went, in company +with a professional tramp, upon the brake beams of a freight train +that pulled out for Stockton that very night. But at Stockton the +train was overhauled by policemen in wait for just these unwelcome +strangers from a rival town, and the two were told to go back promptly +where they came from. They got into San Francisco more dead than +alive, and then the inevitable happened. They were haled before the +selfsame judge who had given the youth such an amazing chance to get +started right. He treated them both to thirty days in the county jail, +and the youth emerged a wiser but by no means a sadder man. He had +learned, among other things, that if one were to be jailed one might +just as well be jailed for cause. The charge of vagrancy was very +inclusive, and a man could skirt very near the edge of felony and +still manage to achieve a nominal punishment. He told all this simply, +naturally, naively--as if he were entertaining an acquaintance with a +drawing-room anecdote. When he finished, Fred inquired: + +"And how about bail to-night?" + +The youth shrugged. "Well, I dunno. I sent word to a girl who--" + +At that moment the attendant appeared again. He had come after the +youth--evidently the girl had proved herself. + +"So long," the boy said to Fred, as he went through the door. "If +you've got a dame stuck on you there's always a chance." + +Fred went over and leaned against the washbasin. His companions had +been diverting. In their company he had ceased to think very +definitely about his own plight. Now he was alone. He wondered what +Helen would do... He put his hand to his cheek--it was still smarting +from the blow that had waked his primitive hatred... + +He was standing in this same position before the washbasin, smoking +furiously, when the attendant came for him. + +"It's past midnight," the man said. "I guess your folks ain't coming." + +Fred stirred. "No, I guess not," he echoed, with resignation. + +The officer took his arm. "Well, we'll have to get fixed up for the +night," he announced. + +Fred threw his cigarette butt on the floor and stepped on it. + + * * * * * + +The next morning at eleven o'clock Fred Starratt heard his name bawled +through the corridors and he was led out to the room where prisoners +were allowed to receive their lawyers or converse with relatives and +friends through the barred and screened opening. + +A man was exchanging tearful confidences with his wife and baby as he +clung to the bars. The woman was sending a brave smile across, but the +wire mesh between gave her face the same unreality that a gauze drop +in a play gives to the figures on the other side. A strange man was +ushered in. + +"Mr. Starratt?" he inquired. + +Fred inclined his head. + +"My name is Watson--from the firm of Kimball & Devine. We're attorneys +for Mr. Hilmer. He asked me to run in and see you this morning. Just +what _did_ happen?" + +Fred recited the events briefly. When he had finished, the attorney +said: + +"Everything depends on this man Brauer. I'll have to get in touch with +him to-day. Hilmer told me to use my own judgment about bail... I +guess it's all right." + +A hot flush overspread Fred's face, but it died quickly. He could +stand any insult now. All night he had been brooding on that slap upon +the cheek. A clenched fist had an element of fairness in it, but the +bare palm was always the mark of a petty tyrant. It was thus that a +woman struck ... or a piddling official ... or a mob bent on +humiliation. They smote Christ in the same way--_with their hands_. He +remembered the phrase perfectly and the circumstance that had +impressed it so indelibly on his mind. His people had seen to it that +he had attended Sabbath school, but he was well past ten before they +had taken him to church. And, out of the hazy impression of the first +sermon he had fidgeted through, he remembered the picture of Christ +which the good man in the pulpit had drawn, sitting in a mockery of +purple, receiving the open-palmed blows of cowards. In his extremity +the story recurred with sharp insistence and all night he had been +haunted by this thorn-crowned remembrance. + +Hilmer's messenger was waiting for him to speak. He gave a shrug. + +"It really doesn't matter," he said. + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Starratt," Watson broke in, reprovingly. "That +isn't any way to talk. You've got to keep your spirits up. Things +might be worse. It's lucky you've got a friend like Hilmer. He's a man +that can do things for you, if anyone can." + +Fred smiled wanly. "I don't suppose you saw my wife, by any chance," +he ventured. + +"No... Fact is, she's in bed... Hilmer said the news completely bowled +her over... That's another reason you've got to buck up--for _her_ +sake, you know!" + +It ended in Watson putting up the bail money and their departing in a +yellow taxicab for an obscure hotel in Ellis Street. + +"This is the best arrangement, under the circumstances," Watson +explained. "You'll want to be quiet and lie low." + +Fred assented indifferently. He was very tired and all he longed for +was a chance to sleep. + +In less than fifteen minutes after his release Fred Starratt found +himself alone in the narrow impersonal room where Hilmer's emissary +had installed him. He did not wait to undress--he threw himself upon +the bed and slept until midnight. + + * * * * * + +He awoke startled and unrefreshed. A newsboy just under his window was +calling the morning papers with monotonous stridency. Fred jumped to +his feet and peered out. People drifted by on the homeward stretch in +little pattering groups--actors, chorus girls, waiters, and melancholy +bartenders. The usual night wind had died ... it had grown warmer. He +turned toward his bed again. The walls of the room seemed suddenly to +contract. He had a desire to get out into the open... He freshened up +and felt better. + +He did not wait for the elevator, but walked down the dim stairway to +the narrow hotel lobby, flooded by a white, searching light. For a +moment he stood in curious confusion at the foot of the stairs that +had so suddenly spewed him from half-light to glare, his eyes blinking +aimlessly. At that moment he saw a familiar figure rising from one of +the morris chairs near the plate-glass window. He stared--it was the +private detective who had hounded him all day Saturday. Slowly he +retraced his steps and found his way back to his room again... No +doubt Brauer, fearful lest his victim would escape before he arranged +the proper warrants for arrest, had been responsible for this man's +presence in the first instance, but who was hiring him now?... +Hilmer?... Well, why not? Surely a man who risked bail money was +justified in seeing that the object of his charity kept faith... Fred +Starratt sat down and laughed unpleasantly. What a contempt everybody +must have for him! What a contempt he had for himself! He threw +himself sprawling his full length upon the rumpled bed. But this time +it was not to sleep. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and puffed +cigarette after cigarette until morning flooded the room... At eight +o'clock he phoned down to have his breakfast sent up. + + * * * * * + +Toward noon Watson came in. "I saw Brauer yesterday and again this +morning... What did you do to make him so sore?" + +Fred shrugged. "I guess I took a superior air... A man who plays up +his honesty is always nasty... I meant well--most fools do!" + +Watson stared uncomprehendingly. "The best thing I can get this man +Brauer to agree to is a compromise... He's eager for his pound of +flesh." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He wants to punish you ... even the score some way... After I saw him +yesterday I went out and talked to Hilmer... We outlined a plan that +Brauer is willing to accept. Hilmer has a pull, you know ... and if +the scheme goes through there'll be no trial, no notoriety, nothing +disagreeable... We'll make it plain to the authorities that you gave +out this check when you were drunk. Habitual intemperance ... that's +to be our plea... It means a few months for you at the state's Home +for Inebriates ... a bit of a rest, really... I'd say you were +extremely lucky." + +Fred was beyond so futile an emotion as anger. Somehow he was not even +surprised, but he had energy enough left for sarcasm. He looked +squarely at Watson as he said: + +"Why not tell the truth? If any judge is willing to convict me on my +intentions I'll go to jail gladly. It seems to me that it ought to be +easy enough to prove that I gave that check to Brauer with every +prospect in the world that I could cover it. He tricked me, really." + +"Yes, but how can you prove it?" + +"Why, there's my wife. She heard every bit of the--" + +"My dear man, you're not going to drag _her_ into this mess, I hope. +What we're trying to do is to hush this thing up, so that in due time +you can come back and take your place in society again without +scandal." + +"How are you going to stop Brauer's tongue?" + +"Oh, we'll see that he keeps his counsel... Hilmer will throw him a +sop... He's going in with this man Kendrick, you know." + +Fred rose and went over to the washbasin and drew himself a drink. +Finally he spoke. "It's a damned lie--the whole thing. That is enough +to queer it with me. I'm not a common drunkard, and you know it." + +"You were drunk when they arrested you." + +"Well ... yes." + +"And that's what gives us such a good chance... Now look here, +Starratt, you can take a tip from me or leave it, just as you see fit. +A trial for a charge such as you're up against is a damned nasty +business. You get publicity that you never live down. And just now +there's a big sentiment developing against letting people off easily +once the thing is made public. The judges are soaking people hard... +You might get off, and then again you _might not_. Would you like to +put your wife in the position of having a convict for a husband? ... +Think it over." + +Fred sat down. He was not beaten yet. After all, what did Helen think +about this arrangement? Had they spoken to her? Some of her methods in +the past had not been to his taste, but they were the best means to an +end that she knew. And she always had been loyal. Ah yes, in a scratch +women did rise to the occasion! For an instant he remembered the +parting comment of his cell companion of Saturday night: + +"If you've got a dame stuck on you there's always a chance." + +He turned to Watson with a smile of triumph. + +"I'll leave the thing to Mrs. Starratt," he said, confidently. "I +think I can depend upon her to stand by me, whatever happens..." + +Watson reached into his inner coat pocket. + +"I've a note from her here," he said, handing Starratt a square +envelope. + +Fred broke the seal and unfolded the contents deliberately. He read +very slowly... When he had finished he read it through again. He sat +for some moments on the edge of the bed, tapping his lips with a +tentative finger. Finally he rose. + +"Well, Mr. Watson," he said, bitterly, "I said I'd stand by Mrs. +Starratt's decision. And I'm a man of my word." + +Watson rose also. "You won't regret this, I'm sure," he ventured, +heartily. "Meanwhile I'll get busy pulling wires at once. It won't do +to let this thing get cold. I'll go right out and see Hilmer now... +Any message you'd like to give your wife?" + +Fred looked at the man before him searchingly. "No ... none!" + +Watson bowed himself out... Fred Starratt put both hands to his +temples. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The days that followed passed in a blur. Fred Starratt went through +the motions of living, but they were only motions. Between the +intervals of legal adjustments, court examinations, and formal red +tape he would lie upon his narrow bed at the hotel reading his wife's +message--that sharp-edged message which had shorn him of his +strength--as if to dull further his blunted sensibilities. In all this +time he saw only Watson. He did not ask for Hilmer or Helen. But one +day the attorney said to him: + +"Your wife is still ill, otherwise--" "Yes, yes ... of course," Fred +assented, dismissing the subject with an impatient shrug. + +Finally, on a certain afternoon at about two o'clock, Watson came in +quite unexpectedly. + +"I think by to-night everything will be settled. ... What can I do for +you? ... Perhaps you would like to go to your apartment and get some +things together... Or see a friend... Just say the word." Fred roused +himself. A fleeting rebellion flickered and died. He wanted nothing +... least of all to so much as see his former dwelling place. He made +only one request. + +"If you're passing that dance hall where they arrested me--you know, +near Jackson Street--drop in and ask for a girl called Ginger. I'd +like to see her." + +Watson smiled widely... + +The girl Ginger came that very afternoon. She was dressed very quietly +in black, with only a faint trace of make-up on her cheeks. Almost +anyone would have mistaken her for a drab little shopgirl. Fred felt +awkward in her presence. + +"I'm going away to-night--for some time," he said, when she had seated +herself. "And I wanted to thank you for your interest when--" + +She shook her head. "That wasn't anything," she answered. + +He wondered what next to say. It was she who spoke finally. + +"I suppose you got out of your mess all right," she half queried. + +He opened his cigarette case and offered her a smoke. She declined. + +"Well, not altogether... My friend Hilmer worked a compromise... I'm +going to a place to sober up." He laughed bitterly. + +She folded her hands. "One of those private sanitariums, I suppose, +where rich guys bluff it out until everything blows over." + +"No, you're wrong again... I'm going summering in a state hospital." + +Her hands, suddenly unclasped, lifted and fell in startled flight. "An +insane asylum?" she gasped. He leaned forward. "Why do you say that?" + +"Because it's the only place in this state where they send drunks... I +know plenty who've been through that game... You can't tell me +anything about that." + +He stared at her in silence and presently she said: + +"What are they doing to you, anyway? Railroading you? I don't believe +you know where you _are_ going." + +He shrugged wearily. "No; you're right. And I don't much care." + +"Why didn't you send for me?" she demanded. "That night when they got +you I told you I had a pull... I'm not a Hilmer, but I can work a few +people myself... I haven't always been a cheap skate. There was a time +when I had them fighting over me. And that wasn't so long ago, +either... I'm still young--younger than a lot that get by. But, +anyway, I've got a lot of old-memory stuff up my sleeve that can make +some people step about pretty lively... There's more than one man in +this town who would just as soon I kept my mouth shut... I could even +run Hilmer around the ring once or twice if I wanted to." + +He felt a bit tremulous, but he put a tight rein upon his emotions. + +"It's very good of you," he said, "but, really, I couldn't quite have +that, you know... I don't mean to be ungrateful or unkind, but there +are some things that--" + +She laughed. "Oh yes, I know... You feel that way now, of course... +You're a gentleman; I understand that... And I haven't run up against +many gentlemen in my day... Oh, there were a lot who had plenty of +money and they were polite enough when it didn't matter ... but ... +Well, I know the real thing when I see it... You're going to that hell +hole, too, just for that very reason... Because you haven't got the +face to be nasty..." + +He crumpled the unlighted cigarette in his hand and flung it from him. + +"What do you know about me?" he asked. + +"Women aren't fools!" she retorted. "And least of all women like me! +... I wish to God I'd known you sooner!" + +He watched the quivering revelations run in startled flight across her +face, hiding themselves as swiftly behind the dull shadows of +indifference. For a moment the room seemed flooded in a truant flash +of sunshine. She seemed at once incredibly old and as incredibly +touched with a vagrant youth. How eagerly she must have given herself! +How eagerly she could give herself again! + +He rose in his seat, confused. She seemed to have taken it for a sign +of dismissal, for she followed his example. + +"Maybe it isn't too late," she faltered. "Maybe I could work that pull +I've got ... if you want me to." + +He shook his head. "It's out of my hands," he answered. She moved to +the door, as if to place a proper distance between them. + +"What does your wife think about it?" + +He shrugged. + +"You won't like what I'm going to say," she flung out, defiantly. "But +that night when I saw your wife _I_ knew." + +"Knew what?" + +"That she wasn't playing fair..." Her face was lighted with a +primitive malevolence. "She isn't straight!" + +He tried to pull himself up in prideful refutation, but the effort +failed. He was turning away defeated when a knock sounded on the door. +Watson entered. Ginger drew herself flatly against the wall. The +attorney gave a significant glance in her direction as he said to +Starratt: + +"Your wife is waiting in the hall ... just around the corner. I +thought it best to ..." + +Ginger came forward quickly. "Good-by!" she said, hurriedly. + +He put out a hand to her. She moved a little nearer and, suddenly, +quite suddenly, she kissed him. He drew back a little, and presently +she was gone... + +He looked up to find Helen standing before him. She was a little pale +and her lips more scarlet than ever, and her thick, black eyebrows +sharply defined. He had never seen her look so disagreeably handsome. + +"That woman who just went out," she began, coolly, "she's the same one +who--" + +"Yes," he interrupted, crisply. + +"Who is she?" + +He looked at her steadily; she did not flinch. "A friend of mine." + +Her lip curled disdainfully. "Oh!" she said, and she sat down. + + * * * * * + +Toward evening they came for him, or rather Watson did, with a +taxicab. + +"Everything has gone nicely," Watson explained, pridefully. "You +certainly were lucky in having Hilmer for a friend ... no humiliation, +no publicity." + +Fred, standing before the bureau mirror, brushed his hair. "Where are +you taking me now?" he inquired. + +"To the detention hospital... You'll stay there a week or so for +observation... It's a mere form." + +"And from there?" + +"To the state hospital at Fairview." + +Fred Starratt flung down the brush. "Why don't you call it by its +right name? ... I'm told it's an insane asylum." + +Watson stared and then came forward with a little threatening gesture. +"You better not start any rough-house, Starratt--at the eleventh +hour!" he admonished, with a significant warmth. + +Fred turned slowly, breaking into a laugh. "Rough-house?" he echoed. +"Don't be afraid. ... I've got to the curious stage now. I want to see +the whole picture." He reached for his hat. "I'm ready ... let's go." + +A half hour later Fred Starratt was booked at the detention hospital. +They took away his clothes and gave him a towel and a nightgown and +led him to a bathroom... Presently he was shown to his cell-like room. +Overhead the fading day filtered in ghostly fashion through a +skylight; an iron bed stood against the wall. There was not another +stick of furniture in sight. + +He crawled into his bed and the attendant left him, switching on an +electric light from the outside. A nurse with supper followed +shortly--a bowl of thin soup and two slices of dry bread. Fred +Starratt lifted the bowl to his lips and drank a few mouthfuls. The +stuff was without flavor, but it quenched his burning thirst... After +a while he broke the bread into small bits--not only because he was +hungry, but because he was determined to eat this bitter meal to the +last crumb. When he had finished he felt mysteriously sealed to +indifference. + +The nurse came in for the tray and he asked her to switch off the +light. He lay for hours, open-eyed, in the gloom, while wraithlike +memories materialized and vanished as mysteriously. Somehow the +incidents of his life nearest in point of time seemed the remotest. +Only his youth lay within easy reach, and his childhood nearest of +all. He was traveling back ... back ... perhaps in the end + + oblivion would wrap him in its healing mantle and he would + wait to be made perfect and whole again in the flaming + crucible of a new birth... Gradually the mists of + remembrance faded, lost their outline ... became confused, + and he slept. + +He awoke with a shiver. A piercing scream was curdling the silence. +From the other side of the thin partition came shrieks, curses, mad +laughter. He heard the heavy tramp of attendants in the hallway ... +doors quickly opened and slammed shut. ... There followed the sounds +of scuffling, the reeling impact of several bodies against the wall +... then blows of shuddering softness, one last shriek ... dead +silence! + +He sat up in bed--alive and quivering. Was this the rebirth that the +swooning hours had held in store for him? ... Quickly life came +flooding back. Indifference fell from him. In one blinding flash his +new condition was revealed. His life had been a futile compromise. He +had sowed passivity and he had reaped a barren harvest of negative +virtues. He would compromise again, and he would be passive again, and +he would bow his neck to authority ... but from this moment on he +would wither the cold fruits of such enforced planting in a steadily +rising flame of understanding. He knew now the meaning of the word +"revelation." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +They kept Fred Starratt in bed for two weeks, and one morning when the +sun was flooding through the skylight with soul-warming radiance they +brought him his clothes and he knew that the prologue to the drama of +his humiliation was over. He crawled to his feet and looked down upon +his body wasted by days of enforced idleness and fasting. He dropped +back upon the bed, exhausted. The sun, striking him squarely, +gradually flamed him with feeble energy. He straightened himself and +dressed slowly. + +When he had finished the sun still poured its golden shower into the +room. He rose to his feet and lifted his chilled hands high to receive +its blessing. He felt the blood tingle through his transparent +fingers. + +In the next room he heard the tramping of feet and a feeble curse or +two. He dropped his hands and sat down again. The nurse came in with +his breakfast. + +"The man next door?" he asked. "Is he leaving to-day, too?" + +"Yes." + +"Where does he go?" + +"To Fairview." + +A memory of that first night with its piercing terror sent a shiver +through him. + +"They brought him in the same day I came," he ventured, half musingly. +"At the beginning he made a lot of noise, but lately..." + +She set the tray down upon the bed. "They had to put him in a +strait-jacket," she said, significantly. "He's quite hopeless. He +tried to kill his wife and his child ... and he set fire to the home. +He's an Italian." + +"Yes ... so I was told." + +The nurse departed and he drank the cup of muddy coffee on the tray. +He laid the cup down and sat staring at the square cut in the center +of the thick oak door leading into the corridor. Presently he heard +the swish of a woman's skirt passing the opening, followed by the +pattering footsteps of childhood. There came the sound of soft weeping +... the swishing skirt passed again, and the pattering footsteps died +away. The nurse returned. + +"The Italian's wife and child have just been here," she said. "They +let the woman look for the last time at her husband through the hole +in the door." + +Fred put his head between his hands. "He tried to murder her and yet +she came to see him," he muttered, almost inaudibly. "I dare say he +abused her in his day, too." + +The woman gave him a sharp glance. "You're married, aren't you?" + +He looked up suddenly, reading the inference in her question. "Yes ... +but my wife won't come..." + +The nurse left the room and he put his face in his hands again. The +sun was traveling swiftly. He shifted his position so that he could +get the full benefit of its warmth. He thought that he had banished +the memory of Helen Starratt forever, but he found his mind +re-creating that final scene with her in all its relentless +bitterness... She had come that day to salve her conscience ... to pay +her tithe to form and respectability ... perhaps moved to fleeting +pity. He had seen through every word, every gesture, every glance. Her +transparency was loathsome. Why did he read her so perfectly now? Was +it because she felt herself too secure for further veilings, or had +his eyes been suddenly opened? + +She was not flaming nor reckless nor consumed utterly; instead, there +was a complacent coolness about her, as if passion had drawn every +warmth within her for its own consummation. She had still her +instincts in the leash of calculation, going through the motions of +conventionality. The lifted eyebrows and curling lip which she had +directed at Ginger's departing figure were not inconsistent. +Dissimulation was such an art with her that it was unconscious. + +He had asked her only one question: + +"And how is Mrs. Hilmer?" + +Even now he shuddered at the completeness with which her words +betrayed her. + +"There is no change ... we are simply waiting." + +He had turned away from this crowning disclosure. _Waiting_? No wonder +she could veil her desire in such disarming patience! He had intended +asking her plans. Now it was unnecessary. And he had thought at once +of that last night when he had called at Hilmer's, remembering the +sprawling magazine on the floor, the bowl of wanton flowers upon the +mantelshelf, the debonairly flung mandarin skirt clinging to the +piano--these had been the first marks of conquest. + +As she was leaving she had said, "I shall see you again, of course." + +In spite of its inconsistency he had sensed a certain habitual +tenderness in her voice, as if custom were demanding its due. And, for +a moment, the old bond between them touched him with its false warmth. +But a swift revulsion swept him. + +"Why bother?" he had thrown back at her. + +"You mean you don't want me to come?" + +"Yes, just that!" + +He had taken her breath away, perhaps even wounded her, momentarily, +but she had recovered herself quickly. Her smile had been full of the +smug satisfaction of one who has washed his hands in public +self-justification. + +She had left soon after that passage at arms, achieving the grace to +dispense with the empty formality of either a kiss or a farewell +embrace... He remembered how he had flung up the window as if to clear +the room of her poisonous presence... + +To-day, sitting upon his narrow bed, instinctively following the patch +of yellow sunlight as it gilded the gloom, he felt that the maniac +next door had the better part. Of what use was reason when it ceased +to function except in terms of withering unbelief? + +He sat motionless for hours, waiting patiently for them to come and +release him to sharper sorrows. He had a passive eagerness to taste +bitterness to the lees... When he heard the door open finally he did +not rise. He kept his face buried. A light footstep came nearer and he +was conscious of the pressure of icy fingers upon his hands. He looked +up. Ginger stood before him. + +"I brought you some smokes," she said, simply, "but they wouldn't let +me bring them in." + +He tried to speak, but suddenly great sobs shook him. + +She put her fingers in his hair, drawing him to his feet, and +presently he felt her own tears splashing his cheek. + +He was smiling when they finally came for him. But he felt weaker than +ever, and as they walked out into the glare of the street he was glad +to lean upon Ginger's arm. The sheriff's van was drawn up to the curb. +Two deputies helped him in. He turned for a last look at Ginger. Her +pale little face was twisted, but she waved a gay farewell. In a far +corner of the lumbering machine Fred could see two catlike eyes +glimmering. Slowly his gaze penetrated the gloom, and the figure of a +battered man shaped itself, his two hands strapped to his sides. The +deputies got in, the door was shut sharply, and the van shot forward. + +In less than fifteen minutes they had reached the ferry. + +The train was late, and it was long after nine o'clock when it pulled +into the Fairview station. The day had been hot, and the breath of +evening was bringing out grateful and cooling odors from the sunburnt +stubble of the hillside as Fred Starratt and his keeper stepped upon +the station platform. The insane Italian followed between two guards. +An automobile swung toward them. They got in and rode through the +thickening gloom for about three miles... Presently one of the +deputies leaned toward Fred, pointing a finger in the direction of a +cluster of lights, as he said: + +"There's your future home, old man. Keep a stiff upper lip. You'll +need all your grit." