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diff --git a/old/rdcrg10.txt b/old/rdcrg10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4542115 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rdcrg10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8468 @@ + +Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red Cross Girl by +Richard Harding Davis +#11 in our series by Richard Harding Davis + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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THE RED CROSS GIRL + +2. THE GRAND CROSS OF THE CRESCENT + +3. THE INVASION OF ENGLAND + +4. BLOOD WILL TELL + +5. THE SAILORMAN + +6. THE MIND READER + +7. THE NAKED MAN + +8. THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF + +9. THE CARD-SHARP + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +R. H. D. + + "And they rise to their feet as he passes, gentlemen +unafraid." + +He was almost too good to be true. In addition, the gods +loved him, and so he had to die young. Some people think that +a man of fifty-two is middle-aged. But if R. H. D. had lived +to be a hundred, he would never have grown old. It is not +generally known that the name of his other brother was Peter +Pan. + +Within the year we have played at pirates together, at the +taking of sperm whales; and we have ransacked the Westchester +Hills for gunsites against the Mexican invasion. And we have +made lists of guns, and medicines, and tinned things, in case +we should ever happen to go elephant shooting in Africa. But +we weren't going to hurt the elephants. Once R. H. D. shot a +hippopotamus and he was always ashamed and sorry. I think he +never killed anything else. He wasn't that kind of a +sportsman. Of hunting, as of many other things, he has said +the last word. Do you remember the Happy Hunting Ground in +"The Bar Sinister"?--"Where nobody hunts us, and there is +nothing to hunt." + +Experienced persons tell us that a man-hunt is the most +exciting of all sports. R. H. D. hunted men in Cuba. He +hunted for wounded men who were out in front of the trenches +and still under fire, and found some of them and brought them +in. The Rough Riders didn't make him an honorary member of +their regiment just because he was charming and a faithful +friend, but largely because they were a lot of daredevils and +he was another. + +To hear him talk you wouldn't have thought that he had ever +done a brave thing in his life. He talked a great deal, and +he talked even better than he wrote (at his best he wrote +like an angel), but I have dusted every corner of my memory +and cannot recall any story of his in which he played a +heroic or successful part. Always he was running at top +speed, or hiding behind a tree, or lying face down in a foot +of water (for hours!) so as not to be seen. Always he was +getting the worst of it. But about the other fellows he told +the whole truth with lightning flashes of wit and character +building and admiration or contempt. Until the invention of +moving pictures the world had nothing in the least like his +talk. His eye had photographed, his mind had developed and +prepared the slides, his words sent the light through them, +and lo and behold, they were reproduced on the screen of your +own mind, exact in drawing and color. With the written word +or the spoken word he was the greatest recorder and reporter +of things that he had seen of any man, perhaps, that ever +lived. The history of the last thirty years, its manners and +customs and its leading events and inventions, cannot be +written truthfully without reference to the records which he +has left, to his special articles and to his letters. Read +over again the Queen's Jubilee, the Czar's Coronation, the +March of the Germans through Brussels, and see for yourself +if I speak too zealously, even for a friend, to whom, now +that R. H. D. is dead, the world can never be the same again. + +But I did not set out to estimate his genius. That matter +will come in due time before the unerring tribunal of +posterity. + +One secret of Mr. Roosevelt's hold upon those who come into +contact with him is his energy. Retaining enough for his own +use (he uses a good deal, because every day he does the work +of five or six men), he distributes the inexhaustible +remainder among those who most need it. Men go to him tired +and discouraged, he sends them away glad to be alive, still +gladder that he is alive, and ready to fight the devil +himself in a good cause. Upon his friends R. H. D. had the +same effect. And it was not only in proximity that he could +distribute energy, but from afar, by letter and cable. He had +some intuitive way of knowing just when you were slipping +into a slough of laziness and discouragement. And at such +times he either appeared suddenly upon the scene, or there +came a boy on a bicycle, with a yellow envelope and a book to +sign, or the postman in his buggy, or the telephone rang and +from the receiver there poured into you affection and +encouragement. + +But the great times, of course, were when he came in person, +and the temperature of the house, which a moment before had +been too hot or too cold, became just right, and a sense of +cheerfulness and well-being invaded the hearts of the master +and the mistress and of the servants in the house and in the +yard. And the older daughter ran to him, and the baby, who +had been fretting because nobody would give her a double- +barrelled shotgun, climbed upon his knee and forgot all about +the disappointments of this uncompromising world. + +He was touchingly sweet with children. I think he was a +little afraid of them. He was afraid perhaps that they +wouldn't find out how much he loved them. But when they +showed him that they trusted him, and, unsolicited, climbed +upon him and laid their cheeks against his, then the +loveliest expression came over his face, and you knew that +the great heart, which the other day ceased to beat, throbbed +with an exquisite bliss, akin to anguish. + +One of the happiest days I remember was when I and mine +received a telegram saying that he had a baby of his own. And +I thank God that little Miss Hope is too young to know what +an appalling loss she has suffered.... + +Perhaps he stayed to dine. Then perhaps the older daughter +was allowed to sit up an extra half-hour so that she could +wait on the table (and though I say it, that shouldn't, she +could do this beautifully, with dignity and without +giggling), and perhaps the dinner was good, or R. H. D. +thought it was, and in that event he must abandon his place +and storm the kitchen to tell the cook all about it. Perhaps +the gardener was taking life easy on the kitchen porch. He, +too, came in for praise. R. H. D. had never seen our Japanese +iris so beautiful; as for his, they wouldn't grow at all. It +wasn't the iris, it was the man behind the iris. And then +back he would come to us, with a wonderful story of his +adventures in the pantry on his way to the kitchen, and +leaving behind him a cook to whom there had been issued a new +lease of life, and a gardener who blushed and smiled in the +darkness under the Actinidia vines. + +It was in our little house at Aiken, in South Carolina, that +he was with us most and we learned to know him best, and that +he and I became dependent upon each other in many ways. + +Events, into which I shall not go, had made his life very +difficult and complicated. And he who had given so much +friendship to so many people needed a little friendship in +return, and perhaps, too, he needed for a time to live in a +house whose master and mistress loved each other, and where +there were children. Before he came that first year our house +had no name. Now it is called "Let's Pretend." + +Now the chimney in the living-room draws, but in those first +days of the built-over house it didn't. At least, it didn't +draw all the time, but we pretended that it did, and with +much pretense came faith. From the fireplace that smoked to +the serious things of life we extended our pretendings, until +real troubles went down before them--down and out. + +It was one of Aiken's very best winters, and the earliest +spring I ever lived anywhere. R. H. D. came shortly after +Christmas. The spireas were in bloom, and the monthly roses; +you could always find a sweet violet or two somewhere in the +yard; here and there splotches of deep pink against gray +cabin walls proved that precocious peach-trees were in bloom. +It never rained. At night it was cold enough for fires. In +the middle of the day it was hot. The wind never blew, and +every morning we had a four for tennis and every afternoon we +rode in the woods. And every night we sat in front of the +fire (that didn't smoke because of pretending) and talked +until the next morning. + +He was one of those rarely gifted men who find their chiefest +pleasure not in looking backward or forward, but in what is +going on at the moment. Weeks did not have to pass before it +was forced upon his knowledge that Tuesday, the fourteenth +(let us say), had been a good Tuesday. He knew it the moment +he waked at 7 A. M. and perceived the Tuesday sunshine making +patterns of bright light upon the floor. The sunshine +rejoiced him and the knowledge that even before breakfast +there was vouchsafed to him a whole hour of life. That day +began with attentions to his physical well-being. There were +exercises conducted with great vigor and rejoicing, followed +by a tub, artesian cold, and a loud and joyous singing of +ballads. + +At fifty R. H. D. might have posed to some Praxiteles and, +copied in marble, gone down the ages as "statue of a young +athlete." He stood six feet and over, straight as a Sioux +chief, a noble and leonine head carried by a splendid torso. +His skin was as fine and clean as a child's. He weighed +nearly two hundred pounds and had no fat on him. He was the +weight-throwing rather than the running type of athlete, but +so tenaciously had he clung to the suppleness of his +adolescent days that he could stand stiff-legged and lay his +hands flat upon the floor. + +The singing over, silence reigned. But if you had listened at +his door you must have heard a pen going, swiftly and boldly. +He was hard at work, doing unto others what others had done +unto him. You were a stranger to him; some magazine had +accepted a story that you had written and published it. +R. H. D. had found something to like and admire in that story +(very little perhaps), and it was his duty and pleasure to +tell you so. If he had liked the story very much he would +send you instead of a note a telegram. Or it might be that +you had drawn a picture, or, as a cub reporter, had shown +golden promise in a half column of unsigned print, R. H. D. +would find you out, and find time to praise you and help you. +So it was that when he emerged from his room at sharp eight +o'clock, he was wide-awake and happy and hungry, and whistled +and double-shuffled with his feet, out of excessive energy, +and carried in his hands a whole sheaf of notes and letters +and telegrams. + +Breakfast with him was not the usual American breakfast, a +sullen, dyspeptic gathering of persons who only the night +before had rejoiced in each other's society. With him it was +the time when the mind is, or ought to be, at its best, the +body at its freshest and hungriest. Discussions of the latest +plays and novels, the doings and undoings of statesmen, +laughter and sentiment--to him, at breakfast, these things +were as important as sausages and thick cream. + +Breakfast over, there was no dawdling and putting off of the +day's work (else how, at eleven sharp, could tennis be played +with a free conscience?). Loving, as he did, everything +connected with a newspaper, he would now pass by those on the +hall-table with never so much as a wistful glance, and hurry +to his workroom. + +He wrote sitting down. He wrote standing up. And, almost you +may say, he wrote walking up and down. Some people, +accustomed to the delicious ease and clarity of his style, +imagine that he wrote very easily. He did and he didn't. +Letters, easy, clear, to the point, and gorgeously human, +flowed from him without let or hindrance. That masterpiece of +corresponding, "The German March Through Brussels," was +probably written almost as fast as he could talk (next to +Phillips Brooks, he was the fastest talker I ever heard), but +when it came to fiction he had no facility at all. Perhaps I +should say that he held in contempt any facility that he may +have had. It was owing to his incomparable energy and Joblike +patience that he ever gave us any fiction at all. Every +phrase in his fiction was, of all the myriad phrases he could +think of, the fittest in his relentless judgment to survive. +Phrases, paragraphs, pages, whole stories even, were written +over and over again. He worked upon a principle of +elimination. If he wished to describe an automobile turning +in at a gate, he made first a long and elaborate description +from which there was omitted no detail, which the most +observant pair of eyes in Christendom had ever noted with +reference to just such a turning. Thereupon he would begin a +process of omitting one by one those details which he had +been at such pains to recall; and after each omission he +would ask himself: "Does the picture remain?" If it did not, +he restored the detail which he had just omitted, and +experimented with the sacrifice of some other, and so on, and +so on, until after Herculean labor there remained for the +reader one of those swiftly flashed, ice-clear pictures +(complete in every detail) with which his tales and romances +are so delightfully and continuously adorned. + +But it is quarter to eleven, and, this being a time of +holiday, R. H. D. emerges from his workroom happy to think +that he has placed one hundred and seven words between +himself and the wolf who hangs about every writer's door. He +isn't satisfied with those hundred and seven words. He never +was in the least satisfied with anything that he wrote, but +he has searched his mind and his conscience and he believes +that under the circumstances they are the very best that he +can do. Anyway, they can stand in their present order until-- +after lunch. + +A sign of his youth was the fact that to the day of his death +he had denied himself the luxury and slothfulness of habits. +I have never seen him smoke automatically as most men do. He +had too much respect for his own powers of enjoyment and for +the sensibilities, perhaps, of the best Havana tobacco. At a +time of his own deliberate choosing, often after many hours +of hankering and renunciation, he smoked his cigar. He smoked +it with delight, with a sense of being rewarded, and he used +all the smoke there was in it. + +He dearly loved the best food, the best champagne, and the +best Scotch whiskey. But these things were friends to him, +and not enemies. He had toward food and drink the Continental +attitude; namely, that quality is far more important than +quantity; and he got his exhilaration from the fact that he +was drinking champagne and not from the champagne. Perhaps I +shall do well to say that on questions of right and wrong he +had a will of iron. All his life he moved resolutely in +whichever direction his conscience pointed; and, although +that ever present and never obtrusive conscience of his made +mistakes of judgment now and then, as must all consciences, I +think it can never once have tricked him into any action that +was impure or unclean. Some critics maintain that the heroes +and heroines of his books are impossibly pure and innocent +young people. R. H. D. never called upon his characters for +any trait of virtue, or renunciation, or self-mastery of +which his own life could not furnish examples. + +Fortunately, he did not have for his friends the same +conscience that he had for himself. His great gift of +eyesight and observation failed him in his judgments upon his +friends. If only you loved him, you could get your biggest +failures of conduct somewhat more than forgiven, without any +trouble at all. And of your mole-hill virtues he made +splendid mountains. He only interfered with you when he was +afraid that you were going to hurt some one else whom he also +loved. Once I had a telegram from him which urged me for +heaven's sake not to forget that the next day was my wife's +birthday. Whether I had forgotten it or not is my own private +affair. And when I declared that I had read a story which I +liked very, very much and was going to write to the author to +tell him so, he always kept at me till the letter was +written. + +Have I said that he had no habits? Every day, when he was +away from her, he wrote a letter to his mother, and no swift +scrawl at that, for, no matter how crowded and eventful the +day, he wrote her the best letter that he could write. That +was the only habit he had. He was a slave to it. + +Once I saw R. H. D. greet his old mother after an absence. +They threw their arms about each other and rocked to and fro +for a long time. And it hadn't been a long absence at that. +No ocean had been between them; her heart had not been in her +mouth with the thought that he was under fire, or about to +become a victim of jungle fever. He had only been away upon a +little