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Fred Starratt rested surprisingly well that first night. But two weeks +in the detention hospital had taken the sting out of institutional +preliminaries. The officials at Fairview put him through precisely the +same paces, except upon a somewhat larger scale. There was the +selfsame questioning, the same yielding up of personal effects, the +same inevitable bath. And almost the same solitary room, except that +this one peered out upon the free world through a heavily barred +window instead of through a skylight, and boasted a kitchen chair. He +was to be alone then!... He thanked God for this solitude and slept. + +He awoke at six o'clock to the clipped shriek of a whistle. Shortly +after, a key turned in his door. There followed the sound of scores of +bare feet pattering up and down the hall. Was it imagination or did +these muffled footfalls have an inhuman softness?... Suddenly his door +flew open. He shrank beneath the bedclothes, peering out with one +unscreened eye. + +A knot of gesticulating and innocent madmen were gazing at him with +all the simplicity of children. After a few moments, their curiosity +satisfied, they pattered on their ghostly way again. + +This, he afterward learned, was the daily morning inspection of +newcomers. + +Presently the whistle blew again and a bell sounded through the +corridors. A rush of answering feet swept past; a great silence fell. + +A half hour later a monstrous man with glittering eyes and clawlike +fingers came in, carrying breakfast--a large dishpan filled with a +slimy mush, two slices of dry bread, and a mound of greasy hash. Fred +turned away with a movement of supreme disgust. The gigantic attendant +laughed. + +There came a call of, "All outside!" echoing through the halls; a rush +of feet again, a hushed succeeding silence. The half-mad ogre went to +the window and slyly beckoned Fred to follow. He crawled out of bed +and took his place before the iron bars. The man pointed a skinny +finger; Fred's gaze followed. He found himself looking down upon a +stone-paved yard filled with loathsome human wreckage--gibbering +cripples, drooling monsters, vacant-eyed corpses with only the motions +of life. Some had their hands strapped to their sides, others were +almost naked. They sang, shouted, and laughed, prayed or were silent, +according to their mental infirmities. It was an inferno all the more +horrible because of its reality, a relentless nightmare from which +there was no awakening. + +Fred heard the man at his side chuckling ferociously. + +His tormentor was laughing with insane cruelty. "The bull pen! Ha, ha, +ha!" + +Fred made his way back to his bed. Midway he stopped. + +"Does everybody ..." he began to stammer--"does everybody ... or only +those who ..." + +He broke off in despair. What could this mad giant tell him? But +almost before the thought had escaped him his companion read his +thought with uncanny precision. + +"You think I don't know!" the man said, tapping his head +significantly. "But everybody ... they all ask me the same question. +Yes ... you'll take your turn, my friend. Don't be afraid. They'll +give you the air in the bull pen, all right! Ha, ha, ha!" And with +that he picked up the dishpan of untasted breakfast and hurried from +the room. + +Fred Starratt sank down upon the bed. His temples were throbbing and +his body wet with an icy sweat. + + * * * * * + +He was roused by a vigorous but not ungentle tap upon the shoulder. He +stumbled to his feet, shaking himself into a semblance of courage. But +instead of the malevolent giant of the breakfast hour, a genial man of +imposing bulk stood before him. "My name is Harrison," his visitor +began, kindly; "I'm an assistant to the superintendent... Perhaps +you'd like to tell me something about yourself?" + +Fred drew back a trifle. "Must I?..." + +Harrison smiled as he seated himself in the chair. + +"No ... but they usually do ... after the first night... It helps, +sometimes, to talk." + +"I am afraid there's nothing to tell... I'm here, and I'll make the +best of it..." + +Fred wiped the clammy sweat from his forehead with a gesture of +despair. + +Harrison leaned forward. "Don't you feel well?" he inquired. + +"It's nothing... I looked out into the yard this morning... I dare say +one gets used to it--but for the moment... You have other yards, I +suppose... That is, I sha'n't have to take the air there ... shall I +... in the bull pen?" + +"It's usual ... for the first day or two. But perhaps in your case--" +Harrison broke off. "However, I can't promise anything... If you'll +come to the office I'll give you back your clothes." + +They went into the office together and Fred received his clothing duly +marked with his name and ward. But his shoes were withheld and in +their place he was given a pair of mismated slippers which proved too +large. Harrison handed him two rag strips with which he tied them on. +Looking down at the shapeless, flapping footgear, Fred Starratt felt +his humiliation to be complete. He walked slowly back to his room. + +The noise from the bull pen was deafening. He went to the window and +steeled himself against the sight below... At first he shuddered, but +gradually his hands became clenched, in answer to a rising +determination. Why should he flinch from anything God himself could +look upon?... He was still standing by the window when the gong for +the midday meal sounded. The bull pen had long since been deserted +and, with the foreground swept clean of its human excrescence, his +purposeless gaze had wandered instinctively toward the promise of the +forest-green hills in the distance. + +He heard the familiar rush of feet toward the dining room and he was +vaguely conscious that some one had halted before his door. He turned +about. A young man, not over twenty-five, with a delicately chiseled +face, was stepping into the room. As he drew closer Fred received the +wistful impression of changing-blue eyes and a skin clear to the point +of transparency. Fred met his visitor halfway. + +"You came last night, didn't you?" the youth began, offering a shy +hand. "I saw you this morning. I was in the crowd that looked you over +just before breakfast... What are you here for?" + +Fred lifted his hand and let it fall again. "I made a mess of +things... And you?" + +"Booze," the other replied, laconically. "I've been in three times... +Let's go down to lunch." He slipped a friendly arm into Fred's and +together they walked with the rushing throng into the dining room. + +It was a small room, everything considered, with tables built around +the four walls and one large table in the center that seated about +twenty-five people. Starratt and his new-found friend discovered two +vacant seats upon the rude bench in front of the center table and sat +down. They were each given a plate upon which was a potato and a small +piece of cold beef and the inevitable hunk of dry bread. A large +pitcher of tea stood within reach. There was neither milk nor sugar +nor butter in evidence. A tablespoon and a tin cup were next handed +them. Fred felt a sudden nausea. He closed his eyes for a moment, and +when he looked up his plate had been swept clean of food. + +"You've got to watch sharp," the youth was saying. "They steal +everything in sight if you let them... Here, have some of mine." + +Fred made a gesture of refusal. "It doesn't matter," he explained. +"I'm not hungry." + +"You'd better eat something... Have some hot tea!" + +It was a black, hair-raising brew, but Fred managed to force down a +draught of it. About him on all sides men were tearing their meat with +clawlike hands, digging their fangs into it in wolfish ferocity... A +dishpan of rice was circulated. Fred took a few spoonfuls. Within +fifteen minutes the meal was over and the dishpan, emptied of its +rice, was passed again. Fred saw his companions flinging their spoons +into it. He did likewise. + +The youth arose. "Let's get out of this and have a smoke... I've got +the makings." + +A great surge of relief swept over Fred. A smoke! Somehow, he had +forgotten that such a solace existed in this new world of terror and +pain. + +It appeared that the only place indoors where smoking was permitted +was the lavatory, but when they reached the corridor they found a line +forming ready to march out to take the air. They decided to wait and +have their smoke in the open. Fred and his companion exchanged names. +The youth was Felix Monet. + +"I'm not sure whether you go out with us," Monet admitted, as they +swung into place. "This crowd is bound for the front parade ground. +It's not usual for newcomers to have that privilege." + +Fred made no reply. The line of men shuffled forward. + +"We go downstairs first for our shoes," the youth finished. + +Presently they found themselves upon the ground floor, in a small room +where an attendant distributed shoes and hats. It appeared that Fred's +shoes were there, duly labeled. The man in charge made no objection to +yielding them up. + +"You must have a pull," Monet remarked, as Fred sat down upon a stool +to draw on his shoes. + +Fred shook his head in silence. Evidently the assistant superintendent +had said a word for him. ... He was not to be put to the torture of +the bull pen, then! + +Outside, the air was warm and the sunlight dazzling. Fred felt a surge +of red-blooded life sweep him as his quivering nostrils drank in the +pungent odors from the midsummer foliage. Waves of heat floated +wraithlike from the yellow stubble, bathing the distant hills in an +arid-blue haze. At convenient intervals clumps of dark-green trees +threw contrasting patches of shade upon the tawny, sun-bleached sod. +But Fred ignored their cool invitation. He always had hated hot +weather with all his coast-bred soul, but to-day a hunger for warmth +possessed him completely. + +Monet and he took a broad path which circled for about a quarter of a +mile about the grounds. As they progressed, several joined them. Fred +was introduced to each in turn, but he responded listlessly. Almost at +once the newcomers hurled questions at him... Why was he there? ... +How long was he in for? ... What did he think were the chances of +escape? Inevitably, every conversation turned upon this last absorbing +topic. These men seemed eager for confidences, they wanted to share +their experiences, their grievances, their hopes. But Fred Starratt +recoiled. He had not yet reached the stage when a thin trickle of +words fell gratefully upon his ears. He had no desire to either hear +or speak. All he craved was the healing silence of open spaces. But he +was soon to learn that this new life held no such soul-cleansing +solace. Gradually he fell a bit apart from his chattering comrades. + +They passed an ill-kept croquet ground and some patches of garden +where those who were so disposed could raise vegetables or flowers. +There was something pathetic about the figures bending with childlike +faith over their labor of love--attempting to make nature smile upon +them. Without the vision of the bull pen Fred Starratt would have +found much that afternoon that was revolting. But one glimpse into the +horrible inferno of the morning had made him less sensitive to milder +impressions. + +After a while Monet detached himself from the rest of the walking +throng and fell back with Starratt. He seemed to have an instinctive +gift for sensing moods, and Fred was grateful for his silence. + +They were passing by a two-story concrete building in the Colonial +style when Monet touched Fred's arm. + +"That's the famous Ward Six," Monet explained, softly. "You'll get +there finally if you work it right... It's not heaven ... but +alongside the other wards it comes pretty near being." + +They turned about shortly after this and began to retrace their steps. +Presently a man came in sight, pulling a cardboard box mounted upon +four spools. + +"An inventor," Monet said, as Fred threw out a questioning glance. "He +has an idea that he's perfected a wonderful automobile... You'll get +used to them after a while." + +A little farther on they met a haughty-looking Japanese coming toward +them. Monet plucked at Fred's sleeve. "Better step to one side," he +cautioned; "that fellow thinks he is the Emperor of Japan!" + +Fred did as he was bidden and the Japanese swept past gloomily. + +"Well, at least he's happy, in his own way!" Monet commented, with a +tinge of irony. + +Soon after that another man passed, weeping bitterly. + +"They call him the Weeping Willow," Monet explained. "He weeps because +he can find no one who will kill him." + +Fred shuddered. + +By this time they had reached their starting point. Fred felt suddenly +tired. "Let's rest a bit under the trees," he proposed. + +Monet assented, and the two threw themselves into the first shade. +Fred closed his eyes. He had a sense that he was dreaming--that all +the scenes that he had witnessed these many days were unreal. +Presently he would wake up to the old familiar ring of his alarm +clock, and gradually all the outlines of his bedroom would shape +themselves to his recovered senses... There would stand Helen by her +dressing table, stooping down to the mirror's level as she popped her +thick braids under her pink boudoir cap... In a few minutes the first +whiffs of coffee would come floating in from the kitchenette. Then he +would crawl slowly out from the warm bedclothes and stretch himself +comfortably and give a sudden dash for the bathroom and his cold +plunge. There would follow breakfast and the walk over the hill down +to the office of Ford, Wetherbee & Co. in a mist-golden morning. And +he would hear again the exchange of greetings, and find himself +replying to the inevitable question: + +"Well, what's new?" + +With the equally inevitable answer: + +"Not a thing in the world!" + +Some one was shaking him. He gave a quick gasp that ended in a groan +as he opened his eyes. Monet was bending over him. + +"You've been asleep," his companion said. "Come, it's time to go in... +The bell for supper has rung... And you were dreaming, too ... I knew +that because you smiled!" + +Fred Starratt grasped Monet's hand fervently. + +"It was good of you to keep watch," he murmured. + +Monet answered with a warm pressure. And at that moment something deep +and indefinable passed between them ... a silent covenant too precious +for words. + +Fred Starratt rose to his feet. + +"Let us go in!" he said. + + * * * * * + +At supper Fred Starratt nibbled at some dry bread and drank another +strong draught of tea. But he had to force himself to even this scant +compromise with expediency. There followed smoking in the lavatory and +at seven o'clock the call to turn in. Fred scurried confidently to his +cell-like room ... he was quite ready for solitude. + +An attendant was moving about. "You sleep in the first dormitory +to-night," he explained to Fred. "It's at the end of the hall." + +Fred turned away in fresh despair. + +Before the door of the first dormitory a number of men were +undressing. Monet was in the group and a newspaper man named Clancy +that Fred had met that afternoon. Fred stood a moment in indecision. + +"You'll have to strip out here," Monet said, in a matter-of-fact tone. +"Just leave your clothes in a pile close against the wall." + +Fred obeyed. The rest of the company regarded him with sinister +curiosity. Except for Monet and Clancy all seemed obviously insane. +One by one they filed into the room. Fred followed. Twelve spotlessly +clean cots gleamed in the twilight. + +The twelve men crawled into bed; the door was shut with a bang. Fred +heard a key turn... They were locked in! + +The ghostly day faded and night settled in. Fitful snorings and groans +and incoherent mutterings broke the stillness. At intervals a man near +the door would jump to his feet, proclaiming the end of the world. +Sometimes his paroxysm was brief, but again he would keep up his +leaping and solemn chanting until he fell to the floor in sheer +exhaustion... Gradually even he became quiet, and nothing was audible +except heavy breathing and the sound of the watchman in the corridor +as he passed by regularly, flashing his light into the room through +the slits in the door. + +Fred Starratt did not close his eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The first week passed in an inferno of idleness. Fred Starratt grew to +envy even the wretches who were permitted to carry swill to the pigs. +There once had been a time in his life when ambition had pricked him +with a desire for affluent ease... He had been grounded in the +religious conviction that work had been wished upon a defenseless +humanity as a curse. He still remembered his Sabbath-school stories, +particularly the scornful text with which the Lord had banished those +two erring souls from Eden. Henceforth they were to work! To earn +their bread by the sweat of their brows! He had a feeling now that +either God had been tricked into granting a boon or else the scowl +which had accompanied the tirade had been the scowl that a genial +Father threw at his children merely for the sake of seeming +impressive. At heart the good Lord must have had only admiration for +these two souls who refused to be beguiled by all the slothful ease of +Eden, preferring to take their chances in a world of their own +making... And he began to question, too, either the beauty or +contentment of the heaven which offered the vacuous delights of +idleness. It seemed, perhaps, that the theologians had mixed their +revelations, and that the paradise they offered so glibly was really a +sinister hell in disguise. + +After the first day the sights which had sent shudders through him +gradually began to assume the inevitability of custom. Even the vision +of the Weeping Willow, sorrowing at death withheld, failed to shake +him. The third night he slept undisturbed in the lap of frenzy and +madness. There was something at once pathetic and sublime in his +adaptability to the broken suits of fortune. He was learning what +every man learns sooner or later--to play the hand that is dealt, even +in the face of a losing game. + +Deep within him he found two opposing currents struggling for +mastery--one an overwhelming tide of disillusionment, the other a +faith in things hitherto withheld. Against the uncloaked figures of +Helen Starratt and Hilmer loomed Ginger and Monet. Did life always +yield compensations, if one had the wit to discern them? In the still +watches of the night, when some fleeting sound had waked him, he used +to think of Ginger as he had thought when a child of some intangible +and remote vision that he could sense, but not define. Would he ever +see her again? Suddenly, one night, he realized that he did not even +know her name... And Monet, who slept so quietly upon the cot next to +him--what would he have done without his companionship? He used to +raise himself on his elbow at times and look in the ghostly light of +morning at Monet's face, white and immobile, the thin and shapely lips +parted ever so slightly, and marvel at the bland and childlike faith +that was the basis of this almost breathless and inaudible sleep. Fred +had made friendships in his life, warm, hand-clasping, +shoulder-thumping friendships, but they had been of gradual unfolding. +Never before had anyone walked full-grown into his affections. + +On the third afternoon, sitting in the thick shade of a gracious tree, +Monet had told Fred something of his story. He was of mixed +breed--French and Italian, with a bit of Irish that had made him +blue-eyed, and traces of English and some Dutch. A brood of races that +were forever at war within him. And he had been a musician in the +bargain, and this in the face of an implacable father who dealt in +hides and tallow. There had been all the weakness and flaming and +_naivete_ of a potential artist ground under the heel of a relentless +sire. His mother was long since dead. The father had attempted to +force the stream of desire from music to business. He had succeeded, +after a fashion, but the youth had learned to escape from the dull +pain of his slavery into a rosy and wine-red Eden. ... Three times he +had been sent to Fairview "to kick the nonsense out of him!" to use +his father's words. He was not embittered nor overwhelmed, but he was +passive, stubbornly passive, as if he had all a lifetime to cross +words with Monet, senior. It was inevitable that he would win in the +end. He was a child ... he always would be one ... and childhood might +be cowed, but it was never really conquered. He was gentle, too, like +a child, and sensitive. Yet the horrors which surrounded him seemed to +leave him untroubled. It could not be that he was insensible to +ugliness, but he rose above it on the wings of some inner beauty... +Once Fred Starratt would have felt some of the father's scorn for +Felix Monet--the patronizing scorn most men bring to an estimate of +the incomprehensible. What could one expect of a fiddler? Yes, he +would have felt something worse than scorn--he would have been moved +to tolerance. + +The only other man in Ward 1 who was sane was Clancy, the newspaper +reporter. But in the afternoons the knot of rational inmates from the +famous Ward 6 herded together and exchanged griefs. Fred Starratt sat +and listened, but he felt apart. Somehow, most of the stories did not +ring quite true. He never had realized before how eager human beings +were to deny all blame. To hear them one would fancy that the busy +world had paused merely to single them out as targets for misfortune. +And the more he listened to their doleful whines the more he turned +the searching light of inquiry upon his own case. In the end, there +was something beyond reserve and arrogance in the reply he would make +to their direct inquiries: + +"What brought me here? ... Myself!" + +But his attitude singled him out for distrust. He was incomprehensible +to these burden shifters, these men who had been trained to cast their +load upon the nearest object and, failing everything else, upon the +Lord... They were all either drug users or victims of drink. And, to a +man, they were furiously in favor of prohibition with all the strength +of their weak, dog-in-the-manger souls. Like every human being, they +hated what they abused. They wanted to play the game of life with +failure eliminated, and the god that they fashioned was a venerable +old man who had the skill to worst them, but who genially let them +walk away with victory. + +As Fred Starratt listened day after day to their chatter he withdrew +more and more from any mental contact with them. And yet there were +times when he felt a longing to pour out his grief into the ears of +understanding... He knew that Monet was waiting for his story, but +pride still held him in its grip... After all, there was a ridiculous +side to his plight. When a man permitted himself to be blindfolded he +could not quarrel at being pushed and shoved and buffeted... How +absurd he must have seemed to Watson on that day when he had announced +so dramatically: + +"I said I'd stand by Mrs. Starratt's decision. And I'm a man of my +word!" + +How much a man would endure simply for the sake of making a fine +flourish! He had thought himself heroic at that moment, poor, empty +fool that he was, when he really had been the victim of cowardice. A +brave man would have cried: + +"I said I'd stand by Mrs. Starratt's decision, but I'm not quite an +idiot!" + +One other topic flamed these poor souls, seeking to kindle a warmth of +sympathy for their failures. When the lamentations ceased, they talked +of flight. Fred Starratt sat mentally apart and listened. Everybody +had a plan. They discussed prospects, previous attempts, chances for +failure. Fred learned, among other things, that the search for escaped +nationals did not extend much beyond the environs of Fairview. If a +man from Ward 6 made a good get-away he held his freedom, unless his +kinsfolk constituted themselves a pack of moral bloodhounds. He +realized now that there was nothing as relentless as family pride. It +was not so much the alcoholic excess that was resented, but the fact +that it led to unkept linen and dirty finger nails and, by the same +token, to neighborhood scorn. Concern for a man's soul did not send +him to Fairview... But was anybody really concerned for a man's soul? +... Why should they be? ... He ended by quarreling only with the +pretense. + +Escape! Escape! To get back to the world that they were forever +reviling! Like men in the grip of some wanton mistress who could bring +them neither happiness nor heroics, either in her company or away from +her. Take Fordham, for instance, a lean, purple-faced clerk, who had +been sent up for the third time by his wife after two sensational +escapes. He hadn't disturbed her, looked her up, gone near her, in +fact. But he had laid up alongside an amber-filled bottle in a moldy +wine shop somewhere near the Barbary coast. Yes, he had achieved it +even in the face of prohibition. And she had got wind of it. Folks had +seen him, red-eyed and greasy-coated and bilious-hued, emerging from +his haunt in some harsh noon that set him blinking, like a startled +owl. Well, she couldn't quite have that, you know! She couldn't have +her husband making a spectacle of himself, sinking lower and lower in +the hell of his own choosing. No! Far better to pick out a hell for +him ... a hell removed discreetly from the gaze of the scornful. ... +And there was Wainright, who, like Monet, had a father. He had married +a Runway Girl of the Bearcat Follies ... the sort that patters down +from the stage to imprint carmine kisses and embarrassment upon the +shining pate of the first old rounder that has an aisle seat. Well, +father could not have that, either. He was impatient with the whole +performance. Indeed, a less impatient man would have waited and +watched Wainright, junior, wind himself in the net which his own hands +had set. Instead, he went to the trouble of digging a pit for his son +which hastened the inevitable, but did not cure the folly... Wainright +had escaped, too, quite casually, one fine spring day when he had been +sent out to the barn to help milk the cows. The Runway Girl, in need +of publicity, had telegraphed the details to her press agent, +following receipt of her husband's letter telling of his exploit. A +Runway Girl whose husband-lover broke jail, so to speak, for her, had +professional assets that could not be gainsaid. + +And so the story was flashed on the front page of every newspaper in +the country, with the result that father dug another pit. + +And so tale succeeded tale. Fred grew to accept most of them with +large dashes of salt. Not that he doubted the broader strokes with +which the effects were achieved, but he mistrusted that many of the +finer shadings had been discreetly painted out. He was learning that +there was nothing so essentially untruthful as a studied veracity... +Had not he tricked himself with just such carefully heightened +details? What he had mistaken for a background of solid truth had +proved nothing but pasteboard scenery flooded with a semblance of +reality achieved by skillful manipulation of spotlights. He had been +satisfied with the illusion because he had wished for nothing better. +And at this moment he was more desolate than any in this sad company, +because he seemed the only one who had lost the art of escaping into a +world of lies. He had no more spotlights to manipulate. He sat in a +gloomy playhouse and he heard only confused voices coming from the +stage. He was not even sorry for himself. Whether he was sorry for +others he could not yet determine. + +One afternoon at the close of the first week, as he was walking back +to Ward 1 with Monet, following one of these inevitable experience +meetings, he turned to the youth and said: + +"You have been here three times now. Have _you_ never thought of +escape?" + +Monet shrugged. "Yes ... in a way. But I'm no great hand at doing +things alone." + +They walked on in silence. Finally Fred spoke. + +"Suppose you and I try it sometime? ... It will give us something to +think about... But we'll go slow. It will just be a game, you +understand." + +Monet's eyes lit up and his breath came quickly between his parted +lips. "You're splendid to me!" he cried. "But the others--you seem to +hate them. Why?" + +Fred kicked a fallen branch out of his path. "They whine too much!" he +muttered. + +The boy was right, he _did_ hate them! + +At the office he found that a package had come for him in the mail, +and a letter. Both had been opened by the authorities. He read the +letter first. It was from Helen. She had heard that cigarettes were a +great solace to men in his situation, and so she had sent him a large +carton of them. She expressed the hope that everything was going well, +and she filled the rest of her letter with gossip of the Hilmers. Mrs. +Hilmer was a little better and she was wheeling her out on fine days +just in front of the house. The nurse had gone and she was doing +everything. But these people had been so good to her! What else was +there left to do? She ended with a restrained dignity. She offered +neither sympathy nor reproaches. Fred had to concede that it was a +master stroke of implied martyrdom. He flung the letter into the +nearest wastebasket. He had an impulse to do the same thing with the +cigarettes, but the thought of Monet's pleasure in them restrained +him. He took the package to the dormitory. Monet had gone up before +him. + +Fred threw his burden on Monet's bed. The youth gave a low whistle of +delight. + +"Pall Malls!" he cried, incredulously. "Where did you get them?" + +"They came from my wife." + +"Oh! ... Don't you want any of them?" + +"No." + +At the smoking hour Fred saw Monet take out his pitiful little bag of +cheap tobacco and roll the usual cigarette. + +"What? ... Aren't you smoking Pall Malls?" he asked, with a shade of +banter in his voice. + +Monet shook his head. "I don't want them, either... What shall we do? +Give them to the others?" + +Fred stared through a sudden mist. "Why--yes. Just whatever you like." + +That night, when everyone else was asleep, Fred Starratt told Felix +Monet his story... + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +One morning, at the beginning of the second week of Fred Starratt's +stay at Fairview, as he and Monet were swinging back to lunch after a +brisk walk, they received orders to fall in line with the inmates of +Ward 6. + +"Things will be better now," Monet said, with his usual air of quiet +reassurance. + +And so it proved. + +Fred's first introduction was to the dining room. It was not an +extraordinary place, and yet Fred gave a little gasp as he entered it +and stood staring almost foolishly at the tables set with clean linen. +Three of its sides were made up almost entirely of windows, before +which the shades were drawn to shut out the hot noonday sun, and its +floor of polished hardwood glistened even in the subdued light. They +sat down in the first seats that came to hand, and it was not until +some cold meat was passed that Fred discovered a knife and fork at his +place. The meat was neither choice nor dainty, but somehow just the +fact of this knife and fork gave it extraordinary zest. Later on, +small pats of butter were circulated and a spoonful of sugar apiece +for the tea. And once again he listened to people talk while they ate +... heard a subdued, but sane, laugh or two... There was a smoking +room also, not overlarge, but adequate. + +The inmates of Ward 6, from whom Fred had stood aloof, welcomed him +warmly. He was at a loss to know why until Monet explained. + +"It's the cigarettes." + +"Ah, then you distributed them here? I thought they went to the other +poor devils." + +The youth turned a wistful glance toward him. "I knew you'd get over +to this place finally ... and I wanted them to like you..." + +Fred fell silent over the implied rebuke. + +The dormitories were large and light and airy and scrupulously clean, +but the usual institutional chill pervaded everything... Yet, for a +season, Fred Starratt found all discrimination smothered in his +reaction to normal sights and sounds. But, after a day or two, the +same human adaptability that had made him accept the life in Ward 1 as +a matter of course rose to the new environment and occasion. Presently +his critical faculty flooded back again--almost for the first time +since his arrest. And he knew instinctively that he was standing again +on surer ground. He began to wonder, for instance, just what the +commonwealth was doing for these human derelicts which it shed such +facile tears over... He knew, of course, what it had done in his case. +It had given him three indifferent meals, vaccinated him, put him +through a few stereotyped quizzes to assure itself that he was neither +insane nor criminal, and finally moved him on to a less trying but an +equally vacuous existence. He used to wonder just what tortures the +others had endured during that week of probation in Ward 1, which, in +nearly every case, so far as he could learn, included the experience +of the bull pen. For, after all, these other men were physically +shaken from excess--weak, spent, tremulous. He had been through mental +tortures, but, at least, his body and soul had had some fitness for +the strain upon him. How close did the winds of madness come to +snapping clean these empty reeds ... how many were broken utterly? He +asked Monet. + +"Lots of them go under," Felix Monet had returned. "I think I came +very near it myself... I remember that first night I spent alone in +Ward One... I'd been three weeks without a drop of anything to drink. +Cut off, suddenly, like that!" He made a swift gesture. "And all at +once I found myself in a madhouse. I actually knocked my head against +the wall that night... And, in the morning, came the bull pen... They +knew I wasn't insane. My record--everything--proved that! ... When I +protested, their excuse was that everyone was equal here ... there +were no favorites. ... More lies in the name of equality! The thing +doesn't exist--it never has existed. Nothing is equal, and trying to +make it so produces hell. They're always trying to level ... level. +They want to strip you of everything but your flock mind. Ah yes, +timid sheep make easy herding!" + +For the first time Fred Starratt saw Monet quivering with unleashed +conviction, and he glimpsed the hidden turbulence of spirit which +churned under the placid surface. + +"After a while," Monet went on, "when I got almost to the snapping +point, they sent me to Ward Six. You know how it is--like a clear, +cold plunge ... it wakes you up... There's a method in it all. They +know that after a week in hell you find even purgatory desirable." + +"And yet, once you got away, you traveled the same road that had +brought you here in the first place... Was the game worth the candle?" + +"It was an escape while it lasted, even though it did lead me to +prison again... But isn't that where escape always leads? The world is +a good deal like Fairview--a rule-ridden institution on a larger +scale... We escape for a time in our work, in our play, in our loves, +but the tether's pretty short. ... And finally, one day, death swings +the door open and we go farther afield." + +"To another institution with a little more garden space?" Fred +queried, pensively. + +Monet shrugged. "Perhaps... Who knows?" + + * * * * * + +There followed another week of idleness, and one day, as Fred Starratt +was dawdling in the sun, Harrison came up to him and said: + +"The head waiter in the dining room at Ward Six goes out to-morrow. +Would you like his job?" + +"Like it?" Fred found himself echoing, incredulously. "Can I begin at +once ... now?" + +Harrison chuckled with rare good nature. "Well, to-morrow, anyway. +Just report in the kitchen after breakfast." + +He could hardly wait for the next morning to come. He bungled things +horribly at first. It looked easy enough from the side lines--bringing +in the plates of steaming food, doling out sugar for the tea, passing +the dishpan about at the end of the meal for the inmates to yield up +their knives and forks. But after the first day Fred was swept with a +healing humility. It was necessary for even the humblest occupation to +be lighted with flickerings of skill. + +He liked setting the table best, especially in the morning after the +breakfast crowd had gone. Then the sun was not yet too hot for comfort +and the long dining room was bathed in a golden mist. In a corner near +one of the windows a canary hopped blithely about its bobbing cage and +released its soul in a flood of song. He would begin by laying the +plates first, inverted, in long, precise rows. Then carefully he would +group the knives and forks about them. Not only carefully, but slowly, +so that the task might not be accomplished too readily. And all the +time his thoughts would be flying back and forth ... back and forth, +like a weaver's shuttle. At first these thoughts would pound harshly; +but gradually, under the spell of his busy hands, he would find his +mental process growing less and less painful, until he would wake up +suddenly and find that he had been day dreaming, escaping for a time +into a heaven of forgetfulness. + +Toward the end of the month a crew was picked among the inmates of +Ward 6 to man a construction camp a few miles to the north where the +state was building a dam. Clancy was among the number, and Fordham and +Wainright, junior. Monet was offered the choice of assisting Fred +Starratt in the dining room or going out with the kitchen staff to +camp. He chose the dining-room job. + +The only personal news from the outside world came to Fred in a weekly +letter from Helen, which arrived every Saturday night. He used to tear +the envelopes open viciously and read every word with cold disdain. He +never thought of answering one ... indeed, many a time he had an +impulse to send them back unopened. But curiosity always got the +better hand. Not that he found her news of such moment, but her +dissimulation fascinated him. She never chided him for not replying +... she never complained ... but every line was flavored with the +self-justification of all essential falseness. She was playing a game +with herself as completely as if she had written the letters and then +scribbled her own name upon the envelope. She was looking forward to +the day when she could say: + +"I did my duty ... I helped start him in business ... I saved him from +jail ... I wrote him a letter every week, in spite of the fact that he +never answered me... What more would you have a woman do?" + +What more, indeed? How completely he read her now! Yes, even between +the lines of her nonchalant gossipings he could glimpse her soul in +all its intricate completeness. Her letters were salt on his deadened +wound. Perhaps that was why he did not return them unopened. He felt +vaguely that it would be a shameful thing to be ultimately sealed to +indifference. + +But one Saturday night two letters were put into his hand. He read the +strange one first. + + I have not written you before because I had no news for you. + Yesterday I passed Hilmer's house and saw your wife wheeling + Mrs. Hilmer up and down the sidewalk. Some day when I get a + chance I shall speak to Mrs. Hilmer. + + I am living in a lodging house on Turk Street. My name is + Sylvia Molineaux. You will find my address below. Write and + tell me what you want. And always remember that I am here + watching. + + GINGER. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Toward the middle of the following week Fred answered Ginger's letter. +But his phrases were guarded and his description of life at the +hospital full of studied distortion. He knew quite well that every +letter which left the institution was opened and censored, but, with +certain plans lying fallow in his brain, he had a method back of the +exaggerated contentment he pictured. He had a feeling that Ginger +would not be misled altogether. She knew the deceitful bravado of life +too well and, according to her own report, something of the existence +he was leading in the bargain. He found himself curiously willing to +take anything from her hand that was in her power to supply. He felt +no sense of awkwardness, no arrogant pride, no irritating obligation. +She had become for him one of the definite, though unexplainable, +facts of existence which he accepted with all the simplicity of a +child of misfortune. + +She answered promptly, sending cigarettes and tobacco and a pipe. But +her letter was devoid of news---except that she had passed Hilmer's +again and found Helen wheeling Mrs. Hilmer back and forth in the +sunshine at the appointed hour. But, as time wore on, it transpired +that this seemingly innocent passing and repassing of the Hilmer house +carried unmistakable point. Presently, to Mrs. Hilmer, basking in the +sun and deserted for a moment, Ginger had nodded a brief good-morning. +There followed other opportunities for even more prolonged greetings +until the moment when Ginger had boldly carried on a short +conversation in the coldly calm presence of Helen Starratt. Helen must +have known Ginger. It was inconceivable that any woman, under the +circumstances, could have forgotten. But either indecision or a veiled +purpose made her assume indifference, and Ginger's progress was +registered in a short sentence at the end of a brief scrawl which +said: + + To-day I took a book out and read to Mrs. Hilmer for an hour + in the sunshine. + +And later another statement forwarded this curious drama with pregnant +swiftness: + + Yesterday, I told Mrs. Hilmer about you. + +Fred read this sentence over and over again. To what purpose did +Ginger discuss him with Mrs. Hilmer? ... Surely not altogether in the +name of entertainment. + +Meanwhile, summer died, hot and palpitant and arid to the end. And +autumn came gently with cool, foggy mornings and days of sunshine +mellowed like old gold. Fred Starratt rose in rapid succession to the +position of pantryman, head waiter to the attendants, assistant +bookkeeper in the office. He was given more and more freedom. Indeed, +between the working intervals, undisturbed by even a formal +surveillance, he and Monet fell to taking walks far afield. He found +the shorter days more tolerable. With dusk coming on rapidly, it was +easier to accept the inflexible rule that required everyone to be in +bed and locked up by seven o'clock. + +New faces made their appearance in Ward 6, old ones vanished. Clancy +made a get-away sometime in September just before the construction +camp broke up. Fordham tried also, but was unsuccessful, and got a +month in the bull pen for his pains. These adventures stirred everyone +to vague restlessness. Fred began to speculate on chances, talking +them over with Monet. But the boy seemed listless and depressed, +without enthusiasm for anything. He brooded a great deal apart. +Finally one day Fred asked him what was troubling him. + +"I miss my music," he said, briefly. + +Fred prodded further. His need was, of course, for a violin. + +"We'll write Ginger," Fred decided at once. + +It had seemed quite a matter of course until he sat down with pen in +hand and then he had a feeling that this last demand was excessive. He +fancied she would achieve it someway, and he was not mistaken. The +violin came and, everything considered, it was not a bad one. Monet's +joy was pathetic. Fred wrote back their thanks. "How did you manage +it?" he asked. + +Her reply was brief and significant: "You forget I know all kinds of +people." + +From the moment the violin arrived Monet was a changed man. Suddenly +he became full of nervous reactions to everything about him. He lost +all his sluggish indifference, he talked of flight now with +fascinating ardor. + +"When shall it be? Let us get out quickly. We can make our way easily +with this!" he would cry, tapping the violin lovingly. "While I play +on street corners you can collect the dimes and nickels." + +Monet had meant to be absurd, of course, but Fred was finding nothing +absurd or impossible these days. The youth's laughing suggestions +flamed him with a sudden yearning for vagabondage. He wanted, himself, +to be up and off. But by this time October was upon them, ushered in +by extraordinary rainfall. The coming rain gave him pause. He used to +look searchingly at Monet's delicate face, and finally one day, in +answer to the oft-repeated question, Fred replied: + +"I think we'll have to stand it until spring... If we want to go east, +over the mountains--this is no time." + +They had often speculated as to a route. Most runaways took the road +toward the coast and achieved capture even in the face of comparative +indifference. The trails to the east led into the heart of the Sierra +Nevada Mountains. With the first breath of autumn these byways, +difficult of achievement in any case, became more and more impassable. +And, while flight toward the west might be successful, it was too +charged with a suggestion of failure to be tempting. + +"We don't just want to _attempt_ to escape," Starratt used to explain. +"We want to _do_ it!" + +"But, spring!" Monet would echo. "That means May at the earliest. The +mountain passes will be impossible even in April. Let's try!" + +"Come, come! Why this sudden restlessness? I thought your music would +be a solace. But it seems to have made you dissatisfied. I can't +understand it." + +"We live by desire! I am happy only when I am burning! When the flame +is out there are only ashes." + +Fred yielded finally to the extent of starting plans. Food was the +first consideration. Monet was still in the dining room at Ward 6. +About the first of November he began hoarding sugar and rice. A hollow +tree in an obscure corner of the grounds back of the barns was the +hiding place. Everyday a little more was added to the store. The +process communicated a feeling of extraordinary interest to them both. +Around this almost trivial circumstance whirled the shadows of +infinite romance. Escape! At last these two men had a goal ... they +were no longer drifting. + +Once a week Fred continued to receive two letters--one from his wife +and one from Ginger. It was curious to compare them--reading an +ironical comedy between the lines ... creating the scenes that were +being enacted by the triangle of women in front of the Hilmer dwelling +every day in the early morning sunshine. For, as time went on, it +appeared that Ginger walked through her inscrutable part with +irritating fidelity--that is, irritating to Helen Starratt. It could +not be otherwise, Fred decided, remembering the look of cool contempt +which his wife had thrown at Ginger's departing figure on the day of +their last interview. He saw Mrs. Hilmer only vaguely, in a +half-light, and yet out of the fragmentary sentences he got a sense of +something patient and brooding and terrible waiting an appointed +season. She seemed to be sitting back like some veiled and mystic +chorus, watching the duel of the other two and somehow shaping it to +her passive purpose. + +And where was Hilmer in it all? Somehow, in spite of his masculine +virility, he seemed to have no place nor footing upon the narrow ledge +of feminine subtleties. No doubt, as usual, he was proceeding in his +direct and complacent line, unaware of anything save the brutally +obvious... Perhaps only the brutally obvious had any existence, +perhaps Fred Starratt was spinning fantasies out of threads which came +to his hand. He did not know, he could not say, but in the still +watches of the night the figures of these three women circled round +and round the seething caldron of the future like skinny witches upon +a blasted heath. + +Meanwhile, rain succeeded rain. Fred Starratt knew that escape was +impossible under these conditions, but he let Monet chatter away and +continue his hoarding. Thus they passed Thanksgiving, and suddenly +Fred felt that Christmas would soon be upon them, with all its +heartbreaking melancholy. + +As Christmas drew near a bitter restlessness began to pervade Ward 6. +The rain fell in torrents for days. There was little chance for fresh +air or exercise except in the bull pen, which was provided with a shed +that ran the length of the wall. Into this dismal and jail-like yard +poured the entire human wreckage of Fairview. Fred and Monet went with +the others for one or two days, but finally Monet said: + +"Let's walk in the rain ... anything would be better than this." + +And so the next day, waiting until a pelting shower had merged +gradually into a faint mist, the two took a quick-step run about the +parade ground. They came back splashed with mud and dripping wet, but +their cheeks glowed and their hearts beat quickly. After that, no +matter how violent the downpour, they managed to take a turn in the +open. Sometimes they circled the grounds repeatedly. Again, if the +rain proved too drenching, one short run was all they could achieve. + +At the end of a week of such heroic exercising Monet said, +significantly: + +"You see how well I am standing this! Every day toughens us up... We +ought to be leaving soon." + +"After Christmas," Fred conceded, briefly. + +There followed a brief respite of clear, crisp days, warming to +mellowness at noon. After the midday meal everyone crawled out into +the sunlight, standing in little shivering groups, while Monet played +upon his violin. The cracked inventor, pulling his cardboard box on +its ridiculous spools, stopped to listen; Weeping Willow forgot his +grief and almost achieved a smile. Only the Emperor of Japan continued +his pacing back and forth, his royal gloom untouched by any responsive +chord. + +But the reaction from this sedative of music was in every case +violent. The remainder of the afternoon passed in tragic unquiet. One +day Harrison called Fred aside. The assistant superintendent was daily +yielding more and more to Fred's judgment. + +"What do you think about a Christmas tree for Ward Six?" + +For a moment Fred was uncertain. He knew the poignance of disturbing +memories. But, in the end, he felt that perhaps the floodgate of grief +had best be lifted. He knew by this time the cleansing solace of +tears. + +"We've never done it before," Harrison went on. + +"There has been a prejudice against bringing old days back too clearly +to these wretches... But Monet's been playing his music and they seem +to like that." + +It ended by Fred going out with Monet and one of the attendants into +the hills and bringing back a beautiful fir tree. They set it up in a +corner of the dining room and its bruised fragrance filled the entire +building... There followed the problem of its trimming. At first some +one suggested that it was more beautiful untricked with gauds, but to +Fred, unlighted by any human touch its loveliness seemed too cold and +impersonal and cruelly pagan. Presently the long afternoons were +rilled with a pathetic bustle. Everyone became interested. They popped +corn and strung it in snow-white garlands and some one from the +kitchen sent in a bowl of cranberries which were woven into a +blood-red necklace for the central branches. Harrison brought round a +sack of walnuts and some liquid gilt and two brushes. Men began to +quarrel good-naturedly for a chance at the gilding. A woman attendant, +hearing about the tree, rode, herself, into the village and bought +candles... Finally it was finished, and it stood in the early twilight +of a dripping Christmas Eve, a fantastic captive from the hills, +suffering its severe dignity to be melted in a cheap, but human, +splendor... They had a late dinner by way of marking the event, and +the usual turn of keys in the locks at seven o'clock was missing. At +the close of the meal as they were bringing on plum pudding Fred rose +from his place to light the candles... A little tremor ran through the +room; Monet started to play... He played all the heartbreaking +melodies--"Noel" and "Nazareth" and "Adeste Fideles." Slowly the tears +began to trickle, but they fell silently, welling up from mysterious +reaches too deep for shallow murmurings. Suddenly a thin, quavering +voice started a song. + + "God rest you, merry gentlemen!" + +The first line rang out in all its tremulous bravery. + +"_Merry_ gentlemen!" flashed through Fred's mind. "What mockery!" + +But a swelling chorus took it up and in the next instant they were men +again. They sang it all--every word to the last line ... repeating +each stanza after the little man who had begun it and who had risen +and taken his place beside Monet. + + "Now to the Lord sing praises, + All you within this place, + And with true love and brotherhood + Each other now embrace, + This holy tide of Christmas + All other doth deface." + +Only Fred remained silent. He could not sing, +the bravery of it all smote him too deeply. + + "This holy tide of Christmas + All other doth deface." + +They were singing the last words over again. + +Fred Starratt bowed his head. For the first and only time in his life +he felt Christ very near. But the Presence passed as quickly. When he +looked up the singing had ceased and the candles upon the tree were +guttering to a pallid end. Monet laid down his violin and blew out the +dying flames; his face was ashen and as he grasped the branches of the +tree his hand shook. A man in front rose to his feet. Flockwise the +others followed his lead. Christmas was over!... Fred Starratt had a +sense that it had died still-born. + +The next morning came wrapped in a dreadful silence. Men stood about +in huddling groups and whispered. The exaltation of the night before +had been too violent. A great dreariness oppressed Fred Starratt. He +felt the inevitable sadness of a man who had met unveiled Beauty face +to face and as speedily found the vision dissolved. The tree still +swept the rooms and corridors with its fragrance, but in the harsh +daylight its cheap trappings gave it a wanton look. Somehow, it mocked +him, filled him with a sense of the vanity of life and all its +fleeting impressions. The rain came down in a tremulous flood, +investing everything with its colorless tears. The trees, the +buildings, the very earth itself seemed to be melting away in +silvery-gray grief. + +Just before noon it lightened up a trifle and the rain stopped. + +"Let's get out of this!" Monet said, sweeping the frozen assembly in +the smoking room with an almost scornful glance. + +They found their hats and without further ado they started on a swing +about the grounds. It grew lighter and lighter ... it seemed for a +moment as if the sun would presently peep out from the clouds. They +achieved the full length of the parade ground and stopped, panting for +breath. Fred wiped his forehead with a huge handkerchief. + +"Shall we keep going?" he asked. + +Monet nodded. They swung into a wolfish trot again, across a stretch +of green turf, avoiding the clogging mud of the beaten trails. They +said nothing. Presently their rhythmic flight settled down to a +pleasurable monotony. They lost all sense of time and space. + +Gradually their speed slackened, and they were conscious that they +were winding up ... up... It was Monet who halted first. They were on +a flat surface again, coming out of a thicket suddenly. There was a +level sweep of ground, ending abruptly in space. + +"We're on Squaw Rock!" Fred Starratt exclaimed. + +The two went forward to the edge of a precipice. The embryo plain +leaped violently down a sheer three hundred feet directly into the lap +of a foaming river pool. Fred peered over. + +"There's the usual Indian legend, isn't there," he asked Monet, +"connected with this place?" + +Monet moved back with a little shudder. "Yes ... I believe there is... +The inevitable lovelorn maiden and the leap to death... Well, it's a +good plunging place." + +They both fell back a trifle, letting their gaze sweep the landscape +below, which was unfolding in theatrical unreality. At that moment the +sun came out, flooding the countryside with a flash of truant +splendor. To the south nestled the cluster of hospital buildings, each +sending out thin gray lines of smoke. Moving up the valley, hugging +the sinuous banks of the river, a train nosed its impudent way. + +"When shall we be leaving for good?" Monet asked, suddenly. + +Fred let out a deep breath. "The first time it really clears!" + +Monet rested his hand upon Fred's shoulder. "If we go east we'll have +to cross the river." + +"We'll follow the railroad track north for a mile or two. There's a +crossing near Pritchard's. I saw it on the day we went after the +tree." + +The train pulled into the station and was whistling on its way again. +The hospital automobile swung toward the grounds. Suddenly the sun was +snuffed out again; it grew dark and lowering. + +"We had better be on our way," Fred said, warningly. "It's going to +pour in less than no time." + +For a moment a silence fell between them, succeeded by an outburst +from Monet. + +"Let's keep on!" he cried, harshly. "Let's keep right on going! I +don't want to go back. I won't, I tell you! I won't!" + +Fred took him by the shoulders ... he was trembling violently. "Come +... come! We can't do that, you know!... We haven't provisions or +proper clothing. And the rain, my boy! We'd die of exposure ... or ... +worse!" + +"I don't care!" Monet flung out, passionately. "I'm not afraid to die +... not in the open." + +"And you haven't your violin," Fred put in, gently. + +"I never want to play again--after last night. ... It was horrible ... +horrible... '_God rest you, merry gentlemen_!' What could have +possessed them?" + +"Come, now!... You'll feel better to-morrow... And I promise you on +the first clear day we'll make it... The first morning we wake up and +find a cloudless sky." + +Fred moved forward, urging Monet to follow. The youth gave a little +shiver and suffered Fred's guidance. + +"If I go back now," he said, sadly, "it will be forever. I shall never +leave." + +Fred turned about and gave him a slight shake. "Nonsense! Last night +made you morbid. Harrison ought to have known better. This is no place +for Christmas! One day should be always like another." + +Monet shook his head. "While they were sing ... something passed ... I +can't describe it. But I grew cold all over ... I knew at once that... +Oh, well! what's the use? You do not understand!" + +He flung his hands up in a gesture of despair. + +Fred looked up at the sky. It had grown ominously black. "We'd better +speed up," he said, significantly. + +Monet squared himself doggedly. "You run if you want to... It doesn't +matter to me one way or another ... I feel tired." + +The rain began to fall in great garrulous drops. Fred took Monet's +sleeve between his fingers; slowly they retraced their steps. For a +few yards the youth surrendered passively, but as Fred neared the +thicket again he felt the sharp release of Monet's coat sleeve. He +continued on his way... Suddenly he heard a noise of swift feet +stirring up the rain-soaked leaves. He turned abruptly. Monet was +running in the other direction--toward the precipice. A dreadful chill +swept him. He tried to call, to run, but a great weakness transfixed +him. The startled air made a foolish whistling sound. Monet's figure +flew on in silence, gave a quick leaping movement, and was lost! + +Fred Starratt crawled back toward the precipice. The rain descended in +torrents and a wind rose to meet its violence. He looked down. The +pool below was churning to whitecapped fury, releasing a flood of +greedy and ferocious gurglings. Gradually a bitter silence fell and a +gloom gathered. Everything went black as midnight... + +He felt a cold blast playing through his hair. Instinctively he put +his hand to his head. His hat was gone. + +Suddenly it came to him that he would have to go back to Fairview ... +_alone_. + +He rose to his feet. "North ... a mile or two!" he muttered. "If I can +once cross the bridge!