expedition, a mere matter of digging for buried +treasure. We had found the treasure, part of it a chipmunk's +skull and a broken arrow-head, and R. H. D. had been absent +from his mother for nearly two hours and a half. + +I set about this article with the knowledge that I must fail +to give more than a few hints of what he was like. There +isn't much more space at my command, and there were so many +sides to him that to touch upon them all would fill a volume. +There were the patriotism and the Americanism, as much a part +of him as the marrow of his bones, and from which sprang all +those brilliant headlong letters to the newspapers; those +trenchant assaults upon evil-doers in public office, those +quixotic efforts to redress wrongs, and those simple and +dexterous exposures of this and that, from an absolutely +unexpected point of view. He was a quickener of the public +conscience. That people are beginning to think tolerantly of +preparedness, that a nation which at one time looked yellow +as a dandelion is beginning to turn Red, White, and Blue is +owing in some measure to him. + +R. H. D. thought that war was unspeakably terrible. He +thought that peace at the price which our country has been +forced to pay for it was infinitely worse. And he was one of +those who have gradually taught this country to see the +matter in the same way. + +I must come to a close now, and I have hardly scratched the +surface of my subject. And that is a failure which I feel +keenly but which was inevitable. As R. H. D. himself used to +say of those deplorable "personal interviews" which appear in +the newspapers, and in which the important person interviewed +is made by the cub reporter to say things which he never +said, or thought, or dreamed of--"You can't expect a fifteen- +dollar-a-week brain to describe a thousand-dollar-a-week +brain." + +There is, however, one question which I should attempt to +answer. No two men are alike. In what one salient thing did +R. H. D. differ from other men--differ in his personal +character and in the character of his work? And that question +I can answer offhand, without taking thought, and be sure +that I am right. + +An analysis of his works, a study of that book which the +Recording Angel keeps will show one dominant characteristic +to which even his brilliancy, his clarity of style, his +excellent mechanism as a writer are subordinate; and to +which, as a man, even his sense of duty, his powers of +affection, of forgiveness, of loving-kindness are +subordinate, too; and that characteristic is cleanliness. + +The biggest force for cleanliness that was in the world has +gone out of the world--gone to that Happy Hunting Ground +where "Nobody hunts us and there is nothing to hunt." + GOUVERNEUR MORRIS. + + + +Chapter 1 + +THE RED CROSS GIRL + +When Spencer Flagg laid the foundation-stone for the new +million-dollar wing he was adding to the Flagg Home for +Convalescents, on the hills above Greenwich, the New York +REPUBLIC sent Sam Ward to cover the story, and with him +Redding to take photographs. It was a crisp, beautiful day in +October, full of sunshine and the joy of living, and from the +great lawn in front of the Home you could see half over +Connecticut and across the waters of the Sound to Oyster Bay. + +Upon Sam Ward, however, the beauties of Nature were wasted. +When, the night previous, he had been given the assignment he +had sulked, and he was still sulking. Only a year before he +had graduated into New York from a small up-state college and +a small up-state newspaper, but already he was a "star" man, +and Hewitt, the city editor, humored him. + +"What's the matter with the story?" asked the city editor. +"With the speeches and lists of names it ought to run to two +columns." + +"Suppose it does!" exclaimed Ward; "anybody can collect +type-written speeches and lists of names. That's a messenger +boy's job. Where's there any heart-interest in a Wall Street +broker like Flagg waving a silver trowel and singing, 'See +what a good boy am!' and a lot of grownup men in pinafores +saying, 'This stone is well and truly laid.' Where's the +story in that?" + +"When I was a reporter," declared the city editor, "I used to +be glad to get a day in the country." + +"Because you'd never lived in the country," returned Sam. "If +you'd wasted twenty-six years in the backwoods, as I did, +you'd know that every minute you spend outside of New York +you're robbing yourself." + +"Of what?" demanded the city editor. "There's nothing to New +York except cement, iron girders, noise, and zinc garbage +cans. You never see the sun in New York; you never see the +moon unless you stand in the middle of the street and bend +backward. We never see flowers in New York except on the +women's hats. We never see the women except in cages in the +elevators--they spend their lives shooting up and down +elevator shafts in department stores, in apartment houses, in +office buildings. And we never see children in New York +because the janitors won't let the women who live in +elevators have children! Don't talk to me! New York's a +Little Nemo nightmare. It's a joke. It's an insult!" + +"How curious!" said Sam. "Now I see why they took you off the +street and made you a city editor. I don't agree with +anything you say. Especially are you wrong about the women. +They ought to be caged in elevators, but they're not. +Instead, they flash past you in the street; they shine upon +you from boxes in the theatre; they frown at you from the +tops of buses; they smile at you from the cushions of a taxi, +across restaurant tables under red candle shades, when you +offer them a seat in the subway. They are the only thing in +New York that gives me any trouble." + +The city editor sighed. "How young you are!" he exclaimed. +"However, to-morrow you will be free from your only trouble. +There will be few women at the celebration, and they will be +interested only in convalescents--and you do not look like a +convalescent." + +Sam Ward sat at the outer edge of the crowd of overdressed +females and overfed men, and, with a sardonic smile, listened +to Flagg telling his assembled friends and sycophants how +glad he was they were there to see him give away a million +dollars. + +"Aren't you going to get his speech?", asked Redding, the +staff photographer. + +"Get HIS speech!" said Sam. "They have Pinkertons all over +the grounds to see that you don't escape with less than three +copies. I'm waiting to hear the ritual they always have, and +then I'm going to sprint for the first train back to the +centre of civilization." + +"There's going to be a fine lunch," said Redding, "and +reporters are expected. I asked the policeman if we were, and +he said we were." + +Sam rose, shook his trousers into place, stuck his stick +under his armpit and smoothed his yellow gloves. He was very +thoughtful of his clothes and always treated them with +courtesy. + +"You can have my share," he said. "I cannot forget that I am +fifty-five minutes from Broadway. And even if I were starving +I would rather have a club sandwich in New York than a +Thanksgiving turkey dinner in New Rochelle." + +He nodded and with eager, athletic strides started toward the +iron gates; but he did not reach the iron gates, for on the +instant trouble barred his way. Trouble came to him wearing +the blue cambric uniform of a nursing sister, with a red +cross on her arm, with a white collar turned down, white +cuffs turned back, and a tiny black velvet bonnet. A bow of +white lawn chucked her impudently under the chin. She had +hair like golden-rod and eyes as blue as flax, and a +complexion of such health and cleanliness and dewiness as +blooms only on trained nurses. + +She was so lovely that Redding swung his hooded camera at her +as swiftly as a cowboy could have covered her with his gun. + +Reporters become star reporters because they observe things +that other people miss and because they do not let it appear +that they have observed them. When the great man who is being +interviewed blurts out that which is indiscreet but most +important, the cub reporter says: "That's most interesting, +sir. I'll make a note of that." And so warns the great man +into silence. But the star reporter receives the indiscreet +utterance as though it bored him; and the great man does not +know he has blundered until he reads of it the next morning +under screaming headlines. + +Other men, on being suddenly confronted by Sister Anne, which +was the official title of the nursing sister, would have +fallen backward, or swooned, or gazed at her with soulful, +worshipping eyes; or, were they that sort of beast, would +have ogled her with impertinent approval. Now Sam, because he +was a star reporter, observed that the lady before him was +the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen; but no one +would have guessed that he observed that--least of all Sister +Anne. He stood in her way and lifted his hat, and even looked +into the eyes of blue as impersonally and as calmly as though +she were his great-aunt--as though his heart was not beating +so fast that it choked him. + +"I am from the REPUBLIC," he said. "Everybody is so busy here +to-day that I'm not able to get what I need about the Home. +It seems a pity," he added disappointedly, "because it's so +well done that people ought to know about it." He frowned at +the big hospital buildings. It was apparent that the +ignorance of the public concerning their excellence greatly +annoyed him. + +When again he looked at Sister Anne she was regarding him in +alarm--obviously she was upon the point of instant flight. + +"You are a reporter?" she said. + +Some people like to place themselves in the hands of a +reporter because they hope he will print their names in black +letters; a few others--only reporters know how few--would as +soon place themselves in the hands of a dentist. + +"A reporter from the REPUBLIC," repeated Sam. + +"But why ask ME?" demanded Sister Anne. + +Sam could see no reason for her question; in extenuation and +explanation he glanced at her uniform. + +"I thought you were at work here," he said simply. "I beg +your pardon." + +He stepped aside as though he meant to leave her. In giving +that impression he was distinctly dishonest. + +"There was no other reason," persisted Sister Anne. "I mean +for speaking to me?" + +The reason for speaking to her was so obvious that Sam +wondered whether this could be the height of innocence or the +most banal coquetry. The hostile look in the eyes of the lady +proved it could not be coquetry. + +"I am sorry," said Sam. "I mistook you for one of the nurses +here; and, as you didn't seem busy, I thought you might give +me some statistics about the Home not really statistics, you +know, but local color." + +Sister Anne returned his look with one as steady as his own. +Apparently she was weighing his statement. She seemed to +disbelieve it. Inwardly he was asking himself what could be +the dark secret in the past of this young woman that at the +mere approach of a reporter--even of such a nice-looking +reporter as himself--she should shake and shudder. "If that's +what you really want to know," said Sister Anne doubtfully," +I'll try and help you; but," she added, looking at him as one +who issues an ultimatum, "you must not say anything about +me!" + +Sam knew that a woman of the self-advertising, club- +organizing class will always say that to a reporter at the +time she gives him her card so that he can spell her name +correctly; but Sam recognized that this young woman meant it. +Besides, what was there that he could write about her? Much +as he might like to do so, he could not begin his story with: +"The Flagg Home for Convalescents is also the home of the +most beautiful of all living women." No copy editor would let +that get by him. So, as there was nothing to say that he +would be allowed to say, he promised to say nothing. Sister +Anne smiled; and it seemed to Sam that she smiled, not +because his promise had set her mind at ease, but because the +promise amused her. Sam wondered why. + +Sister Anne fell into step beside him and led him through the +wards of the hospital. He found that it existed for and +revolved entirely about one person. He found that a million +dollars and some acres of buildings, containing sun-rooms and +hundreds of rigid white beds, had been donated by Spencer +Flagg only to provide a background for Sister Anne--only to +exhibit the depth of her charity, the kindness of her heart, +the unselfishness of her nature. + +"Do you really scrub the floors?" he demanded--"I mean you +yourself--down on your knees, with a pail and water and +scrubbing brush?" + +Sister Anne raised her beautiful eyebrows and laughed at him. + +"We do that when we first come here," she said--"when we are +probationers. Is there a newer way of scrubbing floors?" + +"And these awful patients," demanded Sam--"do you wait on +them? Do you have to submit to their complaints and whinings +and ingratitude?" He glared at the unhappy convalescents as +though by that glance he would annihilate them. "It's not +fair!" exclaimed Sam. "It's ridiculous. I'd like to choke +them!" + +"That's not exactly the object of a home for convalescents," +said Sister Anne. + +"You know perfectly well what I mean," said Sam. "Here are +you--if you'll allow me to say so--a magnificent, splendid, +healthy young person, wearing out your young life over a lot +of lame ducks, failures, and cripples." + +"Nor is that quite the way we look at," said Sister Anne. + +"We?" demanded Sam. + +Sister Anne nodded toward a group of nurse + +"I'm not the only nurse here," she said "There are over +forty." + +"You are the only one here," said Sam, "who is not! That's +Just what I mean--I appreciate the work of a trained nurse; I +understand the ministering angel part of it; but you--I'm not +talking about anybody else; I'm talking about you--you are +too young! Somehow you are different; you are not meant to +wear yourself out fighting disease and sickness, measuring +beef broth and making beds." + +Sister Anne laughed with delight. + +"I beg your pardon," said Sam stiffly. + +"No--pardon me," said Sister Anne; "but your ideas of the +duties of a nurse are so quaint." + +"No matter what the duties are," declared Sam; "You should +not be here!" + +Sister Anne shrugged her shoulders; they were charming +shoulders--as delicate as the pinions of a bird. + +"One must live," said Sister Anne. + +They had passed through the last cold corridor, between the +last rows of rigid white cots, and had come out into the +sunshine. Below them stretched Connecticut, painted in autumn +colors. Sister Anne seated herself upon the marble railing of +the terrace and looked down upon the flashing waters of the +Sound. + +"Yes; that's it," she repeated softly--"one must live." + +Sam looked at her--but, finding that to do so made speech +difficult, looked hurriedly away. He admitted to himself that +it was one of those occasions, only too frequent with him, +when his indignant sympathy was heightened by the fact that +"the woman. was very fair." He conceded that. He was not +going to pretend to himself that he was not prejudiced by the +outrageous beauty of Sister Anne, by the assault upon his +feelings made by her uniform--made by the appeal of her +profession, the gentlest and most gracious of all +professions. He was honestly disturbed that this young girl +should devote her life to the service of selfish sick people. + +"If you do it because you must live, then it can easily be +arranged; for there are other ways of earning a living." + +The girl looked at him quickly, but he was quite sincere--and +again she smiled. + +"Now what would you suggest?" she asked. "You see," she said, +"I have no one to advise me--no man of my own age. I have no +brothers to go to. I have a father, but it was his idea that +I should come here; and so I doubt if he would approve of my +changing to any other work. Your own work must make you +acquainted with many women who earn their own living. Maybe +you could advise me?" + +Sam did not at once answer. He was calculating hastily how +far his salary would go toward supporting a wife. He was +trying to remember which of the men in the office were +married, and whether they were those whose salaries were +smaller than his own. Collins, one of the copy editors, he +knew, was very ill-paid; but Sam also knew that Collins was +married, because his wife used to wait for him in the office +to take her to the theatre, and often Sam had thought she was +extremely well dressed. Of course Sister Anne was so +beautiful that what she might wear would be a matter of +indifference; but then women did not always look at it that +way. Sam was so long considering offering Sister Anne a life +position that his silence had become significant; and to +cover his real thoughts he said hurriedly: + +"Take type-writing, for instance. That pays very well. The +hours are not difficult." + +"And manicuring?" suggested Sister Anne. + +Sam exclaimed in horror. + +"You!" he cried roughly. "For you! Quite impossible!" + +"Why for me?" said the girl. + +In the distress at the thought Sam was jabbing his stick into +the gravel walk as though driving the manicuring idea into a +deep grave. He did not see