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +On a certain evening in February Fred Starratt, from the upper deck of +a ferryboat, again saw the dusky outlines of San Francisco stretch +themselves in faint allurement pricked with glittering splendor. It +was a mild night--the skies clear, the air tinged with pleasant chill, +the bay stilled to nocturnal quiet. + +He had come out upon the upper deck to be alone. He wanted to approach +the city of his birth in decent solitude, to feel the thrill of +home-coming in all its poignant melancholy. He had expected the event +to assume a special significance, to be fraught with hidden meaning, +to set his pulses leaping. But he had to confess that neither the +beauty of the night nor the uncommon quality of the event moved him. +Had he been wrung dry of all emotional reaction? It was not until a +woman came from the stuffy cabin and took a seat in a sheltered corner +outside that he had the slightest realization of the nearness of his +old environment. As she passed close to his pacing form a sickly sweet +odor enveloped him. He looked after her retreating figure. She was +carrying a yellow armful of blossoming acacia. The perfume evoked a +sad memory of virginal springs innumerable ... springs that seemed to +go back wistfully beyond his own existence ... springs long dead and +never to be revived. Dead? No, perhaps not quite that, but springs +never to be again his portion. This perfume of the blossoming acacia +... how in the old days it had always brought home a sense of +awakening, a sense of renewal to a land burned and seared and ravished +in the hot and tearless passion of summer! Following the first rains +would come the faint flush of green upon the hillsides, growing a +little deeper as the healing floods released themselves, and then, one +day, suddenly, almost overnight, the acacia would bend beneath a +yellow burden, sending a swooning fragrance out to match the yellow +sunlight of February. From that moment on the pageant was continuous, +bud and blossom and virginal leaf succeeding one another in showering +abundance. But nothing that followed quite matched the heavy beauty of +these first golden boughs, nothing that could evoke quite the same +infinite yearning for hidden and heroic destinies. He defined the +spell of the perfume again, but he did not feel it. It shook his +memory to its foundations, but it left his senses cold. And the city +before him was as sharply revealed and as cruelly unmoving. + +Suddenly he was done with a desire for solitude and he went below. A +half score of men were idling upon the lower deck. He began his +restless pacings again, stroking his faded beard with a strangely +white hand. Finally he stopped, gazing wistfully at the dark beauty of +the ferry tower, sending its winsome shaft up into the quivering +night. A man at his elbow began to speak in the characteristically +Californian fashion about the weather. + +"Yes," Fred assented, briefly, "it _is_ a fine night." + +"Too fine," the stranger returned. "We need rain." + +"Haven't you had much down this way, either?" Fred found himself +inquiring, glad of a chance to escape for the moment into the +commonplace. + +"At the beginning of the season it came on a bit, but since Christmas +there has been scarcely a drop. How does the country look?" + +Fred leaned against a water barrel and continued to stroke his beard. + +"Pretty well burned up. But the fruit trees will soon be blossoming in +spite of everything... The worst of it is there isn't any snow in the +mountains." + +"Ah, then you've been up into the Sierras." + +"Yes, since December... I had to make my way through the northern +passes just after Christmas. Folks told me it couldn't be done... I +guess it would have been almost impossible in a wet season. But things +were the same way up north. No end of rain in the fall and none to +speak of since the holidays. But at that I've been through some tough +times... How are things in town?" + +The stranger unbuttoned his shabby overcoat and took out a bag of +tobacco. His indifferent suit and thick blue-flannel shirt, which +ordinarily would have stamped him as an artisan, was belied by the +quality of his speech. + +"Things are rotten. Everybody is striking. You can't get work anywhere +except you want to scab... You'd better have stayed where you came +from." + +There was a tentative quality in this observation that roused in Fred +a vague speculation. He had a feeling that the stranger was leading up +cautiously to some subject. He looked again, this time sharply, at his +companion of the moment. There was nothing extraordinary in the face +except the eyes burning fitfully under the gloom of incredibly thick, +coarse, reddish eyebrows. His mouth was a curious mixture of softness +and cruelty, and his hands were broad, but not ungraceful. + +"Well, if a man is starving he'll do almost anything, I guess," Fred +returned, significantly. + +"Do you mean that _you_ would--if you were starving?" + +"I'm starving now!" escaped Fred Starratt, almost involuntarily. + +"I thought so," said the other, quietly. + +"Why?" + +"I've seen plenty of starving men in my day. I know the look. And +you're suffering in the bargain. Not physically. But you've been +through a hell of some kind. Am I right?" + +"Yes ... you're quite right." + +The boat was swinging into the slip. Already a crowd was moving down +upon them. + +"That's why I spoke to you. A man who's been through hell is like a +field freshly broken to the plow. He's ready for seed." + +Fred cast an ironical glance at the man before him. "And you, I +suppose, are the sower," he said, mockingly. "A parson?" + +The other laughed, disclosing greenish teeth. "Of a sort... Perhaps +high priest would be nearer the truth. There's a certain purposeful +cruelty about that term which appeals to me. I'm a bit of a fanatic, +you know... But I like to get my recruits when they're bleeding raw. I +like them when the salt of truth can sting deep... Wounds heal so +quickly ... so disgustingly quickly." + +He spat contemptuously and began to cram a blackened pipe to +overflowing. The boat had landed and already the crowd was moving up +the apron. Fred and his companion felt themselves urged forward by the +pressure of this human tide. + +"Come and have some coffee with me," Fred heard the man at his side +say in a half-commanding tone. "My name is Storch. What shall I call +you?" + +"Anything you like!" Fred snapped, viciously. + +The other laughed. "You're in capital form! Upon my word we'll get on +famously together." And he spat again, this time with satisfaction and +rare good humor. + +Fred Starratt looked up. They had emerged suddenly from the uncertain +twilight of a stone-flanked corridor into a harsh blue-white flood of +electricity. A confused babble of noises fell upon his ears. He put +out his hand instinctively and clutched the arm of the man at his +side. + +"Yes ... yes..." the voice of his companion broke in, reassuringly. +"You're all right. In a moment ... after you've had coffee things +will..." + +He clutched again and presently, like a drowning man borne upon the +waves by a superior force, he felt himself guided through a maze of +confusing details, into swift and certain safety. + + * * * * * + +The coffee house into which Fred Starratt had been led by Storch was +choked with men and the thick odor of coffee and fried ham. To a man +who had eaten sparingly for days the smell of food was nauseating. +Storch ordered coffee for himself and a bowl of soup for Fred. This +last was a good choice in spite of the fact that for a moment Fred +felt instinctive rebellion. These pale, watery messes were too +suggestive of Fairview. But in the end the warm fluid dissipated his +weakness and he began to experience a normal hunger. + +Storch finished his cup of coffee and wiped a dark-brown ooze from his +upper lip with a paper napkin. + +"Better take a slice of bread or two," he advised Fred, "and then call +it quits. You'll feel better in the long run. A starved stomach +shouldn't be surprised with too much food." + +Fred obeyed. He could see that this man understood many things. + +Gradually the crowd thinned. Soon only Fred and Storch were left at +the particular table that they had chosen. Stragglers came and went, +but still Storch made no move to go, and Fred was equally inactive. He +felt warm and comfortably drowsy and, on the whole, quite content. The +waiter cleared away the empty dishes and then discreetly ignored them. +Fred fell to studying his reflection in the polished mirror running +the length of the room. He had to acknowledge that he looked savage, +with his hair long and untidy and a bristling, sunburnt beard +smothering his features. And suddenly, in the intensity of his +concentration, he felt a swooning sense of nonexistence, as if his +inner consciousness had detached itself someway from the egotism of +the flesh and stood apart, watching... He was recalled by Storch's +voice. He shuddered slightly and turned his face toward his +questioner. + +"I didn't hear what you said," escaped him. + +Storch leaned forward. "I was asking what you were doing ... up north +in the mountains during December. Only a desperate man or a fool would +take a chance like that... And I can see you're not a fool... There +aren't any prisons up that way that I know of." + +"_Prisons_! What do you mean?" + +"You've escaped from somewhere." + +"How do you know?" + +"You're still furtive in spite of your pretended calm. I know the +look. I know the feeling. I've seen scores of men who have been +through the mill. I've been through the mill myself. Not once, but +several times. I've been in nearly every jail in the country worth +putting up at... Even the Federal prisons haven't been proof against +me. I've beat them all. It's a game I like to play. Just as one man +plunges into stocks, or another breaks strikes, or another leads a +howling mob to victory... Every man has his game. What's yours?" + +Fred shrugged. "Why are you telling me all this?" he countered. "You +don't know me." + +Storch laughed, showing his greenish teeth again. "What difference +does that make?... I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I think +I've got you right. You might play a rough game, but it would be +square--according to your standards... I question most standards, but +that is neither here nor there. They shackle some people +extraordinarily. Just now you're drifting about without any. But +you'll tie to some sort of anchor pretty soon... That's why you +interest me. I want to get you while you're still drifting." + +Fred felt a sudden chill. He was suspicious of this ironically genial +man opposite him who bought him food and then prodded for his secret. +There was something diabolical about the way he calmly admitted an +impersonal but curiously definite interest. + +"What is your business, anyway?" Fred shot out, suddenly. + +"I'm a fisher for men," he replied, cryptically. "Some people build up +... others destroy. There must be always those who clear the +ground--the wreckers, in other words... There's too much attention +paid to building. Folks are in such a hurry they go about rearing all +kinds of crazy structures on rotten foundations... I'm looking for +some human dynamite to make a good job." + +Fred drew back. "You've got me wrong," he said. "I'm not a radical." + +"Not yet, of course. Your kind take a lot of punishment before they +see the light. But you're a good prospect--a damned good prospect. +You're a good deal like a young fellow I met last fall when I was +working over in the shipyards in Oakland. He--" + +"Shipyards?" interrupted Fred. "Not Hilmer's shipyards, by any +chance?" + +Storch leaned forward, drawing his shaggy eyebrows together. "Why?" + +"I know Hilmer, that's all." + +Storch continued his searching scrutiny. Fred felt uneasy--it seemed +as if this man opposite him was drawing the innermost secret of his +soul to the surface. Finally Storch rubbed his hands together with an +air of satisfaction as he said: + +"So you know Hilmer!... That makes you all the more interesting... +Well, well, let's be moving. I'll put you up for the night. I've got a +shelter, such as it is." + +Fred rose. He had an impulse to refuse. There was something uncanny +about the power of Storch. He was at once fascinating and repulsive. +But, on second thought, any shelter was better than a night spent on +the streets. He had had two months of buffeting and he was ready for +even an indifferent comfort. + +He ended by going with his new-found friend. They trotted south along +the Embarcadero, hugging the shadows close. This street, once noisy +with a coarse, guzzling gayety, was silent. A few disconsolate men +hung about the emasculated bars trying to rouse their sluggish spirits +on colicky draughts of near beer and grape juice, but the effect was +dismal and forbidding. Fred felt a great depression overwhelm him. + +He had grown accustomed to the silence of the open spaces, but this +silence of the city had a portentous quality which frightened him. It +reminded him of that ominous quiet that had settled down on Fairview +after that heartbreaking celebration on Christmas Eve. What were men +doing with their idle moments? How were they escaping from the drab +to-day? Did the crowded lobbies of the sailors' lodging houses spell +the final word in the bleak entertainment that intolerance had left +them? Upon one of the street corners a Salvation Army lassie harangued +an indifferent handful. But there seemed nothing now from which to +save these men except monotony, and religion of the fife-and-drum +order was offering only a very dreary escape. Did the moral values of +negative virtue make men any more admirable? he found himself +wondering. + +Storch led the way in silence. Finally they turned up toward the +slopes of Rincon Hill. A cluster of shacks, clinging crazily to the +tawny banks, loomed ahead in the darkness. Storch clambered along a +beaten trail and presently he leaped toward the broader confines of a +street which opened its arms abruptly to receive them. Fred followed. +The thoroughfare upon which he found himself standing was little more +than a lane, hedged on either side by crazy structures that nearly all +had sprung to rambling life from one-roomed refugee shacks which had +dotted the city after the fire and earthquake. Most of them were vine +clad and brightened with beds of scarlet geraniums, but the house +before which Storch halted rose uncompromisingly from the sun-baked +ground without the charity of a covering. Storch turned the key and +threw the door open, motioning Fred to enter. Fred did as he was +bidden and found himself in a cluttered room, showing harshly in the +light streaming in from a near-by street lamp. The air was foul with +stale tobacco, refuse, and imprisoned odors of innumerable greasy +meals and the sweaty apparel of men who work with their hands. + +Storch lighted a lamp. A tumble-down couch stood against the wall, and +in an opposite corner a heap of tattered quilts had been flung +disdainfully. Tables and chairs and even the floor were piled with +papers and cheaply covered books and tattered magazines. + +Storch pointed to the couch. "You sleep there to-night. I'll roll up +on the floor." + +It never occurred to Fred to protest. The two began to shed their +outer garments. Fred crawled in between the musty quilts. Storch blew +out the lamp, and Fred saw him move toward the quilts in the corner. +Without bothering to straighten them out he flung himself down and +pulled a covering over him. The light from the street lamp continued +to flood the room. Presently Fred heard Storch chuckling. + +"So you know Hilmer!" he was repeating again, making a sound of +satisfaction, as one does over a succulent morsel. "Well ... well ... +fancy how things turn out!" + +Fred made no reply, and after a time a gentle snoring told that Storch +had fallen asleep. + +Fred tossed about, oppressed by the close air. But, in the end, even +he fell into a series of fitful dozes. He dreamed the room in which he +was sleeping was suddenly transformed into a huge spider web from +which there was no escape. And he caught glimpses of Storch himself +hanging spider-wise from a gossamer thread, spinning dizzily in +midair... He awoke repeatedly, returning as often to the same dream. +Toward morning he heard a faint stirring about. But he lay huddled in +a pretense of sleep... Finally the door banged and he knew that Storch +had left... He let out a profound sigh and turned his face from the +light... + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +When Fred Starratt awoke a noonday sun was flooding in at the single +window. Consciousness brought no confusion ... he was beginning to +grow accustomed to sudden shifts in fortune and strange environments +had long since ceased to be a waking novelty. Outside he could hear +the genial noises of a thickly populated lane--shrilly cried bits of +neighborhood gossip bandied from doorstep to doorstep ... the laughter +of children ... the call of a junkman ... even a smothered cackling +from some captive hen fulfilling its joyful function in spite of +restraint. He did not rise at once, but he lay there thinking, trying +to force the realization that he was again in San Francisco... He +wondered dimly at the power of the homing instinct that had driven him +back. It was plain to him now that almost any other environment would +have been materially better. He had had the whole state of California +to choose from, indeed he might have flown even farther afield. But +from the very beginning his feet had turned homeward with uncanny +precision. On those first days and nights when he had lain huddled in +any uncertain shelter that came to hand the one thought that had +goaded him on was the promise of this return. + +And those first hours of freedom had been at once the sweetest and the +bitterest. Wet to the skin, starved, furtive, like a lean, dog-harried +coyote he had achieved the mountains and safety more dead than alive. +Looking back, he could see that only the sheerest madness had tempted +him to flight in the first place. Without an ounce of provisions, +without blankets, at the start lacking even a hat, he had defied the +elements and won. God was indeed tender with all fools and madmen! + +He knew now that under ordinary circumstances he must have perished in +the mountain passes. But the weather had been warm there all during +December and more rain than snow had fallen, keeping the beaten paths +reasonably open... He had thought always of these snow-pent places as +quite devoid of any life at the winter season, and he was amazed to +find how many human beings burrowed in and hibernated during the +storm-bound months. Elsewhere, the skulking traveler received a chary +welcome, but in the silent fastness of the hills latchstring and +hearthstone and tobacco store were for genial sharing. In almost any +one of these log shelters that he chanced upon he might have settled +himself in content and found an indefinite welcome, but the urge to be +up and on sent him forward to the next rude threshold. Thus mountain +cabin succeeded mountain cabin until, presently, one day Fred Starratt +found himself swinging down to the plains again--to the broad-bosomed +valleys lying parched and expectant under the cruel spell of drought. +Now people regarded him suspiciously, dogs snapped at his heels, and +farmers' women thrust him doles of food through half-opened kitchen +doors. Here and there he picked up a stray job or two. But he was +plainly inefficient for most tasks assigned him... In the small towns +there were not enough jobs to go round ... young men were returning +from overseas and dislodging the incompetents who had achieved +prosperity because of the labor shortage. The inland cities were in +the grip of strikes ... there were plenty of jobs, but few with the +temerity to attempt to fill them. And, besides, what had Fred Starratt +to offer in the way either of skill or brawn?... He grew to know the +meaning of impotence. No, he was a creature of the paved streets, and +to the paved streets he returned as swiftly as his feet and his +indifferent fortune could carry him. Besides, he had grown hungry for +familiar sights and faces, and perhaps, down deep, curiosity had been +the mainspring of his return. Even bitter ties have a pull that cannot +always be denied. At Fairview the presence of Monet had held him +almost a willing captive. There was something about the flame burning +in that almost frail body that had lighted even the ugliness of +Fairview with a strange beauty. He could not think of him as dead. +That last moment had been too tinged with the haunting poetry of life. +How often he had reconstructed that scene--the gray, sullen rain +pattering on the spent leaves, the quick-rushing sound of a body in +flight, the sudden leap of a soul toward greater freedom! And then the +vision of the churning pool below closing in triumphantly as it might +have done upon some reclaimed pagan creature that had tasted the +bitter wine of exile and returned in leaping joy to its chosen +element! It was not the shock and sadness of death that had sent Fred +Starratt for a moment stark mad into the storm and freedom, but rather +an ecstasy of loneliness ... a yearning to match daring with daring. + +And now he was home again, in his own gray-green city, lying beneath +tattered quilts in a hovel, with the selfsame February sun that had +once pricked him to a spiritual adventure flooding in upon him! He +rose and threw open the door. The soft noontide air floated in, +displacing the fetid atmosphere. He looked about the room searchingly. +In the daylight it seemed even more unkempt, but less forbidding. A +two-burner kerosene stove stood upon an empty box just under the +window. On another upturned box at its side lay a few odds and ends of +cooking utensils, shriveling bits of food, a plate or two. He found a +loaf of dry bread and cut a slice from it. This, together with a glass +of water, completed his breakfast. + +He tried to brush his weather-beaten clothes into decency with a stump +of a whisk broom and to wipe the dust of the highroad from his almost +spent shoes. But, somehow, these feeble attempts at gentility seemed +to increase his forlorn appearance. + +He went over and straightened out the bedcoverings. At least he would +leave the couch in some semblance of order. What did Storch expect him +to do? Come back again for shelter? He had no plans, but as he went +out, banging the door, he felt no wish to return. + +His first thought now was to see Ginger. He went to the Turk Street +address. He found a huge frame mansion of the 'eighties converted into +cheap lodgings. The landlady, wearing large jet and gold ornaments, +eyed him suspiciously. Miss Molineaux no longer lived there. Her +present address? She had left none. Thus dismissed, he turned his +steps toward the Hilmers'. + +He had expected to come upon the vision of his wife wheeling Mrs. +Hilmer up and down the sidewalk, and yet, when these expectations were +realized, he experienced a shock. There she was, Helen Starratt, in a +black dress and a black hat, pacing with drab patience the full length +of the block and back again. He could not get a good view of her face +because her hat shaded her eyes. Mrs. Hilmer's figure, equally +indistinct, was a shapeless mass of humanity. A child, coming out of a +nearby house with a pair of roller skates in her hand, stood off and +answered his questions, at first reluctantly, but finally with the +importance of encouraged childhood... Who was the lady in the wheeled +chair? Mrs. Hilmer. And the other one in black? Her name was Starratt. +No, she didn't know her very well. But people said she was very sad. +She dressed in black and looked unhappy. Why? Because her husband was +dead. No, there was no mistake--she had heard her mother say so many +times--Mrs. Starratt's husband was dead, quite dead!... + +He turned back toward town. _Dead, quite dead_! Well, the child had +reckoned better than she knew! + +He retraced his steps slowly, resting upon many hospitable doorsteps +that afternoon. The noise of the city confused him, the stone +pavements hurt his ankles, he was hungry and faint. He did not know +what to do or where to go. Only one shelter lay open to him. Should he +go back to Storch? + +Finally, toward five o'clock, he found himself standing upon the +corner of California and Montgomery streets, watching the tide of +office workers flooding homeward. A truant animation was flaming them +briefly. Familiar face after familiar face passed, lighted with the +joy of sudden release from servitude. Fred Starratt was curiously +unmoved. He had fancied that he would feel a great yearning toward all +this well-ordered sanity. He had fancied that he would be overwhelmed +with memories, with regrets, with futile tears. But he knew now that +even if it were possible to re-enter the world in which he had once +moved he would refuse scornfully. Was it always so with those who +achieved death? Ah yes, death was the great progression, one never +re-entered the circle of life one quitted. Dead, quite dead! Or, as +Storch put it, "A field freshly broken to the plow!" A field awaiting +the eternal upspringing and the inevitable harvest... And so on, again +and again, to the end of time! + +He came out of his musings with a renewed sense of faintness and the +realization that the street was rapidly being emptied of its throng. A +few stragglers hurried toward the ferry. He roused himself. A +green-gold light was enlivening the west and giving a ghostly +unreality to the street lamps twinkling in a premature blossoming. + +He was turning to go when he saw a familiar figure coming up the +street. He looked twice to assure himself that he was not mistaken. It +was Brauer! + +He stood a moment longer, roused to indifferent curiosity, but, as +Brauer brushed close, a sudden malevolent hatred shook him. He squared +himself and said in a hoarse tone: + +"I'm starving... I want money ... to eat!" Brauer turned a face of +amazed and insolent incredulity toward Fred. + +"Well, you won't get it from me!" he flung back. + +Fred Starratt grasped Brauer's puny wrist in a ferocious grip. + +"Oh yes, I will... Do you know who I am?" + +"You? ... No... Let me go; you're hurting me!" + +"Look at me closely!" + +"I tell you I don't know you. Are you crazy?" + +"Perhaps... I've been in an insane asylum... Now do you know who I +am?" + +Brauer fell back. "No," he breathed: "it can't be possible! Fred +Starratt is dead." + +Fred began to laugh. "You're right. But I want something to eat just +the same. You're going to take me into Hjul's ... and buy me a meal. +... And after I've eaten perhaps you'll hear how I died and who killed +me." + +He could feel Brauer trembling in his grasp. A rising cruelty +overwhelmed him. He flung Brauer from him with a gesture of contempt. + +"Are we going to eat?" he asked, coldly. + +"Yes ... whatever you say." + +Fred nodded and together the two drifted down Montgomery Street. + +Sitting over a generous platter of pot roast and spaghetti at Hjul's, +with Brauer's pallid face staring up at him, Fred Starratt had the +realization that there was at least one mouselike human to whom he +could play the role of cat. + +Brauer did not need to be prodded to speech. He told everything with +the eagerness of a child caught in a fault and seeking to curry the +favor of his questioner. He and Kendricks were placing all the Hilmer +insurance. Yes, they were rebating--that went without saying. And what +else lay at the bottom of Hilmer's generosity? Fred Starratt put the +question insinuatingly. Ah yes, the little matter of standing by when +Starratt had been sent to Fairview. No, Hilmer had made no demand, but +he had advised Brauer to be firm--through his lawyer, of course ... a +hint, nothing more--that some sort of example should be made of men +who... +Yes, that was just as it had happened. + +"And you knew where they were sending me?" Fred was moved to demand, +harshly. + +"Well ... yes... But Hilmer's lawyer put it so convincingly... +Everything was to be for the best." + +"Including your share in the Hilmer business?" + +Brauer had the grace to wince. "Well, there was nothing said +absolutely." + +"And what did you figure was Hilmer's reason for ... well, wanting me +to summer at Fairview?" + +Brauer toyed with a spoon. "There could only be one reason." + +"Don't be afraid. You mean that my wife..." + +"Yes ... just that!" + +Fred Starratt had a sense that he should have been stirred to anger, +but instead a great pity swept him, pity for a human being who could +sell another so shamelessly and not have the grace to deny it. Yes, he +realized now that there were times when a lie was the most +self-respecting and admirable thing in the world. + +"It appears that I am dead also. I saw my wife to-day mourning for me +in the most respectable of weeds." + +"Your hat, you see--it was found in the water ... not far from the +dead body of your friend... Naturally..." + +"Yes, naturally, the wish was father to the thought. Just so!" + +And with that Fred Starratt laughed so unpleasantly that Brauer +shivered and his face reddened. + +By this time Fred Starratt had finished eating. Brauer paid the check +and the two departed. At the first street corner Brauer attempted to +slip a five-dollar bill into Starratt's hand. He refused scornfully. + +"Money? I don't want your money. There is only one thing that will buy +my good will--_your silence_. Do you understand what I mean? ... I'm +not the same man you tricked last July. Then I thought I had +everything to lose. Now I know that no one ever loses anything... You +don't understand me, do you? ... Oh, well, it doesn't matter." + +Brauer's frightened lips scarcely moved as he asked: + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Anywhere I can find a shelter... Last night I spent with an +anarchist... I think he'd blow up almost anyone for just the sheer joy +of it." + +Brauer shuddered. "Where will you spend to-night?" + +"I think I'll go back to the same place... This morning I was +undecided. But I've heard a lot of things since then... I'm taking an +interest in life again... By the way, the man I'm staying with knows +Hilmer... And I don't think he likes him, either... I'll give you one +tip, Brauer. Never get an anarchist sore at you... _They_ haven't +anything to lose, either." + +He had never seen such pallor as that which shook the color from +Brauer's face. He decided not to torment him further. + +He had established a sense of the unfathomable for the present and +future terror of his trembling little ex-partner. His revenge, so far +as Brauer was concerned, was complete. He had not the slightest wish +to see Brauer again. + +He let his hands close once more tightly about Brauer's puny wrists. + +"Remember ... you have not seen me. Do you understand?" + +"Yes." + +"Not a living soul ... you are not to even suggest that ... otherwise +... well, I am living with an anarchist, and a word to the wise ..." + +He turned abruptly and left his companion standing on the street +corner, staring vacantly after him. + +Instinctively his footsteps found their way to Storch's shack. A light +was glimmering inside. Fred beat upon the door. It swung open quickly, +revealing Storch's greenish teeth bared in a wide smile of +satisfaction. + +"Come in ... come in!" Storch cried out gayly. "Have a good day?" + +"Excellent!" Fred snapped back, venomously. "I learned, among other +things, that I am legally dead." + +Storch rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "A clean slate! Do +you realize how wonderful it is, my man, to start fresh?" + +Fred threw himself into a chair. He felt tired. Sharp, darting pains +were stabbing his eyes. "I think I'm going to be ill!" he said, with +sudden irrelevance. + +Storch lighted the oil stove. "Crawl into bed and I'll get you +something hot to drink!" + +Storch's tone was kind to a point of softness, and yet, later, when he +bent over the couch with a steaming glass in his hand Fred experienced +a sharp revulsion. + +"I dreamed all last night," Fred said, almost defiantly, "that this +room was a cobweb and that you were a huge spider, dangling on a +thread." + +"And you were the fly, I suppose," Storch replied, sneeringly. + +The next instant he had touched Fred's forehead gently, almost +tenderly, but his eyes glittered beneath their shaggy brows with an +insane ferocity... Fred took the glass. He was too ill to care much +one way or the other. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Next morning Fred Starratt knew that he was too ill to rise. Then +everything became hazy. He had moments of consciousness when he sensed +Storch's figure moving in a sort of mist, flashing a green smile +through the gloom. He saw other figures, too---Helen Starratt, swathed +in clinging black; Hilmer, displaying his mangled thumb; Monet with +eyes of gentle reproach; and Ginger, very vague and very wistful. +There were times when the room seemed crowded with strange people who +came and went and gesticulated, people gathering close to the dim lamp +which Storch lighted at nightfall. + +The visions of Monet were a curious mixture of shadow and reality. +Sometimes he seemed very elusive, but, again, his face would grow +clear to the point of dazzling brightness. At such moments Fred would +screen his eyes and turn away, only in the end to catch a melting +glimpse of Monet fading gradually with a gesture of resignation and +regret. But slowly the outlines of Monet grew less and less tangible +and the personality of Storch more and more shot through with +warm-breathed vitality, and the strange company that gathered at dusk +about the lamp became living things instead of shadows. Yet it took +him some time to realize that these nightly gatherings at Storch's +were composed of real flesh and blood. + +At first he was content to lie in a drowse and listen to the +incoherent babblings of these nocturnal visitors, but, as he grew +stronger, detached bits of conversation began to impress themselves +upon him. These people had each some pet grievance and it remained for +Storch to pick upon the strings of their discontents with unerring +accuracy. At about eight o'clock every night the first stragglers +would drift in, reinforced by a steady stream, until midnight saw a +room stuffed with sweating humanity releasing their emotions in a +biting flood of protests. They protested at everything under the +sun--at custom, at order, at work, at play, at love, at life itself. +And Storch, for the most part silent, would sit with folded arms, +puffing at his pipe, a suggestion of genial malice on his face, +throwing out a phrase here and there that set the pack about him +leaping like hungry dogs to the lure of food. In confused moments Fred +Starratt fell to wondering whether he really had escaped from +Fairview, whether the forms about him were not the same motley +assembly that used to gather in the open and exchange whines. The +wails now seemed keyed to howls of defiance, but the source was +essentially the same. + +Fred wondered how he lived through these dreadful evenings with the +air thick to choking. Indeed, he used to wonder what had saved him +from death at any stage of the game. Storch had permitted him the use +of a maggoty couch, had shared scraps of indifferent food at irregular +intervals, and set a cracked pitcher of water within reach. But beyond +that, he had been ignored. The nightly assembly did not even cast +their glances his way. + +During the day Fred was left alone for the most part, and he felt a +certain luxury in this personal solitude after the months at Fairview +with its unescapable human contacts. He would lie there, his ears +still ringing with the echoes from the nightly gathering of +malcontents, trying to reconstruct his own quarrel with life. He had a +feeling that he would remain a silent onlooker only until Storch +decreed otherwise. If he stayed long enough the night would come when +Storch would call upon him for a testimonial of hatred. He knew that +deep down somewhere within him rancors were stirring to sinister life. +He had experienced the first glimmerings of cruelty in that moment +when he had felt Brauer tremble under his grasp. What would have been +his reaction to physical fear on Helen Starratt's part? Suppose on +that afternoon when he had watched her wheeling Mrs. Hilmer up and +down with deceitful patience he had gone over and struck her the blow +which was primitively her portion? Would the sight of her whimpering +fear have stirred him to further elemental cruelties? Would he have +ended by killing her? ... Physically weak as he was, he could still +feel the thrill of cruelty that had shaken him at the realization of +Brauer's dismay. As a child, when a truant gust of deviltry had swept +him, he had felt the same satisfaction in pummeling a comrade who +backed away from friendly cuffs turned instantly to blows of malice. +Even now he had occasionally a desire to seek out Brauer again and +worry him further. He was fearing indifference. What if, after all +that he had suffered at the hands of others, he should find himself in +the pale clutch of an impotent indifference? He felt a certain shame +back of the possibility, and at such moments the words of Storch used +to ring in his ears: + +"Wounds heal so quickly ... so disgustingly quickly!" + +And again, watching Storch at night, touching the quivering cords +which might otherwise have rusted in inactive silence, he remembered +further the introduction to this contemptuous phrase: + +"I like to get my recruits when they're bleeding raw. I like them when +the salt of truth can sting deep..." + +How Storch lived Fred could only guess. But he managed always to +jingle a silver coin or two and keep a crust of bread in the house. +His fare was frugal to the point of being ascetic. Once or twice, as +if moved by Fred's physical weakness, he brought some scraps of beef +home and brewed a few cups of steaming bouillon, and again, one Sunday +morning he went out and bought a half dozen eggs which he converted +into an impossibly tough omelet. But for the most part he lived on +coffee and fresh French bread and cheese. It was on this incredible +fare that Fred Starratt won back his strength. His exhaustion was an +exhaustion of the spirit, and food seemed to have little part in +either his disorder or his recovery. + +Whatever Storch's specific grievance with life, he never voiced it and +in this he won Fred's admiration. He liked to jangle the discordant +passions of others, but his own he muffled into complete silence. He +had worked at almost every known calling. It seemed that he came and +disappeared always as suddenly and in his wake a furrow of men +harrowed to supreme unrest yielded up a harvest sown of dragon's +teeth. He was an idea made flesh, patient, relentless, almost +intangible. He flashed upon new horizons like a cloud from the south +and he vanished as completely once he had revived hatred with his +insinuating showers. He was, as he had said on that first meeting with +Fred, a fanatic, a high priest. He called many, but he chose few. + +One night after the others had left Fred said to him: + +"Do you realize what you are doing? ... You are working up these men +to a frenzy. Some morning we shall wake to find murder done." + +"How quickly you are learning," Storch answered, flinging his coat +aside. + +"Are you fair?" Fred went on, passionately. "If you have your +convictions, why not risk your own hide to prove them? Why make +cats'-paws of the others?" + +Storch took out his pipe and lighted it deliberately. "Prospective +martyrs are as plentiful as fish in a net," he answered. "Of what good +is the sea's yield without fishermen? ... I sacrifice myself and who +takes my place? Will you?" + +Fred turned on him suddenly. "You are not training me to be your +successor, I hope," he said, with a slight sneer. "Because I lie here +without protest is no reason that I approve. Indeed, I wonder +sometimes if I do quite right to permit all this... There are +authorities, you know." + +Storch looked at him steadily. "The door is open, my friend." + +Fred gave a little gesture of resignation. + +"You know perfectly well that I'm not built to betray the man who +gives me shelter." + +"Oh, I'm not sheltering you for love!" + +"You have some purpose, of course. I understand that. But you're +wasting time." + +"Well, I'll risk it... I know well enough you're not a man easily won +to an abstract hatred... But a personal hatred very often serves as +good a turn... Everything is grist to my mill." + +"A personal hatred?" echoed Fred. + +Storch blew out the light. + +"You're duller than I thought," he called through the gloom. + +Fred turned his face away and tried to sleep. + +The next day he decided to crawl out of bed and begin to win back his +strength. He couldn't lie there forever sharing Storch's roof and +crust. But the effort left him exhausted and he was soon glad to fling +himself back upon the couch. + +Each succeeding day he felt a little stronger, until the time came +when he was able to drag himself to the open door and sit in the +sunshine. He had never thought much about sunshine in the old days. A +fine day had been something to be remarked, but scarcely hoarded. With +the steam radiator working, it had not mattered so much whether the +sun shone or not... He remembered the first time that a real sense of +the sun's beauty had struck him--on that morning which now seemed so +remote--when he had risen weakly from his cot at the detention +hospital and made ready for exile at Fairview. Less than a year ago! +How many things had assumed new values since then! Now, he could +exploit every sunbeam to its minutest warmth, he could wring +sustenance from a handful of crumbs, he knew what a cup of cold water +meant. He was on speaking terms with hunger, he had been comrade to +madness, he had looked upon sudden death, he was an outcast and, in a +sense, a criminal. He felt that he could almost say with Hilmer: + +"I know all the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact." + +All but murder--yet it had brushed close to him. Even now he could +evoke the choking rage that had engulfed him on that night of his +arrest when his defenseless cheek had reddened to the blow of +humiliation. This had been, however, a flash of passion. But once, +meeting a man who blocked his path in the first upper reaches of the +hills, beyond Fairview, he had felt the even more primitive itch of +self-preservation urging him to the ultimate crime. Would he end by +going a step farther and planning the destruction of life in cold +blood? + +It was curious how constant association with a sensational idea dulled +the edge of its novelty. The first time he had heard deliberate and +passionless murder all but plotted in Storch's huddled room he had +felt a quick heartbeat of instinctive protest. Had he been stronger at +that moment he would have leaped to his feet in opposition. But the +moment passed and when he heard the subject broached again he listened +curiously. Finally he ceased to feel the slightest tremor of revolt. +Was indifference always the first step toward surrender? + +Finally Fred grew strong enough to desert his couch at evening. Up to +this point he had been ignored by the nightly visitors, but now they +made a place for him in the circle about the sputtering lamp. It +seemed, also, that, with his active presence, the talk began to assume +general point and direction. Storch had been giving them plenty of +tether, but now he was beginning to pull up sharply, putting their +windy theories to the test. They were for clearing the ground, were +they? Well, so far so good. But generalities led nowhere. Why not +something specific? Wasn't the time ripe for action--thousands of men, +walking the streets, locked out because they dared to demand a decent +and even break? And this in the face of all the altruistic +rumble-bumble which war had evoked? He played this theme over and over +again, and finally one night with an almost casual air he said: + +"Take the shipyards, for instance ... forty-odd thousand men locked +out while the owners lay plans to shackle them further. Now is the +chance. Quit talking and get busy!" + +It ended in a list being made of the chief offenders--owners, +managers, irascible foremen. Fred Starratt listened like a man in a +dream. When Hilmer was named he found himself shivering. These people +were plotting murder now--cool, calm, passionless murder! There was +something fascinating in the very nonchalance of it. + +Storch's eyes glittered more and more savagely. He drew up plans, +arranged incredible details, delivered specific offenders into the +hands of certain of his henchmen. + +"You are responsible for this man, now," he used to fling at the +chosen one. "How or where or when does not interest me--but get him, +you understand, _get him_!" + +One night a member said, significantly: + +"Everybody's been picked but Hilmer... What's the matter, Storch, are +you saving that plum for yourself?" + +Storch rubbed his hands together, flashing a look at Fred. + +"No... There's an option on Hilmer!" he cried, gleefully. + +Fred tried to ignore the implication, but all night the suggestion +burned itself into his brain. So some one was to get Hilmer, after +all! Well, why not? Hilmer liked men with guts enough to fight--rabbit +drives were not to his taste... Among all the names brought up and +discussed at these sinister gatherings about Storch's round table +Hilmer's stood out as the ultimate prize. No one spoke a good word for +him and yet Fred had to admit that the revilings were flavored with a +certain grudging respect. He was an open and consistent tyrant, at any +rate. + +An option on Hilmer! What a trick Storch had for illuminating phrases! +... And his divinations were uncanny. Why should he assume that Hilmer +was in any way bound up in Fred Starratt's life? + +The next morning Fred decided to chance a walk in the open. He had a +vague wish to try his wings again, now that he had grown stronger. The +situation reminded him remotely of Fairview on those first days when +Monet and he had attempted to harden their muscles against the day of +escape. But this time he was struggling to free himself from a +personality, from an idea. He must leave Storch and his motley brood +as soon as possible; somehow the acid of their ruthless philosophy was +eating away the remnants of any inner beauty which had been left him. +At first he had been all revolt, but now there were swift moments in +which he asked himself what quarrel he could have with any blows +struck at authority. What had established order done for him? Acted as +a screen for villainy and inconstancy for the most part. + +He turned all this over in his mind as he slunk furtively along the +water front, trying vaguely to shape a plan of action. He felt himself +to be a very unusual and almost terrible figure, and yet no one paid +any heed to him. His beard had lost its sunburned character and grown +jet black, his face, and particularly his hands, were pale to +transparence, his eyes burned too brightly in their sunken sockets. He +was not even a ghost of his former self, but rather a sinister +reincarnation. He felt that he was even more forbidding than on that +night when he had sent Brauer shivering from his presence. He doubted +whether Brauer would recognize him again, so subtle and marked was the +change. He hardly recognized himself, and the transformation was not +solely a matter of physical degeneration. No, there was something +indefinable in the quality of his decline. + +He fluttered about the town, at first aimlessly, like a defenseless +fledgling thrust before its time from the nest. He was weak and +tremulous and utterly miserable. Yet he felt compelled to go forward. +He must escape from Storch! _He must_! + +The docks, usually full of bustle, were silent and almost deserted. +Fred questioned a man loafing upon a pile of lumber. It appeared that +a strike of stevedores was the cause of this outward sign of +inactivity. Boats were being loaded quietly, but the process was +furtive and sullen. Occasionally, out of the wide expanse of brooding +indolence a knot of men would gather flockwise, and melt as quickly. +There was an ominous quality in the swiftness with which these +cloudlike groups congealed and disintegrated. The sinister blight of +repression was over everything--repressed desires, repressed joys, +repressed hatreds. It was almost as sad as the noonday silence of +Fairview. + +Fred slunk along in deep dejection. He wanted the color and life and +bustle of accomplishment. A slight activity before one of the docks +beguiled him from his depression. A passenger steamer was preparing +for its appointed flight south and a knot of blue-coated policemen +maintained a safe path from curb to dock entrance. Here was a touch of +liveliness and gayety--the released laughter of people bent on a +holiday, hopeful farewells called out heartily, taxicabs dashing up +with exaggerated haste. He was warming himself at the flame of this +genial pageant, when an opulent machine came rolling up to the curb. A +sudden surge of arrivals had pressed into service every available +porter, and the alighting occupants, a man and a woman, stood waiting +for some one to help them with their luggage. Fred stared with +impersonal curiosity. Then, as instinctively, he fell back. The man +was Axel Hilmer and the woman was Helen Starratt! His shrinking +movement must have singled him out for attention, because a policeman +began to hustle him on, and the next instant he was conscious that +Hilmer was calling in his voice of assured authority: + +"Here, there, don't send that man away! I need some one to help me +with these grips. This lady has got to catch the boat!" + +The officer touched his hat respectfully and Fred felt himself gently +impelled toward Helen Starratt. He did not have time to protest nor +shape any plan of action. Instead, he answered Hilmer's imperious +pantomime by grasping a suitcase in one hand and a valise in the other +and staggering after them toward the waiting vessel. + +They had arrived not a moment too soon; already the steamer was +preparing to cast off. In the confusion which followed, Fred had very +little sense of what was happening. He knew that a porter had relieved +him of his burden and that Helen Starratt had pressed a silver coin +into his hand. There was a scramble up the gangplank, a warning +whistle, a chorus of farewell, and then silence... He had a +realization that he had all but fainted--he looked up to find Hilmer +at his side. + +"What's the matter?" Hilmer was asking, brusquely. "Are you sick?" + +He roused himself with a mighty effort. + +"Yes." + +"You look half starved, too... Why don't you go to work? Or are you +one of those damned strikers?" + +"No," he heard himself answer. "I'm just a man who's ... who's up +against it." + +Hilmer took out a card and scribbled on it. + +"Here, look up my superintendent at the yard to-morrow. He'll give you +a job. There's plenty of work for those who want it. But don't lose +that card ... otherwise they won't let you see him." + +Fred took the proffered pasteboard and as he did so his fingers closed +over Hilmer's mangled thumb. He could feel himself trembling from head +to foot... He waited until Hilmer was gone. Then he crawled slowly in +the direction of the street again. Midway he felt some force impelling +him to a backward glance. He turned about--a green smile betrayed +Storch's sinister presence; Fred felt him swing close and whisper, +triumphantly: + +"That was your wife, wasn't it?" + +"How do you know?" + +"Never mind. Answer me--it was your wife?" + +"Yes." + +"How much did she give you?" + +Fred looked down at the coin in his hand. + +"Fifty cents." + +"Fifty cents ... for carrying two grips a hundred yards... Well, she +must have money... And she's taking a little trip south--for her +health, I suppose!... I wonder when friend Hilmer will follow?" + +Fred tried to draw away, but Storch's insinuating clutch was too firm. + +"Let me go!" he half begged and half commanded. "What business is all +this of yours?... Who has told you all this about me?" + +Storch continued to hang upon Fred's arm. "You told me yourself." + +"I told you? When?" + +"You were delirious for a good week... Don't you suppose you babbled +then?" + +"How much do you know?" + +"Nearly everything, _Fred Starratt_! Nearly everything." + +"Even my name!" + +"Yes, even that." + +Fred stood still for a moment and he closed both his eyes. + +"Let's go home!" he said, hopelessly. + +He heard Storch's malevolent chuckle answering him. + +When they arrived at Storch's shack Fred was exhausted. He threw +himself at once upon the couch, drawing the tattered quilts over his +head, and thus he lay all night in a semistupor. He heard the nightly +gathering drift in, and there were times when its babble reached him +in vague faraway echoes. He sensed its departure, too, and the fact +that Storch was flinging himself upon the pile of rags which served as +his bed. His sleep was broken by a harried idea that he was attempting +to catch a steamer which forever eluded him, trotting aimlessly up and +down a gangplank which led nowhere, picking up a litter that spilled +continually from a suitcase in his hand. It was not a dreaming state, +but the projection of the main events of the preceding day distorted +by fancy. + +Toward morning he fell into a heavy sleep. He did not hear Storch +leave. He woke at intervals during the day and relapsed into delicious +dozes. It was evening when he finally roused himself. He rose. He felt +extraordinarily refreshed, stronger, in fact, than he had been for +weeks. Storch came in shortly after. He had his inevitable loaf of +crisp French bread and a slice of cheese and in his hip pocket he had +smuggled a pint bottle of thin red wine. + +Fred laid the table with the simple utensils that such a meal required +and the two sat down. Storch poured out two glasses of wine. + +"I have had great fun to-day!" Storch said, gulping his claret with a +flourish. "They're on my track again. You should have seen how easily +I gave them the slip! As a matter of fact there is nothing duller than +a detective. He usually has learned every formula laid down for the +conduct of criminals and if you don't run true to form he gets sore." + +"You mean you're being watched--shadowed?" + +"Just that." + +"What do you intend to do?" + +Storch shrugged. "Being arrested and jailed is losing its novelty. +I'll stick around awhile longer until a pet job or two is +accomplished... I'm particularly anxious to see Hilmer winged... +What's your plan?" + +"Plan?... I have no plan. I can't imagine what you're talking about. I +know one thing, though ... I'm going to leave this place at once." + +Storch smiled evilly. "Going to start plunging on that capital your +wife threw your way yesterday?... Well, well, you've got more +initiative than I thought... But, one piece of advice, my friend--the +easiest way to walk into a trap is to suddenly try to change your +habits ... to rush headlong in an opposite direction. You'd better +stay here awhile and bluff it out. They'd gobble you in one mouthful." + +Fred made no reply. Indeed, the meal was finished in silence. + +Presently Storch's disciples began to drift in. The meeting lasted +almost until midnight. They were all at fever heat, strung tensely by +Storch's unerring pressure. At the last moment the man who had +previously put the question concerning Hilmer prodded Storch again. + +Storch fixed Fred suddenly with a gaze that pierced him through. A +silence fell upon the room. Fred could feel every eye turned his way. +He rose with a curious fluttering movement of escape. + +"There's one man in this room who has earned the honor of getting +Hilmer, if any man has," Storch said, finally, in an extraordinarily +cool and biting voice. "Losing a wife isn't of any great moment ... +but to be laughed at--that's another matter." + +The silence continued. Fred Starratt sat down again... Shortly after +this the gathering broke up. Storch went to sleep immediately. Fred +blew out the light. But he did not throw himself upon his couch this +time. Instead he opened the door softly and crept out. + +A bright moon was riding high in the sky. He went swiftly down the +lane and stood for a moment upon the edge of the cliff which plunged +down toward the docks. The city seemed like a frozen bit of +loveliness, waiting to be melted to fluid beauty by the fires of +morning. He must leave Storch at once, forever! He turned for a +backward glimpse of the house that had sheltered and almost entrapped +him. A figure darted in front of the lone street lamp and retreated +instantly. _Shadowed!_ Storch was right! + +Suddenly Fred began to whistle--gayly, loudly, with unquestionable +defiance. Then slowly, very slowly, he went back into the house and +closed the door... Storch was snoring contentedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The next afternoon Fred Starratt took the fifty-cent piece that he had +earned as flunky to his wife and spent every penny of it in a cheap +barber shop on the Embarcadero. He emerged with an indifferently +trimmed beard and his hair clipped into a semblance of neatness. He +felt better, in spite of his tattered suit and gaping footgear. +Hilmer's card was still in his pocket. + +His plans were hazy, nebulous, in fact. He was not quite sure as to +his next move. It seemed useless to attempt to flee from Storch's +shelter. He had no money and scarcely strength enough to tackle any +job that would be open to him. Even if he elected to become a strike +breaker he would have to qualify at least with brawn. The prospect of +snaring a berth from Hilmer had a certain fascination. It would be +interesting to stare defiantly at his enemy at close range, to speak +with him again man to man, to lure him into further bravados. And +then, if Storch's plans for Hilmer had any merits... He stopped short, +a bit frightened at the realization that the idea had presented itself +to him with such directness... He had a sudden yearning to talk to +some human being who would understand. If he could only see Ginger! + +He had a feeling that somehow she must have experienced every +exaltation and every degradation in the calendar. Tenderness and +passion and the gift of murder itself were ever the mixed language of +the street. He remembered the gesture he first had made to her almost +timid advances toward helping him. He had been outwardly polite, but +inwardly how scornful of her suggestions! And once he even had +hesitated to let her carry a message to his wife! Now he was ready to +stand or fall upon the bitter fruits of her experience. He felt, +curiously, on common ground with her. And yet there were certain +intangibilities he had never attempted to make positive. Somehow the +mere fact of her existence had enveloped him like warm currents of air +which he could feel, but not visualize. But at this moment he felt the +need of a contact more personal. Suddenly, out of a clear sky, it came +to him that Mrs. Hilmer could tell him something of Ginger's +whereabouts. Mrs. Hilmer? Well, why not? The more he thought the idea +over the more it appealed to him. He ended by turning his steps in the +direction of the Hilmer home. + +The maid who opened the door eyed him with more curiosity than +caution, and her protests that Mrs. Hilmer could see no one seemed +rather tentative and perfunctory. Fred had a curious feeling that she +was demanding a more or less conventional excuse for admitting him, +and in the end he flung out as a chance: + +"Tell Mrs. Hilmer I have a message from Sylvia Molineaux." + +The girl's pale-blue eyes sparkled with a curious glint of humor, and +without further protest she went away, and came back as swiftly with +an invitation for him to step inside. There was something +inexplainable about this maid who veiled her eagerness to admit him +with such transparencies. Even a fool would scarcely have left so +forbidding a character to dawdle about the living room while she went +to fetch her mistress. + +He had expected to find this room changed, and yet he was not prepared +for quite the quality of familiarity which it possessed. Most of the +old Hilmer knickknacks had been swept aside, their places taken by +bits that had once enlivened the Starratt household. Here was a silver +vase that he had bought Helen for an anniversary present, and there a +Whistler etching that had been their wedding portion. His easy-chair +was in a corner, and Helen's music rack filled with all the things she +used to play for his delight. And on the mantel, in a silver frame, +his picture, with a little bowl of fading flowers before it... He went +over and picked it up. Instinctively he glanced in the mirror just in +front of him... _Dead ... quite dead!