that the girl was smiling at him +mockingly. + +"You?" protested Sam. "You in a barber's shop washing men's +fingers who are not fit to wash the streets you walk on I +Good Lord!" His vehemence was quite honest. The girl ceased +smiling. Sam was still jabbing at the gravel walk, his +profile toward her--and, unobserved, she could study his +face. It was an attractive face strong, clever, almost +illegally good-looking. It explained why, as , he had +complained to the city editor, his chief trouble in New York +was with the women. With his eyes full of concern, Sam turned +to her abruptly. "How much do they give you a month?" "Forty +dollars," answered Sister Anne. "This is what hurts me about +it," said Sam. + +It is that you should have to work and wait on other people +when there are so many strong, hulking men who would count it +God's blessing to work for you, to wait on you, and give +their lives for you. However, probably you know that better +than I do." + +"No; I don't know that," said Sister Anne. + +Sam recognized that it was quite absurd that it should be so, +but this statement gave him a sense of great elation, a +delightful thrill of relief. There was every reason why the +girl should not confide in a complete stranger--even to +deceive him was quite within her rights; but, though Sam +appreciated this, he preferred to be deceived. + +"I think you are working too hard," he said, smiling happily. +"I think you ought to have a change. You ought to take a day +off! Do they ever give you a day off?" + +"Next Saturday," said Sister Anne. "Why?" + +"Because," explained Sam, "if you won't think it too +presumptuous, I was going to prescribe a day off for +you--a day entirely away from iodoform and white enamelled +cots. It is what you need, a day in the city and a lunch +where they have music; and a matinee, where you can laugh--or +cry, if you like that better--and then, maybe, some fresh air +in the park in a taxi; and after that dinner and more +theatre, and then I'll see you safe on the train for +Greenwich. Before you answer," he added hurriedly, "I want to +explain that I contemplate taking a day off myself and doing +all these things with you, and that if you want to bring any +of the other forty nurses along as a chaperon, I hope you +will. Only, honestly, I hope you won't!" + +The proposal apparently gave Sister Anne much pleasure. She +did not say so, but her eyes shone and when she looked at Sam +she was almost laughing with happiness. + +"I think that would be quite delightful," said Sister Anne," +--quite delightful! Only it would be frightfully expensive; +even if I don't bring another girl, which I certainly would +not, it would cost a great deal of money. I think we might +cut out the taxicab--and walk in the park and feed the +squirrels." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Sam in disappointment,--"then you know +Central Park?" + +Sister Anne's eyes grew quite expressionless. + +"I once lived near there," she said. + +"In Harlem?" + +"Not exactly in Harlem, but near it. I was quite young," said +Sister Anne. "Since then I have always lived in the country +or in--other places." + +Sam's heart was singing with pleasure. + +"It's so kind of you to consent," he cried. "Indeed, you are +the kindest person in all the world. I thought so when I saw +you bending over these sick people, and, now I know." + +"It is you who are kind," protested Sister Anne, "to take +pity on me." + +"Pity on you!" laughed Sam. "You can't pity a person who can +do more with a smile than old man Flagg can do with all his +millions. Now," he demanded in happy anticipation," where are +we to meet?" + +"That's it," said Sister Anne. "Where are we to meet?" + +"Let it be at the Grand Central Station. The day can't begin +too soon," said Sam; "and before then telephone me what +theatre and restaurants you want and I'll reserve seats and +tables. Oh," exclaimed Sam joyfully, "it will be a wonderful +day--a wonderful day!" + +Sister Anne looked at him curiously and, so, it seemed, a +little wistfully. She held out her hand. + +"I must go back to my duties," she said. "Good-by." + +"Not good-by," said Sam heartily, "only until Saturday--and +my name's Sam Ward and my address is the city room of the +REPUBLIC. What's your name?" + +"Sister Anne," said the girl. "In the nursing order to which +I belong we have no last names." + +"So," asked Sam, "I'll call you Sister Anne?" + +"No; just Sister," said the girl. + +"Sister!" repeated Sam, "Sister!" He breathed the word rather +than spoke it; and the way he said it and the way he looked +when he said it made it carry almost the touch of a caress. +It was as if he had said "Sweetheart! or "Beloved!" "I'll not +forget," said Sam. + +Sister Anne gave an impatient, annoyed laugh. + +"Nor I," she said. + +Sam returned to New York in the smoking-car, puffing +feverishly at his cigar and glaring dreamily at the smoke. He +was living the day over again and, in anticipation, the day +off, still to come. He rehearsed their next meeting at the +station; he considered whether or not he would meet her with +a huge bunch of violets or would have it brought to her when +they were at luncheon by the head waiter. He decided the +latter way would be more of a pleasant surprise. He planned +the luncheon. It was to be the most marvellous repast he +could evolve; and, lest there should be the slightest error, +he would have it prepared in advance--and it should cost half +his week's salary. + +The place where they were to dine he would leave to her, +because he had observed that women had strange ideas about +clothes--some of them thinking that certain clothes must go +with certain restaurants. Some of them seemed to believe +that, instead of their conferring distinction upon the +restaurant, the restaurant conferred distinction upon them. +He was sure Sister Anne would not be so foolish, but it might +be that she must always wear her nurse's uniform and that she +would prefer not to be conspicuous; so he decided that the +choice of where they would dine he would leave to her. He +calculated that the whole day ought to cost about eighty +dollars, which, as star reporter, was what he was then +earning each week. That was little enough to give for a day +that would be the birthday of his life! No, he contradicted-- +the day he had first met her must always be the birthday of +his life; for never had he met one like her and he was sure +there never would be one like her. She was so entirely +superior to all the others, so fine, so difficult--in her +manner there was something that rendered her +unapproachable. Even her simple nurse's gown was worn with a +difference. She might have been a princess in fancy dress. +And yet, how humble she had been when he begged her to let +him for one day personally conduct her over the great city! +"You are so kind to take pity on me," she had said. He +thought of many clever, pretty speeches he might have made. +He was so annoyed he had not thought of them at the time that +he kicked violently at the seat in front of him. + +He wondered what her history might be; he was sure it was +full of beautiful courage and self-sacrifice. It certainly +was outrageous that one so glorious must work for her living, +and for such a paltry living--forty dollars a month! It was +worth that merely to have her sit in the flat where one could +look at her; for already he had decided that, when they were +married, they would live in a flat--probably in one +overlooking Central Park, on Central Park West. He knew of +several attractive suites there at thirty-five dollars a +week--or, if she preferred the suburbs, he would forsake his +beloved New York and return to the country. In his gratitude +to her for being what she was, he conceded even that +sacrifice. + +When he reached New York, from the speculators he bought +front-row seats at five dollars for the two most popular +plays in town. He put them away carefully in his waistcoat +pocket. Possession of them made him feel that already he had +obtained an option on six hours of complete happiness. + +After she left Sam, Sister Anne passed hurriedly through the +hospital to the matron's room and, wrapping herself in a +raccoon coat, made her way to a waiting motor car and said, +"Home!" to the chauffeur. He drove her to the Flagg family +vault, as Flagg's envious millionaire neighbors called the +pile of white marble that topped the highest hill above +Greenwich, and which for years had served as a landfall to +mariners on the Sound. + +There were a number of people at tea when she arrived and +they greeted her noisily. + +"I have had a most splendid adventure!" said Sister Anne. +"There were six of us, you know, dressed up as Red Cross +nurses, and we gave away programmes. Well, one of the New +York reporters thought I was a real nurse and interviewed me +about the Home. Of course I knew enough about it to keep it +up, and I kept it up so well that he was terribly sorry for +me; and. . . . " + +One of the tea drinkers was little Hollis Holworthy, who +prided himself on knowing who's who in New York. He had met +Sam Ward at first nights and prize fights. He laughed +scornfully. + +"Don't you believe it!" he interrupted. "That man who was +talking to you was Sam Ward. He's the smartest newspaper man +in New York; he was just leading you on. Do you suppose +there's a reporter in America who wouldn't know you in the +dark? Wait until you see the Sunday paper." + +Sister Anne exclaimed indignantly. + +"He did not know me!" she protested. "It quite upset him that +I should be wasting my life measuring out medicines and +making beds." + +There was a shriek of disbelief and laughter. + +"I told him," continued Sister Anne, "that I got forty +dollars a month, and he said I could make more as a +typewriter; and I said I preferred to be a manicurist." + +"Oh, Anita!" protested the admiring chorus. + +"And he was most indignant. He absolutely refused to allow me +to be a manicurist. And he asked me to take a day off with +him and let him show me New York. And he offered, as +attractions, moving-picture shows and a drive on a Fifth +Avenue bus, and feeding peanuts to the animals in the park. +And if I insisted upon a chaperon I might bring one of the +nurses. We're to meet at the soda-water fountain in the Grand +Central Station. He said, 'The day cannot begin too soon.'" + +"Oh, Anita!" shrieked the chorus. + +Lord Deptford, who as the newspapers had repeatedly informed +the American public, had come to the Flaggs' country-place to +try to marry Anita Flagg, was amused. + +"What an awfully jolly rag!" he cried. "And what are you +going to do about it?" + +"Nothing," said Anita Flagg. "The reporters have been making +me ridiculous for the last three years; now I have got back +at one of them! "And," she added, "that's all there is to +that!" + +That night, however, when the house party was making toward +bed, Sister Anne stopped by the stairs and said to Lord +Deptford: "I want to hear you call me Sister." + +"Call you what?" exclaimed the young man. "I will tell you," +he whispered, "what I'd like to call you!" + +"You will not!" interrupted Anita. "Do as I tell you and say +Sister once. Say it as though you meant it." + +"But I don't mean it," protested his lordship. "I've said +already what I. . . ." + +"Never mind what you've said already," commanded Miss Flagg. +"I've heard that from a lot of people. Say Sister just once." + +His lordship frowned in embarrassment. + +"Sister!" he exclaimed. It sounded like the pop of a cork. + +Anita Flagg laughed unkindly and her beautiful shoulders +shivered as though she were cold. + +"Not a bit like it, Deptford," she said. "Good-night." + +Later Helen Page, who came to her room to ask her about a +horse she was to ride in the morning, found her ready for bed +but standing by the open window looking out toward the great +city to the south. + +When she turned Miss Page saw something in her eyes that +caused that young woman to shriek with amazement. + +"Anita!" she exclaimed. "You crying! What in Heaven's name +can make you cry?" + +It was not a kind speech, nor did Miss Flagg receive it +kindly. She turned upon the tactless intruder. + +"Suppose," cried Anita fiercely, "a man thought you were +worth forty dollars a month--honestly didn't know!--honestly +believed you were poor and worked for your living, and still +said your smile was worth more than all of old man Flagg's +millions, not knowing they were YOUR millions. Suppose he +didn't ask any money of you, but just to take care of you, to +slave for you--only wanted to keep your pretty hands from +working, and your pretty eyes from seeing sickness and pain. +Suppose you met that man among this rotten lot, what would +you do? What wouldn't you do?" + +"Why, Anita!" exclaimed Miss Page. + +"What would you do?" demanded Anita Flagg. "This is what +you'd do: You'd go down on your knees to that man and say: +'Take me away! Take me away from them, and pity me, and be +sorry for me, and love me--and love me--and love me!" + +"And why don't you?" cried Helen Page. + +"Because I'm as rotten as the rest of them!" cried Anita +Flagg. "Because I'm a coward. And that's why I'm crying. +Haven't I the right to cry?" + +At the exact moment Miss Flagg was proclaiming herself a +moral coward, in the local room of the REPUBLIC Collins, the +copy editor, was editing Sam's story' of the laying of the +corner-stone. The copy editor's cigar was tilted near his +left eyebrow; his blue pencil, like a guillotine ready to +fall upon the guilty word or paragraph, was suspended in mid- +air; and continually, like a hawk preparing to strike, the +blue pencil swooped and circled. But page after page fell +softly to the desk and the blue pencil remained inactive. As +he read, the voice of Collins rose in muttered ejaculations; +and, as he continued to read, these explosions grew louder +and more amazed. At last he could endure no more and, +swinging swiftly in his revolving chair, his glance swept the +office. "In the name of Mike!" he shouted. "What IS this?" + +The reporters nearest him, busy with pencil and typewriters, +frowned in impatient protest. Sam Ward, swinging his legs +from the top of a table, was gazing at the ceiling, wrapped +in dreams and tobacco smoke. Upon his clever, clean-cut +features the expression was far-away and beatific. He came +back to earth. + +"What's what?" Sam demanded. + +At that moment Elliott, the managing editor, was passing +through the room his hands filled with freshly pulled proofs. +He swung toward Collins quickly and snatched up Sam's copy. +The story already was late--and it was important. + +"What's wrong?" he demanded. Over the room there fell a +sudden hush. + +"Read the opening paragraph," protested Collins. "It's like +that for a column! It's all about a girl--about a Red Cross +nurse. Not a word about Flagg or Lord Deptford. No speeches! +No news! It's not a news story at all. It's an editorial, and +an essay, and a spring poem. I don't know what it is. And, +what's worse," wailed the copy editor defiantly and to the +amazement of all, "it's so darned good that you can't touch +it. You've got to let it go or kill it." + +The eyes of the managing editor, masked by his green paper +shade, were racing over Sam's written words. He thrust the +first page back at Collins. + +"Is it all like that?" + +"There's a column like that!" + +"Run it just as it is," commanded the managing editor. " Use +it for your introduction and get your story from the flimsy. +And, in your head, cut out Flagg entirely. Call it 'The Red +Cross Girl.' And play it up strong with pictures." He turned +on Sam and eyed him curiously. + +"What's the idea, Ward?" he said. "This is a newspaper--not a +magazine!" + +The click of the typewriters was silent, the hectic rush of +the pencils had ceased, and the staff, expectant, smiled +cynically upon the star reporter. Sam shoved his hands into +his trousers pockets and also smiled, but unhappily. + +"I know it's not news, Sir," he said; but that's the way I +saw the story--outside on the lawn, the band playing, and the +governor and the governor's staff and the clergy burning +incense to Flagg; and inside, this girl right on the job-- +taking care of the sick and wounded. It seemed to me that a +million from a man that won't miss a million didn't stack up +against what this girl was doing for these sick folks! What I +wanted to say," continued Sam stoutly "was that the moving +spirit of the hospital was not in the man who signed the +checks, but in these women who do the work--the nurses, like +the one I wrote about; the one you called 'The Red Cross +Girl.'" + +Collins, strong through many years of faithful service, +backed by the traditions of the profession, snorted +scornfully. + +"But it's not news!" + +"It's not news," said Elliott doubtfully; "but it's the kind +of story that made Frank O'Malley famous. It's the kind of +story that drives men out of this business into the arms of +what Kipling calls 'the illegitimate sister.'" + +It seldom is granted to a man on the same day to give his +whole heart to a girl and to be patted on the back by his +managing editor; and it was this combination, and not the +drinks he dispensed to the staff in return for its +congratulations, that sent Sam home walking on air. He loved +his business, he was proud of his business; but never before +had it served him so well. It had enabled him to tell the +woman he loved, and incidentally a million other people, how +deeply he honored her; how clearly he appreciated her power +for good. No one would know he meant Sister Anne, save two +people--Sister Anne and himself; but for her and for him that +was as many as should know. In his story he had used real +incidents of the day; he had described her as she passed +through the wards of the hospital, cheering and sympathetic; +he had told of the little acts of consideration that endeared +her to the sick people. + +The next morning she would know that it was she of whom he +had written; and between the lines she would read that the +man who wrote them loved her. So he fell asleep, impatient +for the morning. In the hotel at which he lived the REPUBLIC +was always placed promptly outside his door; and, after many +excursions into the hall, he at last found it. On the front +page was his story, "The Red Cross Girl." It had the place of +honor--right-hand column; but more conspicuous than the +headlines of his own story was one of Redding's, photographs. +It was the one he had taken of Sister Anne when first she had +approached them, in her uniform of mercy, advancing across +the lawn, walking straight into the focus of the, camera. +There was no mistaking her for any other living woman; but +beneath the picture, in bold, staring, uncompromising type, +was a strange and grotesque legend. + +"Daughter of Millionaire Flagg," it read, "in a New Role, +Miss Anita Flagg as The Red Cross Girl." + +For a long time Sam looked at the picture, and then, folding +the paper so that the picture was hidden, he walked to the +open window. From below, Broadway sent up a tumultuous +greeting--cable cars jangled, taxis hooted; and, on the +sidewalks, on their way to work, processions of shop-girls +stepped out briskly. It was the street and the city and the +life he had found fascinating, but now it jarred and +affronted him. A girl he knew had died, had passed out of his +life forever--worse than that had never existed; and yet the +city went or just as though that made no difference, or just +as little difference as it would have made had Sister Anne +really lived and really died. + +At the same early hour, an hour far too early for the rest of +the house party, Anita Flagg and Helen Page, booted and +riding-habited, sat alone at the breakfast table, their tea +before them; and in the hands of Anita Flagg was the DAILY +REPUBLIC. Miss Page had brought the paper to the table and, +with affected indignation at the impertinence of the press, +had pointed at the front-page photograph; but Miss Flagg was +not looking at the photograph, or drinking her tea, or +showing in her immediate surroundings any interest +whatsoever. Instead, her lovely eyes were fastened with +fascination upon the column under the heading "The Red Cross +Girl"; and, as she read, the lovely eyes lost all trace of +recent slumber, her lovely lips parted breathlessly, and on +her lovely cheeks the color flowed and faded and glowed and +bloomed. When she had read as far as a paragraph beginning, +"When Sister Anne walked between them those who suffered +raised their eyes to hers as flowers lift their faces to the +rain," she dropped the paper and started for telephone. + +"Any man," cried she, to the mutual discomfort of Helen Page +and the servants, "who thinks I'm like that mustn't get away! +I'm not like that and I know it; but if he thinks so that's +all I want. And maybe I might be like that--if any man would +help." + +She gave her attention to the telephone and "Information." +She demanded to be instantly put into communication with the +DAILY REPUBLIC and Mr. Sam Ward. She turned again upon Helen +Page. + +"I'm tired of being called a good sport," she protested, "by +men who aren't half so good sports as I am. I'm tired of +being talked to about money--as though I were a stock-broker. +This man's got a head on his shoulders, and he's got the +shoulders too; and he's got a darned good-looking head; and +he thinks I'm a ministering angel and a saint; and he put me +up on a pedestal and made me dizzy--and I like being made +dizzy; and I'm for him! And I'm going after him!" + + +"Be still!" implored Helen Page. "Any one might think you +meant it!" She nodded violently at the discreet backs of the +men-servants. + +"Ye gods, Parker!" cried Anita Flagg. "Does it take three of +you to pour a cup of tea? Get out of here, and tell everybody +that you all three caught me in the act of proposing to an +American gentleman over the telephone and that the betting is +even that I'll make him marry me!" + +The faithful and sorely tried domestics fled toward the door. +"And what's more," Anita hurled after them, "get your bets +down quick, for after I meet him the odds will be a hundred +to one!" + +Had the REPUBLIC been an afternoon paper, Sam might have been +at the office and might have gone to the telephone, and +things might have happened differently; but, as the REPUBLIC +was a morning paper, the only person in the office was the +lady who scrubbed the floors and she refused to go near the +telephone. So Anita Flagg said, "I'll call him up later," and +went happily on her ride, with her heart warm with love for +all the beautiful world; but later it was too late. + +To keep himself fit, Sam Ward always walked to the office. On +this particular morning Hollis Holworthy was walking uptown +and they met opposite the cathedral. + +"You're the very man I want," said Hollworthy joyously-- +"you've got to decide a bet." + +He turned and fell into step with Sam. + +"It's one I made last night with Anita Flagg. She thinks you +didn't know who she was yesterday, and I said that was +ridiculous. Of course you knew. I bet her a theatre party." + +To Sam it seemed hardly fair that so soon, before his fresh +wound had even been dressed, it should be torn open by +impertinent fingers; but he had no right to take offense. How +could the man, or any one else, know what Sister Anne had +meant to him? + +"I'm afraid you lose," he said. He halted to give Holworthy +the hint to leave him, but Holworthy had no such intention. + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed that young man. "Fancy one of +you chaps being taken in like that. "I thought you were +taking her in--getting up a story for the Sunday supplement." + +Sam shook his head, nodded, and again moved on; but he was +not yet to escape. "And, instead of your fooling her," +exclaimed Holworthy incredulously, "she was having fun, with +you!" + +With difficulty Sam smiled. + +"So it would seem," he said. + +"She certainly made an awfully funny story of it!" exclaimed +Holworthy admiringly. "I thought she was making it up--she +must have made some of it up. She said you asked her to take +a day off in New York. That isn't so is it?" + +"Yes, that's so." + +"By Jove!" cried Holworthy--and that you invited her to see +the moving-picture shows?" + +Sam, conscious of the dearly bought front row seats in his +pocket, smiled pleasantly. + +"Did she say I said that--or you?" he asked + +"She did." + +"Well, then, I must have said it." + +Holworthy roared with amusement. + +"And that you invited her to feed peanuts to the monkeys at +the Zoo?" + +Sam avoided the little man's prying eyes. + +"Yes; I said that too." + +"And I thought she was making it up!" exclaimed Holworthy. +"We did laugh. You must see the fun of it yourself." + +Lest Sam should fail to do so he proceeded to elaborate. + +"You must see the fun in a man trying to make a date with +Anita Flagg--just as if she were nobody!" + +"I don't think," said Sam, "that was my idea." He waved his +stick at a passing taxi. "I'm late," he said. He abandoned +Hollis on the sidewalk, chuckling and grinning with delight, +and unconscious of the mischief he had made. + +An hour later at the office, when Sam was waiting for an +assignment, the telephone boy hurried to him, his eyes lit +with excitement. + +"You're wanted on the 'phone," he commanded. His voice +dropped to an awed whisper. "Miss Anita Flagg wants to speak +to you!" + +The blood ran leaping to Sam's heart and face. Then he +remembered that this was not Sister Anne who wanted to speak +to him, but a woman he had never met. + +"Say you can't find me," he directed. The boy gasped, fled, +and returned precipitately. + +"The lady says she wants your telephone number--says she must +have it." + +"Tell her you don't know it; tell her it's against the +rules--and hang up." + +Ten minutes later the telephone boy, in the strictest +confidence, had informed every member of the local staff that +Anita Flagg--the rich, the beautiful, the daring, the +original of the Red Cross story of that morning--had twice +called up Sam Ward and by that young man had been thrown +down--and thrown hard! + +That night Elliott, the managing editor, sent for Sam; and +when Sam entered his office he found also there Walsh, the +foreign editor, with whom he was acquainted only by sight. + +Elliott introduced them and told Sam to be seated. + +"Ward," he began abruptly, "I'm sorry to lose you, but you've +got to go. It's on account of that story of this morning." + +Sam made no sign, but he was deeply hurt. From a paper he had +served so loyally this seemed scurvy treatment. It struck him +also that, considering the spirit in which the story had been +written, it was causing him more kinds of trouble than was +quite fair. The loss of position did not disturb him. In the +last month too many managing editors had tried to steal him +from the REPUBLIC for him to feel anxious as to the future. +So he accepted his dismissal calmly, and could say without +resentment: + +"Last night I thought you liked the story, sir? + +"I did," returned Elliott; "I liked it so much that I'm +sending you to a bigger place, where you can get bigger +stories. We want you to act as our special correspondent in +London. Mr. Walsh will explain the work; and if you'll go +you'll sail next Wednesday." + +After his talk with the foreign editor Sam again walked home +on air. He could not believe it was real--that it was +actually to him it had happened; for hereafter he was to +witness the march of great events, to come in contact with +men of international interests. Instead of reporting what was +of concern only from the Battery to Forty-seventh Street, he +would now tell New York what was of interest in Europe and +the British Empire, and so to the whole world. There was one +drawback only to his happiness--there was no one with whom he +might divide it. He wanted to celebrate his good fortune; he +wanted to share it with some one who would understand how +much it meant to him, who would really care. Had Sister Anne +lived, she would have understood; and he would have laid +himself and his new position at her feet and begged her to +accept them--begged her to run away with him to this +tremendous and terrifying capital of the world, and start the +new life together. + +Among all the women he knew, there was none to take her +place. Certainly Anita Flagg could not take her place. Not +because she was rich, not because she had jeered at him and +made him a laughing-stock, not because his admiration--and he +blushed when he remembered how openly, how ingenuously he had +shown it to her--meant nothing; but because the girl he +thought she was, the girl he had made dreams about and wanted +to marry without a moment's notice, would have seen that what +he offered, ridiculous as it was when offered to Anita Flagg, +was not ridiculous when offered sincerely to a tired, nerve- +worn, overworked nurse in a hospital. It was because Anita +Flagg had not seen that that she could not now make up to him +for the girl he had lost, even though she herself had +inspired that girl and for a day given her existence. + +Had he known it, the Anita Flagg of his imagining was just as +unlike and as unfair to the real girl as it was possible for +two people to be. His Anita Flagg he had created out of the +things he had read of her in impertinent Sunday supplements +and from the impression he had been given of her by the +little ass, Holworthy. She was not at all like that. Ever +since she had come of age she had been beset by sycophants +and flatterers, both old and young, both men and girls, and +by men who wanted her money and by men who wanted her. And it +was because she got the motives of the latter two confused +that she was so often hurt and said sharp, bitter things that +made her appear hard and heartless. + +As a matter of fact, in approaching her in the belief that he +was addressing an entirely different person, Sam had got +nearer to the real Anita Flagg than had any other man. And +so--when on arriving at the office the next morning, which +was a Friday, he received a telegram reading, "Arriving to- +morrow nine-thirty from Greenwich; the day cannot begin too +soon; don't forget you promised to meet me. Anita Flagg "--he +was able to reply: " Extremely sorry; but promise made to a +different person, who unfortunately has since died!"' + +When Anita Flagg read this telegram there leaped to her +lovely eyes tears that sprang from self-pity and wounded +feelings. She turned miserably, appealingly to Helen Page. + +"But why does he do it to me?" Her tone was that of the +bewildered child who has struck her head against the table, +and from the naughty table, without cause or provocation, has +received the devil of a bump. + +Before Miss Page could venture upon an explanation, Anita +Flagg had changed into a very angry young woman. + +"And what's more," she announced, "he can't do it to me!" + +She sent her telegram back again as it was, word for word, +but this time it was signed, Sister Anne." + +In an hour the answer came: "Sister Anne is the person to +whom I refer. She is dead." + +Sam was not altogether at ease at the outcome of his +adventure. It was not in his nature to be rude--certainly not +to a woman, especially not to the most beautiful woman he had +ever seen. For, whether her name was Anita or Anne, about her +beauty there could be no argument; but he assured himself +that he had acted within his rights. A girl who could see in +a well-meant offer to be kind only a subject for ridicule was +of no interest to him. Nor did her telegrams insisting upon +continuing their acquaintance flatter him. As he read them, +they showed only that she looked upon him as one entirely out +of her world--as one with whom she could do an unconventional +thing and make a good story about it later, knowing that it +would be accepted as one of her amusing caprices. + +He was determined he would not lend himself to any such +performance. And, besides, he no longer was a foot-loose, +happy-go-lucky reporter. He no longer need seek for +experiences and material to turn into copy. He was now a man +with a responsible position--one who soon would be conferring +with cabinet ministers and putting ambassadors At their ease. +He wondered if a beautiful heiress, whose hand was sought in +marriage by the nobility of England, would understand the +importance of a London correspondent. He hoped someone would +tell her. He liked to think of her as being considerably +impressed and a little unhappy. + +Saturday night he went to the theatre for which he had +purchased tickets. And he went alone, for the place that +Sister Anne was to have occupied could not be filled by any +other person. It would have been sacrilege. At least, so it +pleased him to pretend. And all through dinner, which he ate +alone at the same restaurant to which he had intended taking +her, he continued, to pretend she was with him. And at the +theatre, where there was going forward the most popular of +all musical comedies, the seat next to him, which to the +audience, appeared wastefully empty, was to him filled with +her gracious presence. That Sister Anne was not there--that +the pretty romance he had woven about her had ended in +disaster--filled, him with real regret. He was glad he was,, +leaving New York. He was glad he was going, where nothing +would remind him of her. And then he glanced up--and looked +straight into her eyes! + +He was seated in the front row, directly on the aisle. The +seat Sister Anne was supposed to be occupying was on his +right, and a few seats farther to his right rose the stage +box and in the stage box, and in the stage box, almost upon +the stage, and with the glow of the foot-lights full in her +face, was Anita Flagg, smiling delightedly down on him. There +were others with her. He had a confused impression of bulging +shirt-fronts, and shining silks, and diamonds, and drooping +plumes upon enormous hats. He thought he recognized Lord +Deptford and Holworthy; but the only person he distinguished +clearly was Anita Flagg. The girl was all in black velvet, +which was drawn to her figure like a wet bathing suit; round +her throat was a single string of pearls, and on her hair of +golden-rod was a great hat of black velvet, shaped like a +bell, with the curving lips of a lily. And from beneath its +brim Anita Flagg, sitting rigidly erect with her white-gloved +hands resting lightly on her knee, was gazing