_ No wonder his wife put flowers +before this photographic shrine... For a moment he had a swooning hope +that he had misjudged her ... that he had misread everybody ... that +they had done everything for him that they thought was best. But he +emerged from this brief deception with a shuddering laugh... He would +not have cared so much if his wife had swept him from her life +completely ... but to trample on him and still use his shadow as a +screen--this was too much! What really pallid creatures these women of +convention were! How little they were prepared to risk anything! He +could almost hear the comments that Helen inspired: + +"Poor Helen Starratt! She has had an awful time!... I don't know what +she would have done without the Hilmers... She's so devoted to Mrs. +Hilmer... I do think it's lovely that they can be together." + +He felt that he could have admired a Helen Starratt with the courage +of her primitive instincts. As it was, he was ashamed to own that he +experienced even rancor at her pretenses. + +He heard the sound of a wheeled chair coming toward the living room +and he made a pretense of staring aimlessly into the street. Presently +a sepulchral voice broke the silence. He turned--Mrs. Hilmer was +leaning forward in her chair, regarding him attentively, while the +maid stood a little to one side. He had expected to come upon a huddle +of blond plumpness, an inanimate mass of forceless flesh robbed of its +bovine suavity by inactivity. What he saw was a body thin to +emaciation and a face drawn into a tight-lipped discontent. The old +curves of flesh had melted, displaying the heaviness of the framework +which had supported them. The eyes were restless and glittering, the +once-plump hands shrunken into claws. + +"You ... you have a message from Sylvia Molineaux?" + +She tossed the question toward him with biting directness. Could it be +possible that this was the same woman who had purred so contentedly +over a receipt for corn pudding somewhat over a year ago? + +He moved a step nearer. "Yes ... but it is private." + +The maid made a slight grimace and put her hand protectingly upon Mrs. +Hilmer's chair. Mrs. Hilmer shifted about impatiently. + +"Never mind, Hilda," she snapped out. "I am not afraid." + +The maid shrugged and departed. + +"I have wanted to see her," Mrs. Hilmer went on, coldly. "But who +could I send? ... Few people understand her life." + +"Ah, then you have guessed?" + +"Guessed? ... She has told me everything." + +A shade of bitter malice crept into her face--the malice of a woman +who has learned truths and is no longer shocked by them. Fred Starratt +put his hat aside and he went up close to her. + +"I lied to get in here," he said, quickly. "I am looking for Sylvia +Molineaux myself." + +"Why don't you try the streets, then?" she flung out, venomously. + +He felt almost as if an insult had been hurled at _him_. He searched +Mrs. Hilmer's face. Something more than physical pain had harrowed the +woman before him to such deliberate mockery. + +"You, too!" he cried. "How you must have suffered!" + +She gave a little cackling laugh that made him shudder. "What about +yourself?" she queried. "You do not look like a happy man." + +"Would you be ... if ... Look at me closely, Mrs. Hilmer! Have you +ever seen me before?" + +He bent toward her. She took his face between her two clawlike +fingers. Her eyes were points of greedy flame. + +When she finally spoke her voice had almost a pensive quality to it. + +"You might have been Fred Starratt, _once_," she said, evenly. + +He rose to his feet. + +"I knew you were not dead," he heard her saying. "And I don't think +she felt sure, either... Ah, how I have worried her since that day! +Every morning I used to say: 'I dreamed of your husband last night. He +was swimming out of a black pool ... a very black pool.'" + +She chuckled at the memory of her sinister banter. So Helen Starratt +did not have everything her own way! There were weapons which even +weakness could flourish. + +"Where has she gone?" he asked, suddenly. + +"South, for a change... I've worried her sick with my black pool. +Whenever the doorbell would ring I would say as sweetly as I could, +'What if that should be your husband?' I drove her out with just +that... You've come just the right time to help. It couldn't have been +planned any better." + +She might have been Storch, masquerading in skirts, as she sat there +casting significantly narrow glances at him. He wondered why he had +come. He felt like a fly struggling from the moist depths of a cream +jug only to be thrust continually back by a ruthless force. Was +everybody bent on plunging him into the ultimate despair? He moved +back with a poignant gesture of escape. + +"You mustn't count on me, Mrs. Hilmer!" he cried, desperately. "I'm +nothing but a poor, spent man. I've lost the capacity for revenge." + +She smiled maliciously. "You see me here--helpless. And yet, in all +these months I've prayed for only one thing--to have strength enough +one day to rise in this chair and throw myself upon them both... Oh, +but I should like to kill them!... You talk about suffering ... but do +you know what it is to feel the caress of hands that are waiting to +lay hold of everything that was once yours?... I have six months more +to live. The doctor told me yesterday... Six months more, getting +weaker every day, until at last--" + +She brought her hands up in a vigorous flourish, which died pitifully. +He felt a contempt for his impotence. He dropped into a seat opposite +her. + + +"Tell me about it ... all ... from the beginning," he begged. + +She opened the floodgates cautiously at first ... going back to the +day when it had come upon her that she was a stranger in her own +house. ... Hilmer's moral lapses had never affronted her. She knew +men--or her father, to be exact, and his father before him. They were +as God made them, no better and no worse. Perhaps she had never +admitted it, but she would no doubt have felt a contempt for a man +without the capacity for truant inconstancies. But she had her place +from which it was inconceivable that she could be dislodged. ... On +that day when she had realized that this position was threatened she +had been put to one of two alternatives--open revolt or deceitful +acceptance. She had chosen the latter. In the end her choice was +justified, for she had begun to undermine Helen Starratt's content +with subtle purring which dripped a steady pool of disquiet. + +"She hasn't abandoned herself yet," she said, moving her claws +restlessly. "She's too clever for that... She wants _my_ place. +Hilmer's like all men--he won't have a mistress for a wife... And she +never would be any man's mistress while she saw a chance for the other +thing ... she's too--" + +She broke off suddenly, unable to find a word inclusive enough for all +the contempt she wished to crowd into it. He was learning things. She +could have ignored a frank courtesan with disdainful aloofness, but +discreetly veiled wantonness made her articulate. When she mentioned +Ginger her voice took a soft pity, mixed with certain condescension. +She was sympathetic, but there were still many things she could not +understand. + +"She used to come and pass me every morning," Mrs. Hilmer explained, +"and your wife would look at her from head to foot. One day I said, +'Who is that woman?' ... 'How should I know?' she answered me. And I +knew from her manner that she was lying. The next day I spoke +deliberately. After that it was easy... She is a strange girl. She +would come and read me such beautiful things and then go away to +_that_! ... 'How is it possible for one woman to be so good and so +bad?' I asked her once. And all she said was, 'How would you have +us--all devil or all saint?' ... During all this your wife said +nothing. When she _would_ see Sylvia Molineaux coming down the street +she would wheel my chair into a quiet corner and walk calmly into the +house... One day Sylvia Molineaux spoke of you. She told me the whole +story and in the end she said: 'I don't come here altogether to be +kind to you ... I come here to worry her. You cannot imagine how I +hate her!' The next morning I said to Helen Starratt, 'Did you know +that Sylvia Molineaux was a friend of your husband?' She had to answer +me civilly. There was no other way out. But after that I said, +whenever I could, 'Sylvia Molineaux tells me this,' or, 'Sylvia +Molineaux tells me that.' And I would give her the tattle of +Fairview... I know she could have strangled me, because she smiled too +sweetly. But she made no protest, no comment. She merely walked into +the house whenever Sylvia Molineaux appeared. But it worried her--yes, +almost as much as that black pool from which I had you swimming every +morning... And so it went on until the day after word had come that +you had been drowned. I had not seen Sylvia for some days. She came +down the street at the usual time. Helen was still up in her room ... +the maid had wheeled me out. She said nothing about what had happened. +But she looked very pale as she opened her book to read to me. In the +midst of all this your wife came out and stood for a moment upon the +landing. We looked up. She was in black. I gave one glance at Sylvia. +She closed her book with a bang and suddenly she was on her feet. +'Black! _Black_!' she cried out in a loud voice. 'How _can_ you!' Your +wife grew pale and walked quickly back into the house. Sylvia's face +was dreadful. 'I can't trust myself to come here again!' she said, +turning on me fiercely. 'Fancy, _she_ can wear black. The hussy ... +the...' No, I shall not repeat what else she said... But when she had +finished I caught her hand and I said: 'Come back and kill her! Come +back and kill her, Sylvia Molineaux!' She gave a cry and left me. I +have not seen her since." + +He sat staring at the wasted figure before him. Who would have +thought, seeing her in a happier day, that she could quiver with such +red-fanged energy! After all, she was more primitive even than Ginger. +She was like some limpid, prattling stream swollen to sudden fury by a +cloudburst of bitterness. + +He was recalled from his scrutiny of the terrible figure before him by +the sound of her voice, this time dropping into a monologue which held +a half-musing quality. Hilmer was puzzling her a bit. She could not +quite understand why a man accustomed to hew his way without restraint +should be possessing his soul in such patience before Helen Starratt's +provocative advances and discreet retreats. Either she was unable or +unwilling to fathom the fascination which a subtle game sometimes held +for a man schooled only in elemental approaches toward his goal. Was +he enthralled or confused or merely curious? And how long would he +continue to give his sufferance scope? How long would he pretend to +play the moth to Helen Starratt's fitful flamings? Mrs. Hilmer, +raising the question, answered it tentatively by a statement that held +a curious mixture of hope and fear. + +"Hilmer's going south himself next week... On business, he _says_." +She laughed harshly. "I wonder if they both think me quite a fool! ... +If he succeeds this time she's done for!" + +Fred Starratt stirred in his seat. + +"Don't deceive yourself," he found himself saying, coldly; "whatever +else my wife is, she's no fool... Remember, she wrote me a letter +every week. She looks over her cards before she plays them...A few +months more or less don't--" + +He broke off, suddenly amazed at his cruelty. Mrs. Hilmer's expression +changed from arrested exultation to fretful appeal. + +"I have only six months to live," she wailed. "If I could walk just +for a day...an hour...five minutes!" + +She covered her face in her hands. + +"What do you expect _me_ to do?" he asked, helplessly, with a certain +air of resignation. + +She took her fingers from her eyes. A crafty smile illumined her +features. "How should I know? ...What do men do in such cases?...She +will be gone two weeks. I pray God she may never enter this house +again. But that is in your hands." + +He felt suddenly cold all over, as if she had delivered an enemy into +his keeping. She still loved Axel Hilmer...loved him to the point of +hatred. What she wished for was his head upon a charger. With other +backgrounds and other circumstances crowding her to fury she would +have danced for her boon like the daughter of Herodias. As it was, she +sat like some pagan goddess, full of sinister silences, impotent, yet +unconquered. + +And again Storch's prophetic words swept him: + +"Like a field broken to the plow!" + +There was a terrible beauty in the phrase. Was sorrow the only +plowshare that turned the quiescent soul to bountiful harvest? Was it +better to reap a whirlwind than to see a shallow yield of unbroken +content wither to its sterile end? + + * * * * * + +He found Ginger's lodgings that night, in a questionable quarter of +the town, but she did not respond to his knock upon the door. + +"Why don't you try the streets, then?" Mrs. Hilmer's sneer recurred +with all its covert bitterness. + +The suggestion made him sick. And he had fancied all along that +ugliness had lost the power to move him ... that he was prepared for +the harsh facts of existence! + +He waited an hour upon the street corner, and when she came along +finally she was in the company of a man... He grew suddenly cold all +over. When they passed him he could almost hear his teeth chattering. +They disappeared, swallowed up in the sinister light of a beguiling +doorway. He stared for a moment stupidly, then turned and fled, +looking neither to the right nor to the left. He realized now that he +had reached the heights of bitterest ecstasy and the depths of +profound humiliation. + +Storch was alone, bending close to the lamp, reading, when Fred +Starratt broke in upon him. He did not lift his head. + +Fred went softly into a corner and sat down... Finally, after a while, +Storch laid his book aside. He gave one searching look at Fred's face. + +"Well, have you decided?" he asked, with calm directness. + +Fred's hands gave a flourish of resignation. "Yes... I'll do it!" he +answered in a whisper. + +Storch picked up his book again and went on reading. Presently he +lifted his eyes from the printed page as he said: + +"We won't have any more meetings here... Things are getting a little +too dangerous... How soon will the job be finished?" + +Fred rose, shaking himself. "Within two weeks, if it is finished at +all!" + +He went close to Storch and put a hand upon his shoulder. "You know +every bitter thing ... tell me, why does a man love?" + +Storch laughed unpleasantly. "To breed hatred!" + +Fred Starratt sat down again with a gesture of despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +From this moment on Fred Starratt's existence had the elements of a +sleepwalking dream. He felt himself going through motions which he was +powerless to direct. Already Storch and his associates were allowing +him a certain aloofness--letting him set himself apart with the +melancholy arrogance of one who had been chosen for a fanatical +sacrifice. + +Replying to Storch's question regarding his plans, he said, decidedly: + +"I leave all that to you... Give me instructions and I'll act. But I +want to know nothing until the end." + +"Within two weeks... Is there a special reason why ..." + +"Yes ... a very special reason." + +Storch turned away. But the next day he said, "Have you that card that +Hilmer gave you?" + +Fred yielded it up. + +Storch smiled his wide, green smile. Fred asked no questions, but he +guessed the plans. A spy was to be worked in upon Hilmer. + +Every morning now Fred Starratt found a silver dollar upon the +cluttered table at Storch's. He smiled grimly as he pocketed the +money. He was to have not a care in the world. Like a perfect youth of +the ancients marked for a sweet-scented offering to the gods, he was +to go his way in perfect freedom until his appointed time. There was +an element of grotesqueness in it all that dulled the edge of horror +which he should have felt. + +Sometimes he would sally forth in a noonday sun, intent on solitude, +but usually he craved life and bustle and the squalor of cluttered +foregrounds. With his daily dole of silver jingling in his pocket he +went from coffeehouse to coffeehouse or drowsed an hour or two in a +crowded square or stood with his foot upon the rail of some +emasculated saloon, listening to the malcontents muttering over their +draughts of watery beer. + +"Ah yes," he would hear these last grumble, "the rich can have their +grog... But the poor man--he can get it only when he is dying ... +providing he has the price." + +And here would follow the inevitable reply, sharpened by bitter +sarcasm: + +"But all this is for the poor man's good ... you understand. Men work +better when they do not indulge in follies... They will stop dancing +next. Girls in factories should not come to work all tired out on +Monday morning. They would find it much more restful to spend the time +upon their knees." + +It was not what they said, but the tone of it, that made Fred Starratt +shudder. Their laughter was the terrible laughter of sober men without +either the wit or circumstance to escape into a temperate gayety of +spirit. He still sat apart, as he had done at Fairview and again at +Storch's gatherings. He had not been crushed sufficiently, even yet, +to mingle either harsh mirth or scalding tears with theirs. But he was +feeling a passion for ugliness ... he wanted to drain the bitter +circumstance of life to the lees. He was seeking to harden himself to +his task past all hope of reconsideration. + +He liked especially to talk to the cripples of industry. Here was a +man who had been blinded by a hot iron bolt flung wide of its mark, +and another with his hand gnawed clean by some gangrenous product of +flesh made raw by the vibrations of a riveting machine. And there were +the men deafened by the incessant pounding of boiler shops, and one +poor, silly, lone creature whose teeth had been slowly eaten away by +the excessive sugar floating in the air of a candy factory. Somehow +this last man was the most pathetic of all. In the final analysis, his +calling seemed so trivial, and he a sacrifice upon the altar of a +petty vanity. Once he met a man weakened into consumption by the +deadly heat of a bakeshop. These men did not whine, but they exhibited +their distortions with the malicious pride of beggars. They demanded +sympathy, and somehow their insistence had a humiliating quality. He +used to wonder, in rare moments of reflection, how long it would take +for all this foul seepage to undermine the foundations of life. Or +would it merely corrode everything it came in contact with, very much +as it had corroded him? Only occasionally did he have an impulse to +escape from the terrible estate to which his rancor had called him. At +such intervals he would turn his feet toward the old quarter of the +town and stand before the garden that had once smiled upon his +mother's wooing, seeking to warm himself once again in the sunlight of +traditions. The fence, that had screened the garden from the nipping +wind which swept in every afternoon from the bay, was rotting to a +sure decline, disclosing great gaps, and the magnolia tree struggling +bravely against odds to its appointed blossoming. But it was growing +blackened and distorted. Some day, he thought, it would wither +utterly... He always turned away from this familiar scene with the +profound melancholy springing from the realization that the past was a +pale corpse lighted by the tapers of feeble memory. + +One afternoon, accomplishing again this vain pilgrimage, he found the +tree snapped to an untimely end. It had gone down ingloriously in a +twisting gale that had swept the garden the night before. + +In answer to his question, the man intent on clearing away the +wreckage said: + +"The wind just caught it right... It was dying, anyway." + +Fred Starratt retraced his steps. It was as if the old tree had stood +as a symbol of his own life. + +He never went back to view the old garden again, but, instead, he +stood at midnight upon the corner past which Ginger walked with such +monotonous and terrible fidelity. He would stand off in the shadows +and see her go by, sometimes alone, but more often in obscene company. +And in those moments he tasted the concentrated bitterness of life. +Was this really a malicious jest or a test of his endurance? To what +black purpose had belated love sprung up in his heart for this woman +of the streets? And to think that once he had fancied that so +withering a passion was as much a matter of good form as of cosmic +urging! There had been conventions in love--and styles and seasons! +One loved purity and youth and freshness. Yes, it had been as easy as +that for him. Just as it had been as easy for him to choose a nice and +pallid calling for expressing his work-day joy. He could have +understood a feeling of sinister passion for Sylvia Molineaux and +likewise he could have indulged it. But the snare was more subtle and +cruel than that. He was fated to feel the awe and mystery and beauty +of a rose-white love which he saw hourly trampled in the grime of the +streets. He had fancied once that love was a matter of give and take +... he knew now that it was essentially an outpouring ... that to love +was sufficient to itself ... that it could be without reward, or wage, +or even hope. He knew now that it could spring up without sowing, +endure without rain, come to its blossoming in utter darkness. And yet +he did not have the courage of these revelations. He felt their +beauty, but it was the beauty of nakedness, and he had no skill to +weave a philosophy with which to clothe them. If it had been possible +a year ago for him to have admitted so cruel a love he knew what he +would have done. He would have waited for her upon this selfsame +street corner and shot her down, turning the weapon upon himself. Yes, +he would have been full of just such empty heroics. Thus would he have +expressed his contempt and scorn of the circumstance which had tricked +him. But now he was beyond so conventional a settlement. + +The huddled meetings about Storch's shattered lamp were no more, but +in small groups the scattered malcontents exchanged whispered +confidences in any gathering place they chanced upon. Fred Starratt +listened to the furtive reports of their activities with morbid +interest. But he had to confess that, so far, they were proving empty +windbags. The promised reign of terror seemed still a long way off. +There were moments even when he would speculate whether or not he was +being tricked into unsupported crime. But he raised the question +merely out of curiosity... Word seemed to have been passed that he was +disdainful of all plans for setting the trap which he was to spring. +But one day, coming upon a group unawares in a Greek coffeehouse on +Folsom Street, he caught a whispered reference to Hilmer. Upon the +marble-topped table was spread a newspaper--Hilmer's picture smiled +insolently from the printed page. The gathering broke up in quick +confusion on finding him a silent auditor. When they were gone he +reached for the newspaper. A record-breaking launching was to be +achieved at Hilmer's shipyard within the week. The article ended with +a boastful fling from Hilmer to the effect that his plant was running +to full capacity in spite of strikes and lockouts. Fred threw the +paper to the floor. A chill enveloped him. He had caught only the +merest fragments of conversation which had fallen from the lips of the +group he had surprised, but his intuitions had been sharpened by +months of misfortune. He knew at once what date had been set for the +consummation of Storch's sinister plot. He rose to his feet, shivering +until his teeth chattered. He felt like a man invested with all the +horrid solemnity of the death watch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +That night Storch confirmed Fred's intuitions. He said, pausing a +moment over gulping his inevitable bread and cheese: + +"I have planned everything for Saturday." + +Fred cut himself a slice of bread. "So I understand," he said, coldly. + +"Who told you?" + +"Your companions are great gossips ... and I have ears." + +The insolence in Fred's tone made Storch knit his brows. + +"Well, knowing so much, you must be ready for details now," he flung +out. + +Fred nodded. + +Storch lighted his pipe and glowered. "The launching is to take place +at noon. Hilmer has planned to arrive at the yards promptly at eleven +forty-five at the north gate. Everything is ready, down to the last +detail." + +"Including the bomb?" Fred snapped, suddenly. + +"Including the bomb," Storch repeated, malevolently, caressing the +phrase with a note of rare affection. "It is the most skillful +arrangement I have seen in a long time ... in a kodak case. By the way +... are you accurate at heaving things?... You are to stand upon the +roof of a row of one-story stores quite near the entrance and promptly +at the precise minute--" + +"Ah, a time bomb!" + +"Naturally." + +"And if Hilmer should be late?" + +"He is always on time... And, besides, there is a special reason. He +wants the launching accomplished on the stroke of noon." + +"And if he comes too early?" + +"Impossible. He went south last week ... you knew that, of course. And +he doesn't get into San Francisco until late that morning. He is to be +met at Third and Townsend streets and go at once to Oakland in his +machine... There will be four in the party ... perhaps six." + +Fred Starratt stood up slowly, repressing a desire to leap suddenly to +his feet. He walked up and down the cluttered room twice. Storch +watched him narrowly. + +"Six in the party?" Fred echoed. "Any women?" + +Storch rubbed his palms together. "There may be two ... providing your +wife comes back with him... Mrs. Hilmer sent for her." + +"Mrs. Hilmer!" + +Storch smiled his usual broad smile, exhibiting his green teeth. + +"She developed a whim to attend the launching... Naturally she wished +her _dearest_ friend with her." + +Fred Starratt sat down. He was trembling inwardly, but he knew +instinctively that he must appear nonchalant and calm. He guessed at +once that it would not do for him to betray the fact that suddenly he +realized how completely he had been snared. Yet his trepidation must +have communicated itself, for Storch leaned forward with the +diabolical air of an inquisitor and said: + +"Does it matter in the least whether there is one victim or six?" + +Fred managed to reply, coolly, "Not the slightest ... but I have been +thinking in terms of one." + +Storch smiled evilly. "That would have been absurd in any case. There +are always a score or so of bystanders who ..." + +"Yes, of course, of course. Just so!" Fred interrupted. + +Storch laid his pipe aside and drained a half-filled glass of red wine +standing beside his plate. + +"I think I've turned a very neat trick," he said, smacking his lips in +satisfaction. "It's almost like a Greek tragedy--Hilmer, his wife, and +yours in one fell swoop, and at your hand. There is an artistic unity +about this affair that has been lacking in some of my other triumphs." + +Fred rose again, and this time he turned squarely on Storch as he +asked: + +"How long have you and Mrs. Hilmer been plotting this together?" + +Storch's eyes widened in surprise. "You're getting keener every +moment... Well, you've asked a fair question. I planted that maid in +the house soon after I knew the story." + +"After the fever set me to prattling?" + +"Precisely." + +Fred Starratt stood motionless for a moment, but presently he began to +laugh. + +Storch looked annoyed, then rather puzzled. Fred took the hint and +fell silent. For