down at him, +smiling with pleasure, with surprise, with excitement. + +When she saw that, in spite of her altered appearance, he +recognized her, she bowed so violently and bent her head so +eagerly that above her the ostrich plumes dipped and +courtesied like wheat in a storm. But Sam neither bowed nor +courtesied. Instead, he turned his head slowly over his left +shoulder, as though he thought she was speaking not to him +but some one beyond him, across the aisle. And then his eyes +returned to the stage and did not again look toward her. It +was not the cut direct, but it was a cut that hurt; and in +their turn the eyes of Miss Flagg quickly sought the stage. +At the moment, the people in the audience happened to be +laughing; and she forced a smile and then laughed with them. + +Out of the corner of his eye Sam could not help seeing her +profile exposed pitilessly in the glow of the foot-lights; +saw her lips tremble like those of a child about to cry; and +then saw the forced, hard smile--and heard her laugh lightly +and mechanically. + +"That's all she cares." he told himself. + +It seemed to him that in all he heard of her, in everything +she did, she kept robbing him still further of all that was +dear to him in Sister Anne. + +For five minutes, conscious of the foot-lights, Miss Flagg +maintained upon her lovely face a fixed and intent +expression, and then slowly and unobtrusively drew back to a +seat in the rear of the box. In the' darkest recesses she +found Holworthy, shut off from a view of the stage by a +barrier of women's hats. + +"Your friend Mr. Ward," she began abruptly, in a whisper, "is +the rudest, most ill-bred person I ever met. When I talked to +him the" other day I thought he was nice. He was nice, But he +has behaved abominably--like a boor--like a sulky child. Has +he no sense of humor? Because I played a joke on him, is +that any reason why he should hurt me?" + +"Hurt you?" exclaimed little Holworthy in amazement. "Don't +be ridiculous! How could he hurt you? Why should you care how +rude he is? Ward's a clever fellow, but he fancies himself. +He's conceited. He's too good-looking; and a lot of silly +women have made such a fuss over him. So when one of them +laughs at him he can't understand it. That's the trouble. I +could see that when I was telling him." + +"Telling him!" repeated Miss Flagg--"Telling him what?" + +"About what a funny story you made of it," explained +Holworthy. "About his having the nerve to ask you to feed the +monkeys and to lunch with him." + +Miss Flagg interrupted with a gasping intake of her breath. + +"Oh!" she said softly. "So-so you told him that, did you? +And--what else did you tell him?" , + +"Only what you told us--that he said 'the day could not begin +too soon'; that he said he wouldn't let you be a manicure and +wash the hands of men who weren't fit to wash the streets you +walked on." + +There was a pause. + +"Did I tell you he said that?" breathed Anita Flagg. + +"You know you did," said Holworthy. + +There was another pause. + +"I must have been mad!" said the girl. + +There was a longer pause and Holworthy shifted uneasily. + +"I'm afraid you are angry," he ventured. + +"Angry!" exclaimed Miss Flagg. "I should say I was +angry, but not with you. I'm very much pleased with you. At +the end of the act I'm going to let you take me out into the +lobby." + +With his arms tightly folded, Sam sat staring unhappily at +the stage and seeing nothing. He was sorry for himself +because Anita Flagg had destroyed his ideal of a sweet and +noble woman--and he was sorry for Miss Flagg because a man +had been rude to her. That he happened to be that man did not +make his sorrow and indignation the less intense; and, +indeed, so miserable was he and so miserable were his looks, +that his friends on the stage considered sending him a note, +offering, if he would take himself out of the front row, to +give him back his money at the box office. Sam certainly +wished to take himself away; but he did not want to admit +that he was miserable, that he had behaved ill, that the +presence of Anita Flagg could spoil his evening--could, in +the slightest degree affect him. So he sat, completely +wretched, feeling that he was in a false position; that if he +were it was his own fault; that he had acted like an ass and +a brute. It was not a cheerful feeling. + +When the curtain fell he still remained seated. He knew +before the second act there was an interminable wait; but he +did not want to chance running into Holworthy in the lobby +and he told himself it would be rude to abandon Sister Anne. +But he now was not so conscious of the imaginary Sister Anne +as of the actual box party on his near right, who were +laughing and chattering volubly. He wondered whether they +laughed at him--whether Miss Flagg were again entertaining +them at his expense; again making his advances appear +ridiculous. He was so sure of it that he flushed +indignantly. He was glad he had been rude. + +And then, at his elbow, there was the rustle of silk; and a +beautiful figure, all in black velvet, towered above him, +then crowded past him, and sank into the empty seat at his +side. He was too startled to speak--and Miss Anita Flagg +seemed to understand that and to wish to give him time; for, +without regarding him in the least, and as though to +establish the fact that she had come to stay, she began +calmly and deliberately to remove the bell-like hat. This +accomplished, she bent toward him, her eyes looking straight +into his, her smile reproaching him. In the familiar tone of +an old and dear friend she said to him gently: + +"This is the day you planned for me. Don't you think you've +wasted quite enough of it?" + +Sam looked back into the eyes, and saw in them no trace of +laughter or of mockery, but, instead, gentle reproof and +appeal--and something else that, in turn, begged of him to be +gentle. + +For a moment, too disturbed to speak, he looked at her, +miserably, remorsefully. + +"It's not Anita Flagg at all," he said. "It's Sister Anne +come back to life again!" The girl shook her head. + +"No; it's Anita Flagg. I'm not a bit like the girl you +thought you met and I did say all the, things Holworthy told +you I said; but that was before I understood--before I read +what you wrote about Sister Anne--about the kind of me you +thought you'd met. When I read that I knew what sort of a man +you were. I knew you had been really kind and gentle, and I +knew you had dug out something that I did not know was +there--that no one else had found. And I remembered how you +called me Sister. I mean the way you said it. And I wanted to +hear it again. I wanted you to say it." + +She lifted her face to his. She was very near him--so near +that her shoulder brushed against his arm. In the box above +them her friends, scandalized and amused, were watching her +with the greatest interest. Half of the people in the now +half-empty house were watching them with the greatest +interest. To them, between reading advertisements on the +programme and watching Anita Flagg making desperate love to a +lucky youth in the front row, there was no question of which +to choose. + +The young people in the front row did not know they were +observed. They were alone--as much alone as though they were +seated in a biplane, sweeping above the clouds. + +"Say it again," prompted Anita Flagg "Sister." + +"I will not!" returned the young man firmly. "But I'll say +this," he whispered: "I'll say you're the most wonderful, the +most beautiful, and the finest woman who has ever lived!" + +Anita Flagg's eyes left his quickly; and, with her head bent, +she stared at the bass drum in the orchestra. + +"I don't know," she said, "but that sounds just as good." + +When the curtain was about to rise she told him to take her +back to her box, so that he could meet her friends and go on +with them to supper; but when they reached the rear of the +house she halted. + +"We can see this act," she said, "or--my car's in front of +the theatre--we might go to the park and take a turn or two +or three. Which would you prefer?" + +"Don't make me laugh!" said Sam. + +As they sat all together at supper with those of the box +party, but paying no attention to them whatsoever, Anita +Flagg sighed contentedly. + +"There's only one thing," she said to Sam, "that is making me +unhappy; and because it is such sad news I haven't told you. + +It is this: I am leaving America. I am going to spend the +winter in London. I sail next Wednesday." + +"My business is to gather news," said Sam, but in all my life +I never gathered such good news as that." + +"Good news!" exclaimed Anita. + +"Because," explained Sam, "I am leaving, America--am +spending the winter in England. I am sailing on Wednesday. +No; I also am unhappy; but that is not what makes me +unhappy." + +"Tell me," begged Anita. + +"Some day," said Sam. + +The day he chose to tell her was the first day they were at +sea--as they leaned upon the rail, watching Fire Island +disappear. + +"This is my unhappiness," said Sam--and he pointed to a name +on the passenger list. It was: "The Earl of Deptford, and +valet." "And because he is on board!" + +Anita Flagg gazed with interest at a pursuing sea-gull. + +"He is not on board," she said. "He changed to another boat." + +Sam felt that by a word from her a great weight might be +lifted from his soul. He looked at her appealingly--hungrily. + +"Why did he change?" he begged. + +Anita Flagg shook her head in wonder. She smiled at him with +amused despair. + +"Is that all that is worrying you?" she said. + + + +Chapter 2. THE GRAND CROSS OF THE CRESCENT + +Of some college students it has been said that, in order to +pass their examinations, they will deceive and cheat their +kind professors. This may or may not be true. One only can +shudder and pass hurriedly on. But whatever others may have +done, when young Peter Hallowell in his senior year came up +for those final examinations which, should he pass them even +by a nose, would gain him his degree, he did not cheat. He +may have been too honest, too confident, too lazy, but Peter +did not cheat. It was the professors who cheated. + +At Stillwater College, on each subject on which you are +examined you can score a possible hundred. That means +perfection, and in, the brief history of Stillwater, which +is a very, new college, only one man has attained it. After +graduating he "accepted a position" in an asylum for the +insane, from which he was, promoted later to the poor-house, +where he died. Many Stillwater undergraduates studied his +career and, lest they also should attain perfection, were +afraid to study anything else. Among these Peter was by far +the most afraid. + +The marking system at Stillwater is as follows: If in all the +subjects in which you have been examined your marks added +together give you an average of ninety, you are passed "with +honors"; if of seventy-five, you pass "with distinction"; if +Of fifty, You just "pass." It is not unlike the grocer's +nice adjustment of fresh eggs, good eggs, and eggs. The +whole college knew that if Peter got in among the eggs he +would be lucky, but the professors and instructors of +Stillwater 'were determined that, no matter what young +Hallowell might do to prevent it, they would see that he +passed his examinations. And they constituted the jury of +awards. Their interest in Peter was not because they loved +him so much, but because each loved his own vine-covered +cottage, his salary, and his dignified title the more. And +each knew that that one of the faculty who dared to flunk +the son of old man Hallowell, who had endowed Stillwater, who +supported Stillwater, and who might be expected to go on +supporting Stillwater indefinitely, might also at the same +time hand in his official resignation. + +Chancellor Black, the head of Stillwater, was an up-to-date +college president. If he did not actually run after money he +went where money was, and it was not his habit to be +downright rude to those who possessed it. And if any three- +thousand-dollar-a-year professor, through a too strict +respect for Stillwater's standards of learning, should lose +to that institution a half-million-dollar observatory, +swimming-pool, or gymnasium, he was the sort of college +president, who would see to it that the college lost also the +services of that too conscientious instructor. + +He did not put this in writing or in words, but just before +the June examinations, when on, the campus he met one of the +faculty, he would inquire with kindly interest as to the +standing of young Hallowell. + +"That is too bad!" he would exclaim, but, more in sorrow than +in anger. "Still, I hope the boy can pull through. He is his +dear father's pride, and his father's heart is set upon his +son's obtaining his degree. Let us hope he will pull +through." For four years every professor had been pulling +Peter through, and the conscience of each had become +calloused. They had only once more to shove him through and +they would be free of him forever. And so, although they did +not conspire together, each knew that of the firing squad +that was to aim its rifles at, Peter, HIS rifle would hold +the blank cartridge. + +The only one of them who did not know this was Doctor Henry +Gilman. Doctor Gilman was the professor of ancient and modern +history at Stillwater, and greatly respected and loved. He +also was the author of those well-known text-books, "The +Founders of Islam," and "The Rise and Fall of the Turkish +Empire." This latter work, in five volumes, had been not +unfavorably compared to Gibbon's "Decline and Fall of the +Roman Empire." The original newspaper comment, dated some +thirty years back, the doctor had preserved, and would +produce it, now somewhat frayed and worn, and read it to +visitors. He knew it by heart, but to him it always possessed +a contemporary and news interest. + +"Here is a review of the history," he would say--he always +referred to it as "the" history--"that I came across in my +TRANSCRIPT." + +In the eyes of Doctor Gilman thirty years was so brief a +period that it was as though the clipping had been printed +the previous after-noon. + +The members of his class who were examined on the "Rise and +Fall," and who invariably came to grief over it, referred to +it briefly as the Fall," sometimes feelingly as "the. . . . +Fall." The" history began when Constantinople was Byzantium, +skipped lightly over six centuries to Constantine, and in the +last two Volumes finished up the Mohammeds with the downfall +of the fourth one and the coming of Suleiman. Since Suleiman, +Doctor Gilman did not recognize Turkey as being on the map. +When his history said the Turkish Empire had fallen, then the +Turkish Empire fell. Once Chancellor Black suggested that he +add a sixth volume that would cover the last three centuries. + +"In a history of Turkey issued as a text-book," said the +chancellor, "I think the Russian-Turkish War should be +included." + +Doctor Gilman, from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, gazed +at him in mild reproach. "The war in the Crimea!" he +exclaimed. "Why, I was alive at the time. I know about it. +That is not history." + +Accordingly, it followed that to a man who since the +seventeenth century knew of no event, of interest, Cyrus +Hallowell, of the meat-packers' trust, was not an imposing +figure. And such a man the son of Cyrus Hallowell was but an +ignorant young savage, to whom "the" history certainly had +been a closed book. And so when Peter returned his +examination paper in a condition almost as spotless as that +in which he had received it, Doctor Gilman carefully and +conscientiously, with malice toward none and, with no thought +of the morrow, marked" five." + +Each of the other professors and instructors had marked Peter +fifty. In their fear of Chancellor Black they dared not give +the boy less, but they refused to be slaves to the extent of +crediting him with a single point higher than was necessary +to pass him. But Doctor Gilman's five completely knocked out +the required average of fifty, and young Peter was "found" +and could not graduate. It was an awful business! The only +son of the only Hallowell refused a degree in his father's +own private college--the son of the man who had built the +Hallowell Memorial, the new Laboratory, the Anna Hallowell +Chapel, the Hallowell Dormitory, and the Hallowell Athletic +Field. When on the bulletin board of the dim hall of the +Memorial to his departed grandfather Peter read of his own +disgrace and downfall, the light the stained-glass window +cast upon his nose was of no sicklier a green than was the +nose itself. Not that Peter wanted an A.M. or an A.B., not +that he desired laurels he had not won, but because the young +man was afraid of his father. And he had cause to be. Father +arrived at Stillwater the next morning. The interviews that +followed made Stillwater history. + +"My son is not an ass!" is what Hallowell senior is said to +have said to Doctor Black. "And if in four years you and your +faculty cannot give him the rudiments of an education, I will +send him to a college that can. And I'll send my money where +I send Peter." + +In reply Chancellor Black could have said that it was the +fault of the son and not of the college; he could have said +that where three men had failed to graduate one hundred and +eighty had not. But did he say that? Oh, no, he did not say +that! He was not that sort of, a college president. Instead, +he remained calm and sympathetic, and like a conspirator in a +comic opera glanced apprehensively round his, study. He +lowered his voice. + +"There has been contemptible work here, "he whispered--"spite +and a mean spirit of reprisal. I have been making a secret +investigation, and I find that this blow at your son and you, +and at the good name of our college was struck by one man, a +man with a grievance--Doctor Gilman. Doctor Gilman has +repeatedly desired me to raise his salary." This did not +happen to be true, but in such a crisis Dotor Black could not +afford to be too particular. + +"I have seen no reason for raising his salary--and there you +have the explanation. In revenge he has made this attack. But +he overshot his mark. In causing us temporary embarrassment +he has brought about his own downfall. I have already asked +for his resignation." + +Every day in the week Hallowell was a fair, sane man, but on +this particular day he was wounded, his spirit was hurt, his +self-esteem humiliated. He was in a state of mind to believe +anything rather than that his son was an idiot. + +"I don't want the man discharged," he protested, "just +because Peter is lazy. But if Doctor Gilman was moved by +personal considerations, if he sacrificed my Peter in order +to get even . . . ." + +"That," exclaimed Black in a horrified whisper, "is exactly +what he did! Your generosity to the college is well known. +You are recognized all over America as its patron. And he +believed that when I refused him an increase in salary it was +really you who refused it--and he struck at you through your +son. Everybody thinks so. The college is on fire with +indignation. And look at the mark he gave Peter! Five! That +in itself shows the malice. Five is not a mark, it is an +insult! No one, certainly not your brilliant son--look how +brilliantly he managed the glee-club and foot-ball tour--is +stupid enough to deserve five. No, Doctor Gilman went too +far. And he has been justly punished!" + +What Hallowell senior was willing to believe of what the +chancellor told him, and his opinion of the matter as +expressed to Peter, differed materially. + +"They tell me," he concluded, "that in the fall they will +give you another examination, and if you pass then, you will +get your degree. No one will know you've got it. They'll slip +it to you out of the side-door like a cold potato to a tramp. +The only thing people will know is that when your classmates +stood up and got their parchments--the thing they'd been +working for four years, the only reason for their going to +college at all--YOU were not among those present. That's your +fault; but if you don't get your degree next fall that will +be my fault. I've supported you through college and you've +failed to deliver the goods. Now you deliver them next fall, +or you can support yourself." + +"That will be all right," said Peter humbly; "I'll pass next +fall." + +"I'm going to make sure of that," said Hallowell senior. "To- +morrow you will take those history books that you did not +open, especially Gilman's 'Rise and Fall,' which it seems you +have not even purchased, and you will travel for the entire +summer with a private tutor . . . ." + +Peter, who had personally conducted the foot-ball and base- +ball teams over half of the Middle States and daily bullied +and browbeat them, protested with indignation. "WON'T travel +with a private tutor!" + +"If I say so," returned Hallowell senior grimly, "you'll +travel with a governess and a trained nurse, and wear a +strait jacket. And you'll continue to wear it until you can +recite the history of Turkey backward. And in order that you +may know it backward--and forward you will spend this summer +in Turkey--in Constantinople--until I send you permission to +come home." + +"Constantinople!" yelled Peter. "In August! Are you serious?" + +" Do I look it?" asked Peter's father. He did. + +"In Constantinople," explained Mr. Hallowell senior, "there +will be nothing to distract you from your studies, and in +spite of yourself every minute you will be imbibing history +and local color." + +"I'll be imbibing fever,", returned Peter, "and sunstroke and +sudden death. If you want to get rid of me, why don't you +send me to the island where they sent Dreyfus? It's quicker. +You don't have to go to Turkey to study about Turkey." + +"You do!" said his father. + +Peter did not wait for the festivities of commencement week. +All day he hid in his room, packing his belongings or giving +them away to e members of his class, who came to tell him +what a rotten shame it was, and to bid him good-by. They +loved Peter for himself alone, and at losing him were loyally +enraged. They sired publicly to express their sentiments, and +to that end they planned a mock trial of the Rise and Fall," +at which a packed jury would sentence it to cremation. They +planned also to hang Doctor Gilman in effigy. The effigy with +a rope round its neck was even then awaiting mob violence. It +was complete to the silver-white beard and the gold +spectacles. But Peter squashed both demonstrations. He did +not know Doctor Gilman had been forced to resign, but he +protested that the horse-play of his friends would make him +appear a bad loser. "It would look, boys," he said, "as +though I couldn't take my medicine. Looks like kicking +against the umpire's decision. Old Gilman fought fair. He +gave me just what was coming to me. I think a darn sight more +of him than do of that bunch of boot-lickers that had the +colossal nerve to pretend I scored fifty!" + +Doctor Gilman sat in his cottage that stood the edge of the +campus, gazing at a plaster bust of Socrates which he did not +see. Since that morning he had ceased to sit in the chair of +history at Stillwater College. They were retrenching, the +chancellor had told him curtly, cutting down unnecessary +expenses, for even in his anger Doctor Black was too +intelligent to hint at his real motive, and the professor was +far too innocent of evil, far too detached from college +politics to suspect. He would remain a professor emeritus on +half pay, but he no longer would teach. The college he had +served for thirty years-since it consisted of two brick +buildings and a faculty of ten young men--no longer needed +him. Even his ivy-covered cottage, in which his wife and he +had lived for twenty years, in which their one child had +died, would at the beginning of the next term be required of +him. But the college would allow him those six months in +which to "look round." So, just outside the circle of light +from his student lamp, he sat in his study, and stared with +unseeing eyes at the bust of Socrates. He was not considering +ways and means. They must be faced later. He was considering +how he could possibly break the blow to his wife. What +eviction from that house would mean to her no one but he +understood. Since the day their little girl had died, nothing +in the room that had been her playroom, bedroom, and nursery +had been altered, nothing had been touched. To his wife, +somewhere in the house that wonderful, God-given child was +still with them. Not as a memory but as a real and living +presence. When at night the professor and his wife sat at +either end of the study table, reading by the same lamp, he +would see her suddenly lift her head, alert and eager, as +though from the nursery floor a step had sounded, as though +from the darkness a sleepy voice had called her. And when +they would be forced to move to lodgings in the town, to some +students' boarding-house, though they could take with them +their books, their furniture, their mutual love and +comradeship, they must leave behind them the haunting +presence of the child, the colored pictures she had cut from +the Christmas numbers and plastered over the nursery walls, +the rambler roses that with her own hands she had planted and +that now climbed to her window and each summer peered into +her empty room. + +Outside Doctor Gilman's cottage, among the trees of the +campus, paper lanterns like oranges aglow were swaying in the +evening breeze. In front of Hallowell the flame of a bonfire +shot to the top of the tallest elms, and gathered in a circle +round it the glee club sang, and cheer succeeded cheer-cheers +for the heroes of the cinder track, for the heroes of the +diamond and the gridiron , cheers for the men who had flunked +especially for one man who had flunked. But for that man who +for thirty years in the class room had served the college +there were no cheers. No one remembered him, except the one +student who had best reason to remember him. But this +recollection Peter had no rancor or bitterness and, still +anxious lest he should be considered a bad loser, he wished +Doctor Gilman a every one else to know that. So when the +celebration was at its height and just before train was due +to carry him from Stillwater, ran across the campus to the +Gilman cottage say good-by. But he did not enter the cottage +He went so far only as half-way up the garden walk. In the +window of the study which opened upon the veranda he saw +through frame of honeysuckles the professor and wife standing +beside the study table. They were clinging to each other, the +woman weep silently with her cheek on his shoulder, thin, +delicate, well-bred hands clasping arms, while the man +comforted her awkward unhappily, with hopeless, futile +caresses. + +Peter, shocked and miserable at what he had seen, backed +steadily away. What disaster had befallen the old couple he +could not imagine. The idea that he himself might in any way +connected with their grief never entered mind. He was certain +only that, whatever the trouble was, it was something so +intimate and personal that no mere outsider might dare to +offer his sympathy. So on tiptoe he retreated down the garden +walk and, avoiding the celebration at the bonfire, returned +to his rooms. An hour later the entire college escorted him +to the railroad station, and with "He's a jolly good fellow" +and "He's off to Philippopolis in the morn--ing" ringing in +his ears, he sank back his seat in the smoking-car and gazed +at the lights of Stillwater disappearing out of his life. And +he was surprised to find that what lingered his mind was not +the students, dancing like Indians round the bonfire, or at +the steps of the smoking-car fighting to shake his hand, but +the man and woman alone in the cottage stricken with sudden +sorrow, standing like two children lost in the streets, who +cling to each other for comfort and at the same moment +whisper words of courage. + +Two months Later, at Constantinople, Peter, was suffering +from remorse over neglected opportunities, from prickly heat, +and from fleas. And it not been for the moving-picture man, +and the poker and baccarat at the Cercle Oriental, he would +have flung himself into the Bosphorus. In the mornings with +the tutor he read ancient history, which he promptly forgot; +and for the rest of the hot, dreary day with the moving- +picture man through the bazaars and along the water-front he +stalked suspects for the camera. + +The name of the moving-picture man was Harry Stetson. He had +been a newspaper reporter, a press-agent, and an actor in +vaudeville and in a moving-picture company. Now on his own +account he was preparing an illustrated lecture on the East, +adapted to churches and Sunday-schools. Peter and he wrote it +in collaboration, and in the evenings rehearsed it with +lantern slides before an audience of the hotel clerk, the +tutor, and the German soldier of fortune who was trying to +sell the young Turks very old battleships. Every other +foreigner had fled the city, and the entire diplomatic corps +had removed itself to the summer capital at Therapia. + +There Stimson, the first secretary of the embassy and, in the +absence of the ambassador, CHARGE D'AFFAIRES, invited Peter +to become his guest. Stimson was most anxious to be polite to +Peter, for Hallowell senior was a power in the party then in +office, and a word from him at Washington in favor of a +rising young diplomat would do no harm. But Peter was afraid +his father would consider Therapia "out of bounds." + + +"He sent me to Constantinople," explained Peter, "and if he +thinks I'm not playing the game the Lord only knows where he +might send me next-and he might cut off my allowance." + +In the matter of allowance Peter's father had been most +generous. This was fortunate, for poker, as the pashas and +princes played it at he Cercle, was no game for cripples or +children. But, owing to his letter-of-credit and his illspent +life, Peter was able to hold his own against men three times +his age and of fortunes nearly equal to that of his father. +Only they disposed of their wealth differently. On many +hot evening Peter saw as much of their money scattered over +the green table as his father had spent over the Hallowell +athletic field. + +In this fashion Peter spent his first month of exile--in the +morning trying to fill his brain with names of great men who +had been a long time dead, and in his leisure hours with +local color. To a youth of his active spirit it was a full +life without joy or recompense. A Letter from Charley Hines, +a classmate who lived at Stillwater, which arrived after +Peter had endured six weeks of Constantinople, released him +from boredom and gave life a real interest. It was a letter +full of gossip intended to amuse. One paragraph failed of its +purpose. It read: "Old man Gilman has got the sack. The +chancellor offered him up as a sacrifice to your father, and +because he was unwise enough to flunk you. He is to move out +in September. I ran across them last week when I was looking +for rooms for a Freshman cousin. They were reserving one in +the same boarding-house. It's a shame, and I know you'll +agree. They are a fine old couple, and I don't like to think +of them herding with Freshmen in a shine boardinghouse. Black +always was a swine." + +Peter spent fully ten minutes getting to the cable office. + +"Just learned," he cabled his father, "Gilman dismissed +because flunked me consider this outrageous please see he +is reinstated." + +The answer, which arrived the next day, did not satisfy +Peter. It read: "Informed Gilman acted through spite have no +authority as you know to interfere any act of black." + +Since Peter had learned of the disaster that through his +laziness had befallen the Gilmans, his indignation at the +injustice had been hourly increasing. Nor had his banishment +to Constantinople strengthened his filial piety. On the +contrary, it had rendered him independent and but little +inclined to kiss the paternal rod. In consequence his next +cable was not conciliatory. + +"Dismissing Gilman Looks more Like we acted through spite +makes me appear contemptible Black is a toady will do as +you direct please reinstate." + +To this somewhat peremptory message his father answered: + +"If your position unpleasant yourself to blame not Black +incident is closed." + +"Is it?" said the son of his father. He called Stetson to his +aid and explained. Stetson reminded him of the famous +cablegram of his distinguished contemporary: "Perdicaris +alive and Raisuli dead!" + +Peter's paraphrase of this ran: "Gilman returns to Stillwater +or I will not try for degree." + +The reply was equally emphatic: + +"You earn your degree or you earn your own living." + +This alarmed Stetson, but caused Peter to deliver his +ultimatum: "Choose to earn my own living am leaving +Constantinople." + +Within a few days Stetson was also leaving Constantinople by +steamer via Naples. Peter, who had come to like him very +much, would have accompanied him had he not preferred to +return home more leisurely by way of Paris and London. + +"You'll get there long before I do," said Peter, "and as soon +as you arrive I want you to go to Stillwater and give Doctor +Gilman some souvenir of Turkey from me. Just to show him I've +no hard feelings. He wouldn't accept money, but he can't +refuse a present. I want it to be something characteristic of +the country, Like a prayer rug, or a scimitar, or an +illuminated Koran, or " + +Somewhat doubtfully, somewhat sheepishly, Stetson drew from +his pocket a flat morocco case and opened it. "What's the +matter with one of these?" he asked. + +In a velvet-lined jewel case was a star of green enamel and +silver gilt. To it was attached a ribbon of red and green. + +"That's the Star of the Crescent," said Peter. "Where did you +buy it?" + +"Buy it!" exclaimed Stetson. "You don't buy them. The Sultan +bestows them." + +"I'll bet the Sultan didn't bestow that one," said Peter. + +"I'll bet," returned Stetson, "I've got something in my +pocket that says he did." + +He unfolded an imposing document covered with slanting lines +of curving Arabic letters in gold. Peter was impressed but +still skeptical. + +"What does that say when it says it in English?" he asked. + +"It says," translated Stetson, "that his Imperial Majesty, +the Sultan, bestows upon Henry Stetson, educator, author, +lecturer, the