the first time since his escape from Fairview he was +experiencing the joy of alert and sharpened senses. He had ceased to +drift. From this moment on he would be struggling. And a scarcely +repressed joy rose within him. + +That night Fred Starratt did not sleep. His mind was too clear, his +senses too alert. He was like a man coming suddenly out of a mist into +the blinding sunshine of some valley sheltered from the sea. + +"Does it matter in the least whether there is one victim or six?" + +He repeated Storch's question over and over again. Yes, it did +matter--why, he could not have said. But even in a vague way there had +been a certain point in winging Hilmer. Hilmer had grown to be more +and more an impersonal effigy upon which one could spew forth malice +and be forever at peace. He had fancied, too, that Hilmer was his +enemy. Yet, Hilmer had done nothing more than harry him. It was Storch +who had captured him completely. + +It was not that Storch was unable to discover a score of men ready and +willing to murder Hilmer, but he was finding an ironic diversion in +shoving a weary soul to the brink. He liked to confirm his faith in +the power of sorrow and misery and bitterness ... he liked to triumph +over that healing curse of indifference which time accomplished with +such subtlety. He took a delight in cutting the heart and soul out of +his victims and reducing them to puppets stuffed with sawdust, +answering the slightest pressure of his hands. How completely Fred +Starratt understood all this now! And in the blinding flash of this +realization he saw also the hidden spring that had answered Storch's +pressure. Storch may have been prodding for rancor, but he really had +touched the mainspring of all false and empty achievement--vanity. + +"Losing a wife isn't of such moment ... but to be laughed at--that is +another matter!" + +The words with which Storch had held him up to the scorn of the crowd +swept him now with their real significance. He had been afraid to seem +uncourageous. + +Thus also had Mrs. Hilmer prodded him with her sly "What do men do in +such cases?" + +Thus, also, had the terrible realization of his love for Sylvia +Molineaux been turned to false account with a wish to still the +stinging wounds of pride forever. + +He had made just such empty gestures when he had battled for an +increase in salary, using Hilmer's weapons instead of his own, and +again when he had committed himself to Fairview with such a theatrical +flourish. He had performed then, he was performing now, with an eye to +his audience. And his audience had done then, and was doing now, what +it always did--treated him with the scorn men feel for any and all who +play down to them. + +Already Storch was sneering with the contempt of a man too sure of his +power. He would not have risked the details of his plan otherwise. And +deep down Fred Starratt knew that the first duty to his soul was to be +rid of Storch at any cost--after that, perhaps, it would not matter +whether he had one or six or a hundred victims marked for destruction. +He was afraid of Storch and he had now to prove his courage to +himself. + +It was at the blackest hour before dawn that this realization grew to +full stature. He raised himself upon his elbow, listening to the heavy +breathing of Storch. He rose cautiously. Now was his chance. He would +escape while his conviction was still glistening with the freshness of +crystallization. Moving with a catlike tread toward the door, he put +his hand upon the knob. It turned noisily. He heard Storch leap to his +feet. He stood quite still until Storch came up to him. + +"Go back to bed ... where you belong!" Storch was commanding, coolly, +with a shade of menace in his voice. + +He shuffled back to his couch. He was no longer afraid of Storch, but +a certain craftiness suddenly possessed him. + +Presently he heard a key turn and he felt himself to be completely in +the hands of his jailer. Yet the locked door became at once the symbol +of both Storch's strength and weakness. Storch was determined to have +either his body or his soul. And, at that moment, Fred Starratt made +his choice. + +Next morning Storch was up early and bustling about with unusual +clatter. + +"Get up!" he cried, gayly, to Fred. "Do you realize this is Friday?... +There are a thousand details to attend to." + +Fred pretended to find Storch's manner infectious. He had never seen +anyone so eager, so thrilling with anticipation. + +"I've got to buy you a new outfit complete," Storch went on, filling +the coffeepot with water. "And you must be shaved and shorn and made +human-looking again. Rags are well enough to wrap discontent in ... +but one should have a different make-up for achievement... What was +the matter last night?" + +"Oh, a bit of panic, I guess," Fred returned, nonchalantly. "But I'm +all right this morning." + +Storch rubbed his hands in satisfaction, and he smiled continually. + +They went out shortly after nine o'clock and in San Francisco's embryo +ghetto at McAllister and Fillmore streets they bought a decent-looking +misfit suit and a pair of second-hand shoes, to say nothing of a +bargain in shirts. A visit to a neighboring barber followed. Storch +permitted Fred to enter the shop alone, but he stood upon the corner +and waited. + +When the barber finished, Fred was startled. Standing before the +mirror he gazed at his smooth-shaven cheek again and trembled. It was +like a resurrection. Even Storch was startled. Fred caught a +suggestion of doubt in the gaze his jailer threw at him. It was almost +as if Storch said: + +"You are not the man I thought you." + +After that Fred had a sense that Storch watched him more narrowly. +Impulses toward forcing the issue at once assailed Fred, but he was +too uncertain as to the outcome. He decided that the safest thing was +to wait until the very last moment, trying to prolong the issue until +it would be too late for Storch to lay other plans. + +They went back to the shack for a bite of lunch. After they had eaten, +Fred put on his new clothes. He felt now completely cut off from the +cankerous life which had been so deliberately eating its way into his +philosophy. Could it be possible that clothes did in some mysterious +way make the man? Would his unkempt beard and gaping shoes and +tattered clothing have kept him nearer the path of violence? + +A little after three o'clock in the afternoon a man came to the door +and handed Storch a carefully wrapped package. They did not exchange a +word. Storch took the package and stowed it away in a corner, covering +it with a ragged quilt. + +"That is the bomb!" flashed through Fred's mind. + +From that moment on this suggestive corner of the room was filled with +a mysterious fascination. It was like living on the edge of a volcano. + +Later in the day he said to Storch: + +"Are you sure the maker of that bomb was skillful?" + +Storch bared his green teeth. + +"One is sure of nothing!" he snapped back. + +Fred tried to appear nonchalant. "Aren't you rather bold, having this +thing delivered in broad daylight?" + +"What have we to fear?" + +"I thought we were being watched." + +Storch threw back his head and roared with laughter. "_You_ have been +watched ... if that's what you mean. I never believe in taking any +unnecessary chances." + +Fred made no reply. But a certain contempt for Storch that hitherto +had been lacking rose within him. He had always fancied certain +elements of bigness in this man in spite of his fanaticism. Suddenly +he was conscious that his silence had evoked a subtle uneasiness in +Storch. At this moment he laughed heartily himself as he rose from his +seat, slapping Storch violently on the back as he cried: + +"Upon my word, Storch, you're a master hand! No matter what happens +now, at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that I was +perfectly stage-managed." + +They kept close to the house until nearly midnight. At a few moments +to twelve Storch drew a flask of smuggled brandy from his hip pocket. + +"Here, take a good drink!" he said, passing the bottle to Fred. + +Fred did as he was bidden. Storch followed suit. + +"Would you like a turn in the open?" Storch inquired, not unkindly. + +"Yes," Fred assented. + +They put on their hats. When they were outside Storch made a little +gesture of surrender. "You lead ... I'll follow," he said, +indulgently. + +The night was breathless--still touched with the vagrant warmth of an +opulent April day. The spring of blossoming acacias was over, but an +even fuller harvest of seasonal unfolding was sweeping the town. A +fragrant east wind was flooding in from the blossom-starred valleys, +and vacant lots yielded up a scent of cool, green grass. A +soul-healing quality released itself from the heavily scented +air--hidden and mysterious beauties of both body and spirit that sent +little thrills through Fred Starratt. He had never been wrapped in a +more exquisite melancholy--not even during the rain-raked days at +Fairview. He knew that Storch was by his side, but, for the moment, +this sinister personality seemed to lose its power and he felt Monet +near him. It was as it had been during those days upon Storch's couch +with death beckoning--the nearer he approached the dead line, the more +distinctly he saw Monet. To-night his vision was clouded, but a keener +intuition gave him the sense of Monet's presence. He knew that he was +standing close to another brink. + +For a time he surrendered completely to this luxury of feeling, as if +it strengthened him to find stark reality threaded with so much +haunting beauty. But he discovered himself suddenly yearning for the +poetry of life rather than the poetry of death. He wanted to live, +realizing completely that to-morrow might seal everything. He was not +afraid, but he was alive, very much alive--so alive that he found +himself rising triumphant from sorrow and shame and disillusionment. + +He came out of his musings with a realization that Storch was +regarding him with that puzzled air which his moods were beginning to +evoke. And almost at the same time he was conscious that their feet +were planted upon that selfsame corner past which Ginger walked at +midnight. He put a hand on Storch's shoulder. + +"Let us wait here a few moments," he said. "I am feeling a little +tired." + +A newsboy bellowing the latest edition of the paper broke an unusual +and almost profound stillness. + +"There doesn't seem to be many people about to-night," Fred observed, +casually. + +Storch sneered. "To-day is Good Friday, I believe... Everyone has +grown suddenly pious." + +Fred turned his attention to the windows of a tawdry candy shop, +filled with unhealthy-looking chocolates and chromatic sweets. He was +wondering whether Ginger would pass again to-night. His musings were +answered by the suggestive pressure of Storch's hand on his. + +"There's a skirt on the Rialto, anyway," Storch was saying, with +disdain. + +Fred kept his gaze fixed upon the candy-shop window. He was afraid to +look up. Could it be that Ginger was passing before him, perhaps for +the last time? He caught the vague reflection of a feminine form in +the plate-glass window. A surge of relief swept him--at least she was +alone! + +"She's looking back!" Storch volunteered. + +Fred turned. The woman had gained the doorway of the place where she +lodged and she was standing with an air of inconsequence as if she had +nothing of any purpose on her mind except an appreciation of the +night's dark beauty. He looked at her steadily ... It _was_ Ginger! + +She continued to stand, immobile, wrapped in the sinister patience of +her calling. Fred could not take his eyes from her. + +"She's waiting for you," Storch said. + +Fred smiled wanly. + +"Do you want to go? ... If you do I'll wait--here!" + +Fred tried to conceal his conflicting emotions. He did not want to +betray his surprise at Storch's sudden and irrational indiscretion. + +"Well, if you don't mind," he began to flounder, "I'll--" + +Storch gave him a contemptuous shove. "Go on ... go on!" he cried, +almost impatiently, and the next moment Fred Starratt found himself at +Ginger's side... For an instant she stood transfixed as she lifted her +eyes to his. + +"Don't scream!" he commanded between his locked lips. "I don't want +that man to know that--" + +She released her breath sharply. "Shall we go in?" she whispered. + +He nodded. Storch was pretending to be otherwise absorbed, but Fred +knew that he had been intent on their pantomime. + +Her room was bare, pitifully bare, swept clean of all the tawdry +fripperies that one might expect from such an environment and +circumstance. She motioned him wearily to an uncompromising chair, +standing herself with an air of profound resignation as she leaned +against the cheaply varnished bureau. + +"Is this the first time--" she began, and stopped short. + +"No ... I've watched you every night for nearly two weeks." + +"What was the idea?" she threw out, with an air of banter. + +He stood up suddenly. "I wanted to see how much I _could_ stand," he +answered. + +She closed her eyes for a moment ... her immobility was full of +tremulous fear and hope. + +"Ah!" she said, finally. "So you did care, after all!" + +"Yes ... when it was too late." + +She crossed over to him, putting one wan finger on his trembling lips +in protest. She did not speak, but he read the thrilling simplicity of +her silence completely. "Love is never too late!" was what her +eloquent gesture implied. + +He thrust her forward at arm's length, searching her eyes. "You are +right," he said, slowly. "And yet it can be bitter!" + +She released herself gently. "You shouldn't have watched me like that +... it wasn't fair." + +"I didn't think you would ever know... And that first night I didn't +intend to watch ... not really. After that it got to be habit... +You've no idea the capacity for suffering an unhappy man can acquire." + +She took off her hat and flung it on the bed. "What made you follow me +to-night?" + +"You came out of a clear sky ... when I needed you most ... as you +have always done... I didn't think I could ever escape that man +waiting for me below--not even for an instant... To-morrow, at this +time, I may be dead ... or worse." + +"Dead?" + +"To-morrow, at noon, I'm scheduled to blow up Axel Hilmer... There +will be five others in the party ... my wife and his among them." + +Her body was rigid ... only her lips moved. "You are going to do it?" + +"No." + +She passed a fluttering hand over her forehead. "But you spoke of +death..." + +He smiled bitterly. "Either I shall be dead--or the man waiting for me +on the street corner... I shall not tell him my decision until the +last moment. I don't want to give him the chance to work in an +understudy or complete the job himself... Will you go to Hilmer +to-morrow and warn him?... He arrives from the south at the Third and +Townsend depot somewhere around eleven o'clock. Advise him to postpone +the launching. And have the approaches to the shipyards combed for +radicals... Let them watch particularly for a man with a kodak on the +roof of the stores opposite the north gate." + +She picked up her hat quickly. "I'll go out now and warn the police +... indirectly. I have ways, you know." + +He put out a restraining hand. "No ... that's risky. My friend Storch +has spies everywhere. He's giving me a little rope here ... he may be +waiting just to see how foolishly I use it. If you lie low until +to-morrow there will be less of a chance of things going wrong... +Besides, I owe this man something. He's fed and sheltered me. I'm +going to give him an even break. You would do that much, I'm sure." + +She threw her arms suddenly about him. "Let me go down to him," she +whispered. "Perhaps I can persuade him. Maybe he'll go away, then, and +leave you in peace." + +He stroked her hair. "No, I can't escape him now. Sooner or later he +would get me. You don't understand his power. All my life I've dodged +issues. But now I've run up against a stone wall. Either I scale it or +I break my neck in the attempt." + +She shivered as if his touch filled her with an exquisite fear as she +drew away. + +"I'm wondering if you are quite real," she said, wistfully. "Sometimes +I've thought of you as dead, and, again, it didn't seem possible... +Always at night upon the street I've really looked for you. In every +face that stared at me I had a hope that your eyes would answer +mine... I think I've looked for you all my life... It isn't always +necessity that drives a woman to the streets... Sometimes it is the +search for happiness... I suppose you can't understand that..." + +"I understand anything you tell me _now_!" + +She went over to him again and took his hand. "You _are_ real, aren't +you?... Because I couldn't bear it ... if I were to wake up and find +this all a dream... Nothing else matters ... nothing in my whole life +... but this moment. And when it is over nothing will ever matter ... +again." + +He sat there stroking her hand foolishly. There were no words with +which to answer her... Presently she put her lips close to his and he +kissed her, and he knew then that only a woman who had tasted the +bitter wormwood of infamy could put such purity into a kiss. How many +times she must have hungered for this moment! How many times must she +have felt her soul rising to her lips only to find it betrayed! + +He loved her for her words and he loved her for her silence. Once he +would have sat waiting passionately for her to defend herself. He +would have been tricked into believing that any course of action +_could_ be justified. But she brought no charges, she placed no blame, +she offered no excuse. "It isn't always necessity that drives a woman +to the streets!" It took a great soul to be that honest. She might +have reproached him, too, for his neglect of her--for his fear to take +his happiness on any terms. But all she had said was, "You shouldn't +have watched me like that ... it wasn't fair." + +He rose, finally, shaking himself into the world of reality again. + +"I must be going now," he said, quietly. "Storch will begin to be +impatient." + +She picked a gilt hairpin from the floor. "Let me see if I've got +everything straight. To-morrow at eleven o'clock I am to see Hilmer +and tell him to postpone the launching. And to watch at the north gate +for a man with a kodak... And then?" + +He reached for his hat. "If you do not hear from me you might come and +look me up. I'll be at Storch cottage on Rincon Hill ... at the foot +of Second Street. Anyone about can tell you which house is his." + +Her lips were an ashen gray. "You mean you'll be there ... _dead?_" + +"If you are afraid ..." + +"_Afraid!_" She drew herself up proudly. + +"Well ... there is danger for you, too... I should have thought of +that!" + +"You do not understand even now." She went and stood close to him. "I +_love_ you ... can't you realize that?" + +He felt suddenly abashed, as if he stood convicted of being a cup too +shallow to hold her outpouring. + +"Good-by," he whispered. + +She closed her eyes, lifting her brow for his waiting kiss. The heavy +perfume of her hair seemed to draw his soul to a prodigal outpouring. +He found her lips again, clasping her close. + +"Good-by," he heard her answer. + +And at that moment he felt the mysterious Presence that had swept so +close to him on that heartbreaking Christmas Eve at Fairview. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Storch was standing at the lodging-house door when Fred stepped into +the street. + +"Well, what now?" Storch inquired, with mock politeness. + +"Let's go home!" Fred returned, emphatically. + +Almost as soon as the phrase had escaped him he had a sense of its +grotesqueness. Home! Yes, he had to admit that he felt a certain +affection for that huddled room which had witnessed so much spiritual +travail. Somehow its dusty rafters seemed saturated with a human +quality, as if they had imprisoned all the perverse longings and +bitter griefs of the company that once sat in the dim lamplight and +chanted their litany of hate. He never really had been a part of this +company ... he never really had been a part of any company. At the +office of Ford, Wetherbee & Co., at Fairview, at Storch's gatherings, +he had mingled with his fellow-men amiably or tolerantly or +contemptuously, as the case might be, but never with sympathy or +understanding. He knew now the reason--he always had judged them, even +to the last moment, using the uncompromising foot rule of prejudice, +inherent or acquired. In the old days he had thought of these +prejudices as standards, mistaking aversions for principles. He had +tricked his loves, his hates, his preferences in a masquerade of +pretenses ... he had labels for everybody and he pigeonholed them with +the utmost promptitude. A man was a murderer or a saint or a +bricklayer, and he was nothing else. But at this moment, standing in +the light-flooded entrance to Ginger's lodgings, waiting for Storch to +lead him back to his figurative cell, he knew that a man could be a +murderer and a saint and a bricklayer and a thousand other things +besides. And if he were to sit again about that round table of +violence and despair he felt that, while he might find much to stir +hatred, he would never again give scope to contempt. + +"You want to go home, eh?" Storch was repeating, almost with a note of +obscene mirth. "Well, our walk has been quieting, at all events." + +Fred Starratt said nothing. He was not in a mood for talk. But when +they were inside the house again, with the cracked lamp shade spilling +a tempered light about the room, he turned to Storch and said, +quietly: + +"I sha'n't go to sleep to-night, Storch... You throw yourself on the +couch; I've kept you from it long enough." + +Storch made a movement toward the door. + +"Don't bother to lock it ... I'm not going to run away. I'm not quite +a fool! I know that if I did try anything like that I wouldn't get +farther than the edge of the cliff." + +Storch gave him a puzzled glance. Fred could see that he was +uncertain, baffled... But in the end he turned away from the unlocked +door with a shrug. + +Fred Starratt smiled with inner satisfaction. He was glad that he had +come back to give Storch that "even break." It was something of an +achievement to have compelled Storch's faith in so slight a thing as a +literal honesty. + +But Storch didn't take the couch. He threw his coat aside and crept +into his wretched pile of quilts on the floor, as he said: + +"You may want to snatch forty winks or so before the night is over." + +There was a warm note in his voice, a bit of truant fatherliness that +added an element of grotesqueness to the situation. He might have used +the same words and tone to a son about to take the highroad to fortune +on the morrow. Or to a lad determined to start upon a sunrise fishing +trip, and impatient of the first flush of dawn. After all, it took +great simplicity to approach the calamitous moments of life through +the channels of the commonplace. + +Presently Storch was snoring with the zest which he always brought to +sleep. The night air had chilled the room past the point of comfort +and the lamp seemed to make little headway with its thin volume of +ascending warmth. Fred wrapped himself in a blanket and sat half +shivering in the gloom. At first, detached and unrelated thoughts ran +through his brain, but gradually his musing assumed a coherence. +To-morrow, at this time, he might be either a hunted murderer or a +victim himself of Storch's desperation. In any case, he would be +furnishing the text for many a newspaper sermon. How eagerly they +would trace his downfall, sniffing out the salacious bits for the +furtive enjoyment of the chemically pure! For there would be salacious +bits. Had he not spent the preceding night in the company of a fallen +woman? One by one the facts would be brought out, added to and +subtracted from, until the whole affair was a triumph of the transient +story-teller art, unrelieved by the remotest flash of understanding. +They would interview his former employers first. Mr. Ford would say: + +"A steady, conscientious, faithful employee until he became bitten +with parlor radicalism." + +And Brauer, rather frightened, yet garrulous, would add, for want of +anything better: + +"An honest partner until he began hitting the booze." + +There would be his wife, too. "I did all I could. Stood by him to the +last ... even when I discovered that there was another woman." + +The authorities at Fairview would doubtless add their note to the +general chorus: + +"An exceptional patient. He seemed to have planned deliberately to get +our confidence and then betray it... He was directly responsible for +Felix Monet's death. Without his influence Monet would never have +thought of escape." + +And in summing up, the police would declare: + +"A bad actor from the word go. One of the sort who reach a certain +point in respectability and then run amuck. A danger to the community +because of his brains." + +But what of Hilmer? Fred Starratt had a feeling that Hilmer would be +discreet to a point of silence. + +He could see every printed phrase as plainly as if he were reading it +all himself. How many times in the old days had he not perused some +such story over his morning coffee, thanking himself unconsciously +that he was not as other men! How perfectly and smugly he had played +the Pharisee for his own delight and satisfaction! He had not bothered +then to cry his virtues aloud in the market place or to thank God +publicly for his salvation. No, he was too self-sufficient to take the +trouble to advertise his worthiness. + +To-night he was on the brink of disaster, and yet he found himself +shuddering at the colorless fate to which his complacence might have +condemned him. To have gone on forever in a state of drowsy +contentment ... to have been surrounded on all sides by the thunderous +cataracts of life and caught only the pretty significance of rainbows +through the spray ... to have remained untouched by any and every +primitive impulse and feeling--he could not now imagine anything more +tragic. And yet, to-morrow, people would hold up the desirability of +his former estate, pointing to him in warning for the soft-armed +profit of an oncoming generation. He saw himself as he might have +been, going on to the end of time in the service of Ford, Wetherbee & +Co., rising from map clerk to counter man, to special agent, perhaps +even to a managership, writing sharp or conciliatory letters to agents +according to their importance, trimming office expense and shaving +salaries, heckling green office boys, and, his workday ended, going +home to _The Literary Digest_ and Helen, fresh from the triumphs of +the golf links or the card table. Yes, no doubt Helen would have +matched his own rise in fortune with equal gentility. Perhaps he might +have taken an hour between office closing and dinner to wield a golf +club himself ... bringing back a desirable guest to dinner or +proposing through the telephone to Helen that they dine at the Palace +or St. Francis... Yes, even at best his imagination could not do more +with the material in hand. Indeed, he knew that he had crowded the +very most that was possible on so small a canvas. + +This, then, had been his unconscious life plan, his unvoiced fate. +Thus had he sketched it hazily, as a teller of tales sketches the plot +of a story, such and such a sum being the total of all the characters +and circumstances. But as he had gone on developing it, suddenly a new +character had appeared to change the final figures--a wrench thrown +into the wheel of continuity ... a wrench that bore the name of Axel +Hilmer... He felt no bitterness now for the man. Had he ever felt it? + +Axel Hilmer had long ceased to be a living personality to Fred +Starratt. Instead, he had taken on almost the significance of a +strange divinity ... an eternal questioner. At their very first +meeting he had started the ferment in Fred Starratt's soul with the +directness of his interrogations. He was not a man who declared his +own faiths ... he merely asked you to prove yours. The questions he +had asked Fred Starratt on that first night had been insignificant in +themselves. Why was it ridiculous for a butcher to want an eight-hour +day? Why should one have the firm's interest at heart? And yet the +sparks from such verbal flint stones had kindled a revolt that had +wrecked Fred Starratt's complacence. + +One's sight becomes strengthened to destructive ideas by gradual +perception. And ideas of any kind are destructive flashed on +consciousness unawares. Fred had thought at first that Hilmer had but +opened his eyes to things standing in his range of vision, when, as a +matter of fact, Hilmer had merely loaned him his spectacles. +Everything he had seen from that first moment had been through +Hilmer's medium. A wise man would have proceeded slowly, building +himself up for the struggle. But Fred Starratt had had all the wistful +enthusiasm of a fool seeking to achieve power overnight. Yes, only a +fool could have been ashamed of his heritage. And when Hilmer had +placed him calmly in the ranks of the middle class the wine of content +had turned suddenly sour. A year ago his efforts were being directed +at escape from so contemptuous a characterization; to-night he was +content to acknowledge the impeachment and find a pride in the +circumstance. And, as he sat there shivering in the gloom of Storch's +cracked lamp, he had a vision of this scorned company to which he +unquestionably belonged, sterile and barren in the glare of accepted +standards, broken gradually by the plowshare of disillusionment and +harrowed to great potentialities by a deeper sense of their faiths and +needs. Yes, he had a conviction that what could take place in one soul +could take place in the soul of the mass ... he had not changed his +standards so much as he had proved them. The shape and color and +perfume of love and loyalty and faith had not been altered for him, +but he could discover their blossoming among the shadowy places. + +At a black hour, before the first greenish glow was quickening the +east, he tiptoed and stood gazing down at Storch. He had never seen a +face more placid and untroubled. He felt that any man must have an +extraordinary sense of self-righteousness to yield so completely to +serenity in the face of deliberate crime. But Storch was of the stuff +of which all fanatics were made. Ends to him always justified means. +Of such were the Inquisitors of Spain, the Puritans of the +Reformation, the radicals of to-day. They had neither doubts nor fears +nor pity, and the helmets of their faith were a screen behind which +they hid their overweening egotism. They were ever seeking to entrap +humanity and humanity was forever in the end eluding them. And if +Hilmer were the eternal questioner made flesh, the gamekeeper beating +the furtive birds from the brush, this man Storch was the eternal +hunter, at once patient and relentless for his quarry. + +And now the hunter slept with a smile on his lips. Of what could he be +dreaming? Was it possible to dream of smile-fashioning themes with +potential destruction within a stone's throw? In a corner of this +room, in a well-packed square case, reposed the force that, once set +in motion at the proper or miscalculated moment, could hurl both +Storch and Fred Starratt to eternity, and yet Storch slept +undisturbed. Well, was not the broader canvas of life full of just +such profound faith or profound indifference? Did not society itself +sleep with the repressed hatreds of the submerged waiting their +appointed season? And while new worlds flew flaming from the wheel of +creation, and old ones died in an eye's twinkling, did not the race +dream on contemptuous of the changes which lurked in the restless +heavens? Yes, the meanest coward in existence had his innate courage +and there was a note of bravery in life on any terms. + +Fred stood before Storch's sleeping form a long time, and all manner +of impulses stirred him. There was even a moment when it came to him +that he might fall upon his gaoler while he slept and achieve a swift +freedom. And every ignoble murder of legend or history beckoned him +with the hands of red expediency. He ended by going to the door and +opening it cautiously as he had done the night before. But this time +the operation was more skillful and no warning click disturbed the +slumberer. He crept out into the night, down the cliff's edge, looking +back for the betraying shadow of a hidden spy. But there seemed to be +nothing to block his freedom. A virginal moon was languishing upon the +western rim of hills...a solitary cock crew lustily...occasional +footfalls floated up from the paved streets below...a cart rumbled in +the gloom. All these noises of the night were extraordinarily +friendly...like the smothered murmurings of a youth escaping from the +chains of sleep in pleasant dreaming. + +A swarm of platitudes surging through his brain urged him to flight. +But in the end self-esteem gave him his final cue, and he knew in a +flash how futile would be any truce with cowardice. A locked door +would have justified escape, but in the face of an unlatched threshold +there was only one course conceivable. + +Fred Starratt went back and wrapped himself in his blanket. Toward +daylight Storch arose and filled a pot with coffee. But neither spoke +a word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +As Storch cleared away the primitive evidences of the morning meal and +stood before the sink letting a thin trickle of cold water wash clean +the cups he said: + +"If we get the ten-o'clock boat to Oakland we will be in plenty of +time." + +Starratt rolled a cigarette. "Ah, then you are going, too!" + +"Naturally," Storch replied, as he turned off the water. + +Fred began to dress himself carefully. Storch loaned him an +indifferent razor. The shaving process was slow but in the end it was +accomplished. Fred was amazed at the freshness of his appearance. Only +once before in his life had he deliberately sat up all night without +either the desire or determination to sleep, and that was on that +night which now seemed so remote when he had felt the first budding of +Helen's scorn. He recalled that he had been just as alert and +clear-minded on the following morning as he was now. And just as +uncertain as to what the future held in store. + +Storch also made a careful toilet--for him. He rummaged for a clean +flannel shirt, combed his reddish beard, dusted off his clumsy boots. +But they were ready much too soon, like a couple of children promptly +dressed for an excursion, impatiently awaiting the hour of departure. +Of the two, Storch evinced the more nervousness. He poked into nooks +and corners of the room upon all sorts of pretended orderliness. Fred +sat and eyed him calmly--smoking cigarette after cigarette. Finally, +Storch lifted the kodak case from its hiding place and set it on the +center table. Cautiously he pried loose the false top and peered into +its depths. There followed a tense moment during which he bent in a +close inspection over its fascinating depths. Presently Fred caught a +distinct ticking sound, and he knew that Storch had set in motion the +clock upon which depended the bomb's explosion at the appointed hour. +But withal he remained curiously unmoved. + +The cry of a belated newsboy floated through the open front door. +Storch went out and bought a paper, flinging a section of it at Fred. +A thickly headlined account of the launching at the Hilmer yards +occupied chief place on the first page of the local news section. +There was a picture of the hull that had been put through on schedule +time in spite of strikes and lockouts, and another one of Hilmer, and +a second photograph of a woman. Fred looked twice before he realized +that the face of his wife was staring up at him from the printed +sheet. Helen Starratt was to be the ship's sponsor and there was a +pretty and touching story in this connection. It had always been Mrs. +Hilmer's ambition to christen a seagoing giant, and she had been +chosen to act as godmother to a huge oil-tanker only a year before, +but a serious accident had laid her low. Now, though she was unable to +perform the rite herself, she had intrusted her part to her faithful +friend, Mrs. Starratt. It was to be done by proxy, as it were, with +Mrs. Hilmer carried to the grand stand, where she was to repeat the +mystic formula, giving the ship a name at the moment when Helen +Starratt brought the foaming bottle of champagne crashing against the +vessel's side. The whole article, even down to this obvious dash of +"sob stuff," was at once Hilmer's challenge to the strikers and his +appeal to the gallery. There was a certain irony in realizing that all +these carefully planned effects had been seized upon for Hilmer's own +undoing. He was working in the dark, very much as Fred Starratt had +worked during those heartbreaking months when he had battled for place +in the business world. Then Hilmer had held him in the palm of his +hand. Now the situation was reversed--he held Axel Hilmer's fate in +his own keeping, and it was his finger that would spin the wheel of +destiny. Any fool could demand an eye for an eye; so much for so much +was the cut-and-dried morality of the market place. It took a poet to +bestow a wage out of all proportion to the workday, to turn the cheek +of humility to the blows of arrogance, to commend the extravagant gift +of the magdalene. And it was the poetry of life, after all, which +counted. Fred Starratt knew that now. A year ago he had thought of +poetry as strings of high-sounding words which produced a pleasant +mental reaction, something abstract and exotic. He had never fancied +that poetry was a thing to be seen and understood and lived, and that +such common things as bread and wine and love and hatred were shot +through with the pure gold of mystery. Once, if he had been moved to +magnanimity it would have been through an impulse of weak and +bloodless sentimentality ... now he had risen to generosity on the +wings of a supreme indifference, a magnificent contempt for +unessentials, a full-blooded understanding. Not that he had achieved a +cold and pallid philosophy ... a system of lukewarm expediencies. He +could still be swept by gusts of feeling ... he could even risk his +life to preserve it. + +He turned the pages of the newspaper over mechanically, reading word +upon word which held not the slightest meaning. He felt Storch's eyes +upon him, drawn, no doubt, by a mixture of subtle doubts and vague +appraisals. His thoughts flew to Ginger. What was she doing at this +moment? Was there any chance of _her_ failure? For answer another +question shaped itself: Had she _ever_ failed? Yet, this time she was +beset with dangers. And in his imagination he saw her treading the +thin ice of destiny with the same glorified contempt which lured him +to the poetical depths of life... And again Monet was at his side... +vague, mysterious, impalpable, the essence of things unseen but hoped +for, the solved riddle made spirit, the vast patience of eternity +realized. And still Storch's restless eyes were fixed upon him. + +Presently he heard Storch's voice coming to his ears out of a friendly +dusk: + +"It's nine-thirty...I guess we had better be moving." + +He did not stir at first...he merely sat staring at Storch, very much +as a man waking suddenly and not yet alive to the precise details of +his environment. "Moving...where?" he finally inquired. + +Storch crumpled the newspaper in his hand viciously. "Come...you've +been dreaming!" he flung out. "That's dangerous!" + +Fred braced himself in his chair. "I'm not going," he said, quietly. +"I've changed my mind!" + +Storch's mouth widened, not in a smile this time, but in a vicious +snarl. He took out a cheap watch from his pocket, glanced at it, and +put it back. + +"It's just twenty-five minutes to ten," he said, quietly. "I'll give +you five more minutes." + +Fred put both his arms upon the cluttered table, leaning forward, as +he answered: + +"Nothing can alter my decision now, Storch... You should have known +better than to have counted on one of my sort...In the end, you see, +my standards _have_ shackled me." + +"Counted on your sort!" Storch laughed back, sarcastically. "Do you +suppose for one moment that I ever count on anyone?... I like a game +of chance ... that's why I chose you. I like to triumph in spite of a +poor hand ... and you have been in some ways the poorest deal I've +ever risked a play on. But if I'd gotten you I'd have chuckled to my +dying day ... even in spite of the fact that it would have shattered +all my theories. I catch my fish upon the lowest and highest tides ... +slack water never yields much." + +He was rising to his feet. His face was a placid mask, but his voice +dripped venom. Fred matched his movements with equal quiet. + +"Still you did have hopes for me," Fred threw at him in grim raillery. +"I may have been the poorest prospect, but I have been the most +uncertain also... You might just as well admit that." + +He saw Storch's eyes widen at the arrogance of this unexpected thrust. + +"Slack water is always uncertain," Storch replied, "unless you know +which turn in the tide is to follow." + +They stood gazing at each other for a fraction of time, which seemed +eternity. And in that swift and yet prolonged exchange of glances Fred +Starratt read Storch's purpose completely... + +There followed a moment of swift action in which Storch made a clipt +movement toward his hip pocket, and in a trice Fred Starratt felt +himself bear quickly down upon the shattered lamp, grasp it firmly in +his two hands, and bring it crashing against Storch's upflung +forehead. + +He was not conscious of seeing Storch crumple over, but he felt a thud +shake the cluttered room to its foundations... He went over quietly +and closed the open door. Then he put on his hat. Storch lay quite +still and an ugly red pool was already luring flies to a crimson +feast. The floor was covered with bits of shattered glass glistening +in the sun. + +Presently he opened the door again. A child had crept up to the +doorstep and sat prattling to her tattered doll. He stepped aside so +as not to disturb her, shut the door with a sharp bang, and walked +swiftly to the edge of the cliff. But this time he plunged down. He +looked back once. Not a soul followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +He was sitting on a pile of lumber when, an hour later, his thoughts +began to run in rational channels again. Before him lay a patch of +gray-green bay, flanked on either side by wharves upon which two +black-hulled lumber schooners were disgorging their resinous cargo. +The strike of the longshoremen was still in progress and the +Embarcadero as good as deserted. Armed guards paraded before the +entrance to the docks and only occasional idlers sunned themselves and +viewed the silent and furtive loading of restive craft straining at +their moorings. + +He began to wonder dimly whether he had left Storch dead or merely +stunned, and, granting either alternative, how definitely this +circumstance would halt the plot against Hilmer's life. It was +conceivable to him now that Storch might have provided against the +possibility of failure, given the role of assassin into the hands of +an understudy, to be exact. Suppose Ginger should fail in her warning? +Not that he doubted her, but there was a chance that she had been +hedged about with all manner of difficulties--perhaps even death. +Suddenly with an arresting irrelevance he thought of the child upon +Storch's doorstep, hugging her doll close, and as swiftly he +remembered the black kodak case upon the center table. He wondered if +the child were still sitting there ... Perhaps, by this time, a swarm +of children were tumbling about the weather-beaten steps. He asked a +passer-by the hour. Eleven-thirty! In fifteen more minutes, if the +ticking clock within that sinister case performed its function, +Storch's dwelling would be tumbling in upon his prostrate body. And, +in the face of this, children might be prattling before the threshold. +He must go back again! + +He jumped to his feet and began to run. In an instant a conflagration +of potential disasters leaped up from the spark of the immediate +danger. He flew along faster, colliding with irate pedestrians, +escaping the wheels of skimming automobiles ... Presently the familiar +cliff and the tawny path scaling it loomed ahead. He began to climb +upward, almost on all-fours, digging his finger nails into the yellow +clay in an instinctive effort to pull himself forward. Finally he +gained the top ... The street, somnolent with approaching noon, was +deserted--the child had disappeared. He recovered his whirling senses +and looked again. This time he saw that the door of the shack stood +open. He took a step forward. A figure loomed in the doorway. He +shaded his eyes from the sun's glare and narrowed his lids. It was a +woman! + +The unexpectedness of this presence overwhelmed him as completely as +if he had seen an apparition. For an instant he did not grasp its +significance. + +Then, in another moment, understanding began to flood in upon him. He +felt a great weakness ... but he managed to make a trumpet with his +hands, calling in a voice that sounded remote: + +"Come out! For God's sake, come out!" + +He saw the woman start back in a movement of quick confusion, and +heard himself call again, this time with muffled agony: + +"Ginger!" + +There was a tremendous roar ... he felt a shower of stones hitting him +sharply in the face ... He pressed forward ... sheets of flame were +leaping greedily toward the sky and a string of people poured out into +the sun-baked street. + +At midnight Fred Starratt, making his way from the outlying districts +toward the center of the town, came out of a mental turmoil that had +flung him about all day in a series of blind impulses. The air was +raucous with the shrill cry of newsboys announcing the details of the +morning's sensation. He knew how the journalistic tale would run +without bothering to glimpse the headlines. At this time it would be +made up for the most part of vague speculations as to who was the +prime mover of the enterprise. + +The moments following the disaster were now fathomless, but he fancied +that he had been outwardly cool, chilled into subconscious calculation +by the very violence of the shock ... The frenzy had come later when +he found himself aboard a ferryboat bound for Oakland. He could not +disentangle the mixed impulses which had sent him upon this irrational +errand, but he remembered now that a consuming desire to see Hilmer +had possessed him. Perhaps an itching for revenge again had sprung +into life, perhaps a fury to release a measure of his scorn and +contempt, perhaps a mere curiosity to glimpse once more this man whose +armor of arrogance remained unpierced ... Whatever the urge, it had +keyed him to a quivering determination. He had wondered what stupidity +possessed him to send Ginger in warning to a man like Hilmer. ... With +almost psychic power he had created for himself the scene at the depot +with Ginger pouring her tremulous message into contemptuous ears. For +it was certain that Hilmer had been contemptuous. ... Afterward, +standing before the north gate of Hilmer's shipyards, a man at his +side confirmed his intuitions between irritating puffs from a +blackened pipe: + +"Nobody can double-cross Hilmer ... and they'd better give up trying +... He said a launching at noon and it _was_ at noon, you can bet your +life on that! ... They say a woman tried to scare the old man this +morning ... He just laughed in her face and came on over." + +Almost as the man had finished speaking the crowd surged forward. And +in a twinkling Hilmer's machine had swept past, leaving Fred, +trembling from head to foot, staring stupidly into a cloud of dust ... +He had not even glimpsed the occupants! But his failure to achieve +whatever vague plan was buffeting him about drove him back to San +Francisco. His confused mind had worked with the rational capacity for +details which characterizes madness. He knew that Hilmer must wait for +the automobile ferry...that the regular passenger boat would reach the +other side at least a half hour in advance. + +He had been prepared this time for the appearance of Hilmer's car. It +came off the boat preceded by a thin line of automobiles, moving +slowly. ... For a moment he wondered how he would achieve his purpose, +and the next thing he knew he had leaped aboard the running board... +He remembered long after that his wife had given a cry, that Mrs. +Hilmer had stirred ever so slightly, that Hilmer's eyes had widened. +Then out of a tense moment of suppressed confusion he had heard his +wife's voice floating toward him as she said: + +"Ah, then you were not drowned, after all!" + +With amazing effrontery he threw open the door and pressed down the +emergency seat opposite her. + +"No... I swam out of that black pool!" + +A slight tremor ran through her. Mrs. Hilmer smiled. + +Recalling the scene, he remembered how outwardly commonplace were the +moments which followed. Even Hilmer had been surprised into +banalities. Fred Starratt might have parted with them but yesterday, +for any indications to the contrary, and for an instant he had found +all sense of tragedy swallowed up in amazement at the passive tenacity +of the conventions. + +But sitting there, facing this trio, each busy with his own swift +thought, it gradually dawned upon Fred Starratt that now they were +afraid of him. Like a captured and blinded Samson he was in a position +to bring the temple walls crashing down upon them all. _They_ might +elect to be silent, but what a voice _he_ could raise!... He had come +out of a chuckling silence to hear Hilmer saying between almost shut +teeth: + +"I suppose you'll be needing money now, Starratt... Railroad rates +have all been raised." + +He felt at that moment the same triumph as when Storch had turned the +key in its lock... Hilmer always did walk directly to his objective +... but there were times when subtleties had more power. He remembered +the quiet thrust of his own voice measuring his adversary's +expectancy: + +"A man in my situation needs nothing, Hilmer ... least of all +_money_!" + +He never forgot the look of contempt which Hilmer threw at him ... but +this time it had been a contempt for the unfathomable. Helen's face +was white; only Mrs. Hilmer had continued to smile ... a set, ghastly, +cruel smile of complete satisfaction. And, in the silence which +followed, it was Mrs. Hilmer's voice that brought them all back with a +start as she said: + +"Well, here we are ... home again!" + +It was the same voice that had broken in upon another tense situation +months before with: + +"What nice corn pudding this is, Mrs. Starratt...Would you mind +telling me how you made it?" + +Had they been moving in a circle since that fatal evening, Fred had +found himself wondering...or had he merely been dreaming? + +The scene which followed had been unforgetable--the chauffeur and +Hilmer lifting Mrs. Hilmer into her wheeled chair; Helen Starratt +coming forward considerately with a steamer rug for the invalid's +comfort; Fred, standing outside the pale of all this activity like a +dreamer constructing stage directions for the puppets of his +imagination. And out of the almost placid atmosphere of domestic +bustle the voice of Mrs. Hilmer again breaking the stillness, this +time with a cool and knifelike precision as she said, turning her +pale, icy eyes on Helen Starratt: + +"My dear, your nurse-girl days are over...We've had you a long time +and we can't be too selfish--now that your husband is back!" + +Could Fred ever wipe from his memory the startled look which had swept +Helen's face as she released her hold on the wheeled chair? Or the +diabolical content with which Mrs. Hilmer settled back as she went on +slowly, clearly, as if the steady drip of her words fascinated her: + +"You wouldn't want to stay here...this is no place for lovers...And, +besides, there isn't room for _two_!" + +Helen's hands had fallen inertly at her sides as she stood facing +Hilmer, as if waiting for his decision. But he had made no move, he +merely had returned her gaze in equal silence. At that moment Mrs. +Hilmer's clawlike fingers closed over her husband's mangled thumb with +a clutch of triumph and she had turned with a painful twist to dart +her venomous scorn at Helen. A fortnight ago the doctors had given +Mrs. Hilmer a scant six months of life. But now Fred Starratt knew +that she would live as long as her spirits had vengeance to feed upon. + +Thus had the door closed upon Hilmer and his crippled gaoler. Already +Helen Starratt had gained the street corner. Fred was seized with an +impulse to overtake her, but it had died as quickly. There was nothing +he could offer ... not even a lodging for the night. Instead he had +turned and walked briskly in an opposite direction. + + * * * * * + +As he drew nearer town the cries of the newsboys grew more insistent +... so insistent that Fred bought a paper. By this time they had +cleared away the charred wreckage of Storch's shack, discovering the +secret which its ruins had concealed. He found himself wondering how +soon they would link him with the still-born plot which had achieved +so much tragedy in spite of its miscarriage. Of Ginger there was +little trace. She had been caught up in a winding sheet of flame, a +chariot of fire which had swept clean her pitiful and outraged body... +Again he saw her face, wistful in the glare of that portentous noon, +framed by the outline of Storch's doorway, heard himself call her name +in agony, and woke to find only a memory answering him. And there came +to him a realization of the terrible beauty of that moment which had +released her spirit in white-heated transfiguration. + +A sudden pity for the living began to well up within him ... for +Hilmer in the relentless grip of the harpy who would tear at his +content with her scrawny fingers ... for Mrs. Hilmer, condemned to +feed to the end upon the bitter fruits of hatred ... for his wife, +drifting to a pallid fate made up of petty adjustments and +compromises. Yes ... he found himself pitying Helen Starratt most of +all. Because he had a feeling that she would go on to the end cloaking +her primitive impulses in a curious covering of self-deception. She +would never understand ... never! She would always be restless, +straining at the conventions, but unable or unwilling to pay the price +of full freedom. And her remaining days would be spent in a futile +pulling at the chains which her own cowardice had forged. She would +not even have the memory of bitter-sweet delights. + +He came from these musings to discover that his feet had strayed +instinctively to the old garden which provoked the memory of his +father and mother. But he found it destroyed utterly ... its prim beds +swept aside to make way for a huge apartment house. The last +intangible link which had bound him to his old life had been +destroyed. + +He turned away, almost with a feeling of relief--the past was forever +dead, burying itself in its own tragic oblivion. He climbed higher, to +the topmost point of the Hyde Street Hill, up the steps leading to the +reservoir. It was another night of provocative perfumes and promissory +warmths. He skirted the sun-baked slopes, sown with blossoming +alfalfa, and came upon a clump of wind-tortured acacia bushes facing +the west. He threw himself down and lay in a sweet physical truce, +gazing up at the twinkling sky. He was alone with the night, he had +not even a disciple to betray him. + +He knew that if he willed it so he could be up and off, forever +eluding, forever flaunting the law's ubiquitous presence. The sharp +urge for subtle revenge which had come with realization of his power +had passed, but he was done with any and all compromises, he had no +heart for the decaying fruits of deception. + +Would they find him here wrapped in the cool fragrance of the night, +or must he go down to them, yielding himself up silently and without +bitterness? He had touched life at every point. He could say, now, +with Hilmer: + +"I know all the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact!" + +Yes, even to murder. + +And with Storch he could repeat: + +"A man who's been through hell is like a field broken to the plow. +He's ready for seed." + +He _was_ ready for seed, so freshly and deeply broken that he had a +passion to lie fallow against a worthy sowing. + +Presently, enveloped in the perfect and childlike faith which follows +revelation, he slept, with his face turned toward the stars. And as he +stirred ever so slightly he felt the nearness of two souls. Clearly +and more clearly they defined themselves until he knew them for those +two erring companions of his misery who had been made suddenly perfect +in the crucible of sorrow and sacrifice. They came toward him in a +white, silent beauty, until on one side stood Felix Monet and on the +other Sylvia Molineaux. + +And before him in review passed a motley company of every tragic group +that he had ever known--business associates, jailbirds, the inmates of +Fairview, Storch's terrible companions. He recognized each group in +its turn by their outer trappings. But suddenly their clothes melted +and even their flesh dissolved, and he saw nothing but a company of +skeletons stripped of all unessentials, and he could no longer mark +them apart. And, in a flash, even these unmarked figures crumbled to +dust, spreading out like a sunlit plain at noonday. And he saw clouds +gather and rain fall and green blades spring up miraculously and +blossom succeed blossom. And through it all Felix Monet stood on one +side and Sylvia Molineaux on the other. + +He awoke to the vigorous prod of a contemptuous boot. A policeman +stood over him. + +"What are you doing here?" the officer bellowed down at him. + +He rose quickly. The sun was bathing the rejuvenated city in a flood +of wonderful gold. + +"My name is Fred Starratt," he said, quietly. "And I'm wanted for +murder ... and some other things. You'd better take me down." + +The policeman grasped his arm and together they made their way down to +the level stretches of the paved street. + +They stood for a moment to let a street car swing past. It was crowded +with clerks, standing on the running board. Above the warning clang of +the bell a voice came ringing out with a note of surprised +recognition: + +"Hello, Fred Starratt! What's new?" + +He made a trumpet with his hands. + +"Everything!" he cried back, loudly. "_Everything in the world_!" + + + + +THE END + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Broken to the Plow, by Charles Caldwell Dobie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROKEN TO THE PLOW *** + +***** This file should be named 13178.txt or 13178.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/1/7/13178/ + +Produced by Keith M. Eckrich and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreaders Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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