Star of the Order of the Crescent, of the fifth +class, for services rendered to Turkey." + +Peter interrupted him indignantly. + +"Never try to fool the fakirs, my son," he protested. "I'm a +fakir myself. What services did you ever . . . ." + +"Services rendered," continued Stetson undisturbed, "in +spreading throughout the United States a greater knowledge of +the customs, industries, and religion of the Ottoman Empire. +That," he explained, "refers to my--I should say our-- +moving-picture lecture. I thought it would look well if, when +I lectured on Turkey, I wore a Turkish decoration, so I went +after this one." + +Peter regarded his young friend with incredulous admiration. + +"But did they believe you," he demanded, "when you told them +you were an author and educator?" + +Stetson closed one eye and grinned. "They believed whatever I +paid them to believe." + +"If you can get one of those, "cried Peter, Old man Gilman +ought to get a dozen. I'll tell them he's the author of the +longest and dullest history of their flea-bitten empire that +was ever written. And he's a real professor and a real +author, and I can prove it. I'll show them the five volumes +with his name in each. How much did that thing cost you?" + +"Two hundred dollars in bribes," said Stetson briskly, "and +two months of diplomacy." + +"I haven't got two months for diplomacy," said Peter, "so +I'll have to increase the bribes. I'll stay here and get the +decoration for Gilman, and you work the papers at home. No +one ever heard of the Order of the Crescent, but that only +makes it the easier for us. They'll only know what we tell +them, and we'll tell them it's the highest honor ever +bestowed by a reigning sovereign upon an American scholar. If +you tell the people often enough that anything is the best +they believe you. That's the way father sells his hams. +You've been a press-agent. From now on you're going to be my +press-agent--I mean Doctor Gilman's press-agent. I pay your +salary, but your work is to advertise him and the Order of +the Crescent. I'll give you a letter to Charley Hines at +Stillwater. He sends out college news to a syndicate and he's +the local Associated Press man. He's sore at their +discharging Gilman and he's my best friend, and he'll work +the papers as far as you like. Your job is to make Stillwater +College and Doctor Black and my father believe that when they +lost Gilman they lost the man who made Stillwater famous. And +before we get through boosting Gilman, we'll make my father's +million-dollar gift laboratory look like an insult." + +In the eyes of the former press-agent the light of battle +burned fiercely, memories of his triumphs in exploitation, of +his strategies and tactics in advertising soared before him. + +"It's great!" he exclaimed. "I've got your idea and you've +got me. And you're darned lucky to get me. I've been press- +agent for politicians, actors, society leaders, breakfast +foods, and horse-shows--and I'm the best! I was in charge of +the publicity bureau for Galloway when he ran for governor. +He thinks the people elected him. I know I did. Nora +Nashville was getting fifty dollars a week in vaudeville when +I took hold of her; now she gets a thousand. I even made +people believe Mrs. Hampton-Rhodes was a society leader at +Newport, when all she ever saw of Newport was Bergers and the +Muschenheim-Kings. Why, I am the man that made the American +People believe Russian dancers can dance!" + +"It's plain to see you hate yourself," said 'Peter. "You must +not get so despondent or you might commit suicide. How much +money will you want?" + +"How much have you got?" + +"All kinds," said Peter. "Some in a letter-of-credit that my +father earned from the fretful pig, and much more in cash +that I won at poker from the pashas. When that's gone I've +got to go to work and earn my living. Meanwhile your salary +is a hundred a week and all you need to boost Gilman and the +Order of the Crescent. We are now the Gilman Defense, +Publicity, and Development Committee, and you will begin by +introducing me to the man I am to bribe." + +"In this country you don't need any introduction to the man +you want to bribe," exclaimed Stetson; "you just bribe him!" + + +That same night in the smoking-room of the hotel, Peter and +Stetson made their first move in the game of winning for +Professor Gilman the Order of the Crescent. Stetson presented +Peter to a young effendi in a frock coat and fez. Stetson +called him Osman. He was a clerk in the foreign office and +appeared to be "a friend of a friend of a friend" of the +assistant third secretary. + +The five volumes of the "Rise and Fall" were spread before +him, and Peter demanded to know why so distinguished a +scholar as Doctor Gilman had not received some recognition +from the country he had so sympathetically described. Osman +fingered the volumes doubtfully, and promised the matter +should be brought at once to the attention of the grand +vizier . + +After he had departed Stetson explained that Osman had just +as little chance of getting within speaking distance of the +grand vizier as of the ladies of his harem. + +"It's like Tammany," said Stetson; "there are sachems, +district leaders, and lieutenants. Each of them is entitled +to trade or give away a few of these decorations, just as +each district leader gets his percentage of jobs in the +streetcleaning department. This fellow will go to his patron, +his patron will go to some undersecretary in the cabinet, he +will put it up to a palace favorite, and they will divide +your money. + +"In time the minister of foreign affairs will sign your +brevet and a hundred others, without knowing what he is +signing; then you cable me, and the Star of the Crescent will +burst upon the United States in a way that will make Halley's +comet look like a wax match." + +The next day Stetson and the tutor sailed for home and Peter +was left alone to pursue, as he supposed, the Order of the +Crescent. On the contrary, he found that the Order of the +Crescent was pursuing him. He had not appreciated that, from +underlings and backstair politicians, an itinerant showman +like Stetson and the only son of an American Croesus would +receive very different treatment. + +Within twenty-four hours a fat man with a blue-black beard +and diamond rings called with Osman to apologize for the +latter. Osman, the fat man explained--had been about to make +a fatal error. For Doctor Gilman he had asked the Order of +the Crescent of the fifth class, the same class that had been +given Stetson. The fifth class, the fat man explained, was +all very well for tradesmen, dragomans, and eunuchs, but as +an honor for a savant as distinguished as the friend of his. +Hallowell, the fourth class would hardly be high enough. The +fees, the fat man added, would Also be higher; but, he +pointed out, it was worth the difference, because the fourth +class entitled the wearer to a salute from all sentries. + +"There are few sentries at Stillwater," said Peter; "but I +want the best and I want it quick. Get me the fourth class." + +The next morning he was surprised by an early visit from +Stimson of the embassy. The secretary was considerably +annoyed. + +"My dear Hallowell," he protested, "why the devil didn't you +tell me you wanted a decoration? Of course the State +department expressly forbids us to ask for one for ourselves, +or for any one else. But what's the Constitution between +friends? I'll get it for you at once--but, on two conditions: +that you don't tell anybody I got it, and that you tell me +why you want it, and what you ever did to deserve it." + +Instead, Peter explained fully and so sympathetically that +the diplomat demanded that he, too, should be enrolled as one +of the Gilman Defense Committee. + +"Doctor Gilman's history," he said, "must be presented to the +Sultan. You must have the five volumes rebound in red and +green, the colors of Mohammed, and with as much gold tooling +as they can carry. I hope," he added, they are not soiled." + +"Not by me," Peter assured him. + +"I will take them myself," continued Stimson, "to Muley +Pasha, the minister of foreign affairs, and ask him to +present them to his Imperial Majesty. He will promise to do +so, but he won't; but he knows I know he won't so that is all +right. And in return he will present us with the Order of the +Crescent of the third class." + +"Going up!" exclaimed Peter. "The third class. That will cost +me my entire letter-of-credit." + +"Not at all," said Stimson. "I've saved you from the +grafters. It will cost you only what you pay to have the +books rebound. And the THIRD class is a real honor of which +any one might be proud. You wear it round your neck, and at +your funeral it entitles you to an escort of a thousand +soldiers." + +"I'd rather put up with fewer soldiers," said Peter, " and +wear it longer round my neck What's the matter with our +getting the second class or the first class?" + +At such ignorance Stimson could not repress a smile. + +"The first class," he explained patiently, "is the Great +Grand Cross, and is given only to reigning sovereigns. The +second is called the Grand Cross, and is bestowed only on +crowned princes, prime ministers, and men of world-wide +fame . . . . " + +"What's the matter with Doctor Gilman's being of world-wide +fame?" said Peter. "He will be some day, when Stetson starts +boosting." + +"Some day," retorted Stimson stiffly, " I may be an +ambassador. When I am I hope to get the Grand Cross of the +Crescent, but not now. I'm sorry you're not satisfied," he +added aggrievedly. "No one can get you anything higher than +the third class, and I may lose my official head asking for +that." + +"Nothing is too good for old man Gilman," said Peter, "nor +for you. You get the third class for him, and I'll have +father make you an ambassador." + +That night at poker at the club Peter sat next to Prince +Abdul, who had come from a reception at the Grand vizier 's +and still wore his decorations. Decorations now fascinated +Peter, and those on the coat of the young prince he regarded +with wide-eyed awe. He also regarded Abdul with wide-eyed +awe, because he was the favorite nephew of the Sultan, and +because he enjoyed the reputation of having the worst +reputation in Turkey. Peter wondered why. He always had found +Abdul charming, distinguished, courteous to the verge of +humility, most cleverly cynical, most brilliantly amusing. At +poker he almost invariably won, and while doing so was so +politely bored, so indifferent to his cards and the cards +held by others, that Peter declared he had never met his +equal. + +In a pause in the game, while some one tore the cover off a +fresh pack, Peter pointed at the star of diamonds that +nestled behind the lapel of Abdul's coat. + +"May I ask what that is?" said Peter. + +The prince frowned at his diamond sunburst as though it +annoyed him, and then smiled delightedly. + +"It is an order," he said in a quick aside, "bestowed only +upon men of world-wide fame. I dined to-night," he explained, +"with your charming compatriot, Mr. Joseph Stimson." + +"And Joe told?" said Peter. + +The prince nodded. "Joe told," he repeated; "but it is all +arranged. Your distinguished friend, the Sage of Stillwater, +will receive the Crescent of the third class." + +Peter's eyes were still fastened hungrily upon the diamond +sunburst. + +"Why," he demanded, "can't some one get him one like that?" + +As though about to take offense the prince raised his +eyebrows, and then thought better of it and smiled. + +"There are only two men in all Turkey," he said, "who could +do that." + +"And is the Sultan the other one?" asked Peter. The prince +gasped as though he had suddenly stepped beneath a cold +shower, and then laughed long and silently. + +"You flatter me," he murmured. + +"You know you could if you liked!" whispered Peter stoutly. + +Apparently Abdul did not hear him. "I will take one card," he +said. + +Toward two in the morning there was seventy-five thousand +francs in the pot, and all save Prince Abdul and Peter had +dropped out. "Will you divide?" asked the prince. + +"Why should I?" said Peter. "I've got you beat now. Do you +raise me or call?" The prince called and laid down a full +house. Peter showed four tens. + +"I will deal you one hand, double or quits," said the prince. + +Over the end of his cigar Peter squinted at the great heap of +mother-of-pearl counters and gold-pieces and bank-notes. + +"You will pay me double what is on the table," he said, "or +you quit owing me nothing." + +The prince nodded. + +"Go ahead," said Peter. + +The prince dealt them each a hand and discarded two cards. +Peter held a seven, a pair of kings, and a pair of fours. +Hoping to draw another king, which might give him a three +higher than the three held by Abdul, he threw away the seven +and the lower pair. He caught another king. The prince showed +three queens and shrugged his shoulders. + +Peter, leaning toward him, spoke out of the corner of his +mouth. + +"I'll make you a sporting proposition," he murmured. "You owe +me a hundred and fifty thousand francs. "I'll stake that +against what only two men in the empire can give me." + +The prince allowed his eyes to travel slowly round the circle +of the table. But the puzzled glances of the other players +showed that to them Peter's proposal conveyed no meaning. + +The prince smiled cynically. + +"For yourself?" he demanded. + +"For Doctor Gilman," said Peter. + +"We will cut for deal and one hand will decide," said the +prince. His voice dropped to a whisper. "And no one must ever +know," he warned. + +Peter also could be cynical. + +"Not even the Sultan," he said. + +Abdul won the deal and gave himself a very good hand. But the +hand he dealt Peter was the better one. + +The prince was a good loser. The next afternoon the GAZETTE +OFFICIALLY announced that upon Doctor Henry Gilman, professor +emeritus of the University of Stillwater, U. S. A., the +Sultan had been graciously pleased to confer the Grand Cross +of the Order of the Crescent. + +Peter flashed the great news to Stetson. The cable caught him +at Quarantine. It read: "Captured Crescent, Grand Cross. Get +busy." + +But before Stetson could get busy the campaign of publicity +had been brilliantly opened from Constantinople. Prince +Abdul, although pitchforked into the Gilman Defense +Committee, proved himself one of its most enthusiastic +members. + +"For me it becomes a case of NOBLESSE OBLIGE," he declared. +"If it is worth doing at all it is worth doing well. To-day +the Sultan will command that the "Rise and Fall" be +translated into Arabic, and that it be placed in the national +library. Moreover, the University of Constantinople, the +College of Salonica, and the National Historical Society have +each elected Doctor Gilman an honorary member. I proposed +him, the Patriarch of Mesopotamia seconded him. And the +Turkish ambassador in America has been instructed to present +the insignia with his own hands." + +Nor was Peter or Stimson idle. To assist Stetson in his +press-work, and to further the idea that all Europe was now +clamoring for the "Rise and fall," Peter paid an impecunious +but over-educated dragoman to translate it into five +languages, and Stimson officially wrote of this, and of the +bestowal of the Crescent to the State Department. He pointed +out that not since General Grant had passed through Europe +had the Sultan so highly honored an American. He added he had +been requested by the grand vizier --who had been requested +by Prince Abdul--to request the State Department to inform +Doctor Gilman of these high honors. A request from such a +source was a command and, as desired, the State Department +wrote as requested by the grand vizier to Doctor Gilman, and +tendered congratulations. The fact was sent out briefly from +Washington by Associated Press. This official recognition by +the Government and by the newspapers was all and more than +Stetson wanted. He took off his coat and with a megaphone, +rather than a pen, told the people of the United States who +Doctor Gilman was, who the Sultan was, what a Grand Cross +was, and why America's greatest historian was not without +honor save in his own country. Columns of this were paid for +and appeared as "patent insides," with a portrait of Doctor +Gilman taken from the STILLWATER COLLEGE ANNUAL, and a +picture of the Grand Cross drawn from imagination, in eight +hundred newspapers of the Middle, Western, and Eastern +States. special articles, paragraphs, portraits, and pictures +of the Grand Cross followed, and, using Stillwater as his +base, Stetson continued to flood the country. Young Hines, +the local correspondent, acting under instructions by cable +from Peter, introduced him to Doctor Gilman as a traveller +who lectured on Turkey, and one who was a humble admirer of +the author of the "Rise and fall." Stetson, having studied it +as a student crams an examination, begged that he might sit +at the feet of the master. And for several evenings, actually +at his feet, on the steps of the ivy-covered cottage, +the disguised press-agent drew from the unworldly and +unsuspecting scholar the simple story of his life. To this, +still in his character as disciple and student, he added +photographs he himself made of the master, of the master's +ivy-covered cottage, of his favorite walk across the campus, +of the great historian at work at his desk, at work in his +rose garden, at play with his wife on the croquet lawn. These +he held until the insignia should be actually presented. This +pleasing duty fell to the Turkish ambassador, who, much to +his astonishment, had received instructions to proceed to +Stillwater, Massachusetts, a place of which he had never +heard, and present to a Doctor Gilman, of whom he had never +heard, the Grand Cross of the Crescent. As soon as the +insignia arrived in the official mail-bag a secretary brought +it from Washington to Boston, and the ambassador travelled +down from Bar Harbor to receive it, and with the secretary +took the local train to Stillwater. + +The reception extended to him there is still remembered by +the ambassador as one of the happiest incidents of his +distinguished career. Never since he came to represent his +imperial Majesty in the Western republic had its barbarians +greeted him in a manner in any way so nearly approaching his +own idea of what was his due. + +"This ambassador," Hines had explained to the mayor of +Stillwater, who was also the proprietor of its largest +department store, "is the personal representative of the +Sultan. So we've got to treat him right." + +"It's exactly," added Stetson, "as though the Sultan himself +were coming." + +"And so few crowned heads visit Stillwater," continued Hines, +"that we ought to show we appreciate this one, especially as +he comes to pay the highest honor known to Europe to one of +our townsmen." + +The mayor chewed nervously on his cigar. + +"What'd I better do?" he asked. + +"Mr. Stetson here," Hines pointed out, "has lived in Turkey, +and he knows what they expect. Maybe he will help us." + +"Will you?" begged the mayor. + +"I will," said Stetson. + +Then they visited the college authorities. Chancellor Black +and most of the faculty were on their vacations. But there +were half a dozen professors still in their homes around the +campus, and it was pointed out to them that the coming honor +to one lately of their number reflected glory upon the +college and upon them, and that they should take official +action. + +It was also suggested that for photographic purposes they +should wear their academic robes, caps, and hoods. To these +suggestions, with alacrity--partly because they all loved +Doctor Gilman and partly because they had never been +photographed by a moving-picture machine--they all agreed. So +it came about that when the ambassador, hot and cross and +dusty stepped off the way-train at Stillwater station he +found to his delighted amazement a red carpet stretching to a +perfectly new automobile, a company of the local militia +presenting arms, a committee, consisting of the mayor in a +high hat and white gloves and three professors in gowns and +colored hoods, and the Stillwater silver Cornet Band playing +what, after several repetitions, the ambassador was +graciously pleased to recognize as his national anthem. + +The ambassador forgot that he was hot and cross. He forgot +that he was dusty. His face radiated satisfaction and +perspiration. Here at last were people who appreciated him +and his high office. And as the mayor helped him into the +automobile, and those students who lived in Stillwater +welcomed him with strange yells, and the moving-picture +machine aimed at him point blank, he beamed with +condescension. But inwardly he was ill at ease. + +inwardly he was chastising himself for having, through his +ignorance of America, failed to appreciate the importance of +the man he had come to honor. When he remembered he had never +even heard of Doctor Gilman he blushed with confusion. And +when he recollected that he had been almost on the point of +refusing to come to Stillwater, that he had considered +leaving the presentation to his secretary, he shuddered. What +might not the Sultan have done to him! What a narrow escape! + +Attracted by the band, by the sight of their fellow townsmen +in khaki, by the sight of the stout gentleman in the red fez, +by a tremendous liking and respect for Doctor Gilman, the +entire town of Stillwater gathered outside his cottage. And +inside, the old professor, trembling and bewildered and yet +strangely happy, bowed his shoulders while the ambassador +slipped over them the broad green scarf and upon his only +frock coat pinned the diamond sunburst. In woeful +embarrassment Doctor Gilman smiled and bowed and smiled, and +then, as the delighted mayor of Stillwater shouted, "Speech," +in sudden panic he reached out his hand quickly and covertly, +and found the hand of his wife. + +"Now, then, three Long ones!" yelled the cheer leader. "Now, +then, 'See the Conquering Hero!'" yelled the bandmaster. +"Attention! Present arms!" yelled the militia captain; and +the townspeople and the professors applauded and waved their +hats and handkerchiefs. And Doctor Gilman and his wife, he +frightened and confused, she happy and proud, and taking it +all as a matter of course, stood arm in arm in the frame of +honeysuckles and bowed and bowed and bowed. And the +ambassador so far unbent as to drink champagne, which +appeared mysteriously in tubs of ice from the rear of the +ivy-covered cottage, with the mayor, with the wives of the +professors, with the students, with the bandmaster. Indeed, +so often did he unbend that when the perfectly new automobile +conveyed him back to the Touraine, he was sleeping happily +and smiling in his sleep. + +Peter had arrived in America at the same time as had the +insignia, but Hines and Stetson would not let him show +himself in Stillwater. They were afraid if all three +conspirators foregathered they might inadvertently drop some +clew that would lead to suspicion and discovery. + +So Peter worked from New York, and his first act was +anonymously to supply his father and Chancellor Black with +All the newspaper accounts of the great celebration at +Stillwater. When Doctor black read them he choked. Never +before had Stillwater College been brought so prominently +before the public, and never before had her president been so +utterly and completely ignored. And what made it worse was +that he recognized that even had he been present he could not +have shown his face. How could he, who had, as every one +connected with the college now knew, out of spite and without +cause, dismissed an old and faithful servant, join in +chanting his praises. He only hoped his patron, Hallowell +senior, might not hear of Gilman's triumph. But Hallowell +senior heard little of anything else. At his office, at his +clubs, on the golf-links, every one he met congratulated him +on the high and peculiar distinction that had come to his pet +college. + +"You certainly have the darnedest luck in backing the right +horse," exclaimed a rival pork-packer enviously. "Now if I +pay a hundred thousand for a Velasquez it turns out to be a +bad copy worth thirty dollars, but you pay a professor three +thousand and he brings you in half a million dollars' worth +of free advertising. Why, this Doctor Gilman's doing as much +for your college as Doctor Osler did for Johns Hopkins or as +Walter Camp does for Yale." + +Mr. Hallowell received these Congratulations as gracefully as +he was able, and in secret raged at Chancellor Black. Each +day his rage increased. It seemed as though there would never +be an end to Doctor Gilman. The stone he had rejected had +become the corner-stone of Stillwater. Whenever he opened a +newspaper he felt like exclaiming: "Will no one rid me of +this pestilent fellow?" For the "Rise and Fall," in an +edition deluxe limited to two hundred copies, was being +bought up by all his book-collecting millionaire friends; a +popular edition was on view in the windows of every book- +shop; It was offered as a prize to subscribers to all the +more sedate magazines, and the name and features of the +distinguished author had become famous and familiar. Not a +day passed but that some new honor, at least so the +newspapers stated, was thrust upon him. Paragraphs announced +that he was to be the next exchange professor to Berlin; that +in May he was to lecture at the Sorbonne; that in June he was +to receive a degree from Oxford. + +A fresh-water college on one of the Great Lakes leaped to the +front by offering him the chair of history at that seat of +learning at a salary of five thousand dollars a year. Some of +the honors that had been thrust upon Doctor Gilman existed +only in the imagination of Peter and Stetson, but this offer +happened to be genuine. + +"Doctor Gilman rejected it without consideration. He read the +letter from the trustees to his wife and shook his head. + +"We could not be happy away from Stillwater," he said. " We +have only a month more in the cottage, but after that we +still can walk past it; we can look into the garden and see +the flowers she planted. We can visit the place where she +lies. But if we went away we should be lonely and miserable +for her, and she would be lonely for us." + +Mr. Hallowell could not know why Doctor Gilman had refused to +leave Stillwater; but when he read that the small Eastern +college at which Doctor Gilman had graduated had offered to +make him its president, his jealousy knew no bounds. + +He telegraphed to Black: "Reinstate Gilman at once; offer him +six thousand--offer him whatever he wants, but make him +promise for no consideration to leave Stillwater he is only +member faculty ever brought any credit to the college if we +lose him I'll hold you responsible." + +The next morning, hat in hand, smiling ingratiatingly, the +Chancellor called upon Doctor Gilman and ate so much humble +pie that for a week he suffered acute mental indigestion. But +little did Hallowell senior care for that. He had got what he +wanted. Doctor Gilman, the distinguished, was back in the +faculty, and had made only one condition--that he might live +until he died in the ivy-covered cottage. + +Two weeks later, when Peter arrived at Stillwater to take the +history examination, which, should he pass it, would give him +his degree, he found on every side evidences of the +"worldwide fame" he himself had created. The newsstand at the +depot, the book-stores, the drugstores, the picture-shops, +all spoke of Doctor Gilman; and postcards showing the ivy- +covered cottage, photographs and enlargements of Doctor +Gilman, advertisements of the different. editions of "the" +history proclaimed his fame. Peter, fascinated by the success +of his own handiwork, approached the ivy-covered cottage in a +spirit almost of awe. But Mrs. Gilman welcomed him with the +same kindly, sympathetic smile with which she always gave +courage to the unhappy ones coming up for examinations, and +Doctor Gilman's high honors in no way had spoiled his gentle +courtesy. + +The examination was in writing, and when Peter had handed in +his papers Doctor Gilman asked him if he would prefer at once +to know the result. + +"I should indeed!" Peter assured him. + +"Then I regret to tell you, Hallowell," said the professor, +"that you have not passed. I cannot possibly give you a mark +higher than five." In real sympathy the sage of Stillwater +raised his eyes, but to his great astonishment he found that +Peter, so far from being cast down or taking offense, was +smiling delightedly, much as a fond parent might smile upon +the precocious act of a beloved child. + +"I am afraid," said Doctor Gilman gently, "that this summer +you did not work very hard for your degree!" + +Peter Laughed and picked up his hat. + +"To tell you the truth, Professor," he said, "you're right I +got working for something worth while--and I forgot about the +degree." + + + +Chapter 3. THE INVASION OF ENGLAND + +This is the true inside story of the invasion of England in +1911 by the Germans, and why it failed. I got my data from +Baron von Gottlieb, at the time military attaché of the +German Government with the Russian army in the second +Russian-Japanese War, when Russia drove Japan out of +Manchuria, and reduced her to a third-rate power. He told me +of his part in the invasion as we sat, after the bombardment +of Tokio, on the ramparts of the Emperor's palace, watching +the walls of the paper houses below us glowing and smoking +like the ashes of a prairie fire. + +Two years before, at the time of the invasion, von Gottlieb +had been Carl Schultz, the head-waiter at the East Cliff +Hotel at Cromer, and a spy. + +The other end of the story came to me through Lester Ford, +the London correspondent of the New York Republic. They gave +me permission to tell it in any fashion I pleased, and it is +here set down for the first time. + +In telling the story, my conscience is not in the least +disturbed, for I have yet to find any one who will believe +it. + +What led directly to the invasion was that some week-end +guest of the East Cliff Hotel left a copy of "The Riddle of +the Sands" in the coffee-room, where von Gottlieb found it; +and the fact that Ford attended the Shakespeare Ball. Had +neither of these events taken place, the German flag might +now be flying over Buckingham Palace. And, then again, it +might not. + +As every German knows, "The Riddle of the Sands" is a novel +written by a very clever Englishman in which is disclosed a +plan for the invasion of his country. According to this plan +an army of infantry was to be embarked in lighters, towed by +shallow-draft, sea-going tugs, and despatched simultaneously +from the seven rivers that form the Frisian Isles. From there +they were to be convoyed by battle-ships two hundred and +forty miles through the North Sea, and thrown upon the coast +of Norfolk somewhere between the Wash and Mundesley. The fact +that this coast is low-lying and bordered by sand flats which +at low water are dry, that England maintains no North Sea +squadron, and that her nearest naval base is at Chatham, seem +to point to it as the spot best adapted for such a raid. + +What von Gottlieb thought was evidenced by the fact that as +soon as he read the book he mailed it to the German +Ambassador in London, and under separate cover sent him a +letter. In this he said: "I suggest your Excellency bring +this book to the notice of a certain royal personage, and of +the Strategy Board. General Bolivar said, 'When you want +arms, take them from the enemy.' Does not this also follow +when you want ideas?" + +What the Strategy Board thought of the plan is a matter of +history. This was in 1910. A year later, during the +coronation week, Lester Ford went to Clarkson's to rent a +monk's robe in which to appear at the Shakespeare Ball, and +while the assistant departed in search of the robe, Ford was +left alone in a small room hung with full-length mirrors and +shelves, and packed with the uniforms that Clarkson rents for +Covent Garden balls and amateur theatricals. While waiting, +Ford gratified a long, secretly cherished desire to behold +himself as a military man, by trying on all the uniforms on +the lower shelves; and as a result, when the assistant +returned, instead of finding a young American in English +clothes and a high hat, he was confronted by a German officer +in a spiked helmet fighting a duel with himself in the +mirror. The assistant retreated precipitately, and Ford, +conscious that he appeared ridiculous, tried to turn the +tables by saying, " Does a German uniform always affect a +Territorial like that?" + +The assistant laughed good-naturedly. + +"It did give me quite a turn," he said. "It's this talk of +invasion, I fancy. But for a fact, sir, if I was a Coast +Guard, and you came along the beach dressed like that, I'd +take a shot at you, just on the chance, anyway." + +"And, quite right, too!" said Ford. + +He was wondering when the invasion did come whether he would +stick at his post in London and dutifully forward the news to +his paper, or play truant and as a war correspondent watch +the news in the making. So the words of Mr. Clarkson's +assistant did not sink in. But a few weeks later young Major +Bellew recalled them. Bellew was giving a dinner on the +terrace of the Savoy Restaurant. His guests were his nephew, +young Herbert, who was only five years younger than his +uncle, and Herbert's friend Birrell, an Irishman, both in +their third term at the university. After five years' service +in India, Bellew had spent the last "Eights" week at Oxford, +and was complaining bitterly that since his day the +undergraduate had deteriorated. He had found him serious, +given to study, far too well behaved. Instead of Jorrocks, he +read Galsworthy; instead of "wines" he found pleasure in +debating clubs where he discussed socialism. Ragging, +practical jokes, ingenious hoaxes, that once were wont to set +England in a roar, were a lost art. His undergraduate guests +combated these charges fiercely. His criticisms they declared +unjust and without intelligence. + +"You're talking rot!" said his dutiful nephew. "Take Phil +here, for example. I've roomed with him three years and I can +testify that he has never opened a book. He never heard of +Galsworthy until you spoke of him. And you can see for +yourself his table manners are quite as bad as yours!" + +"Worse!" assented Birrell loyally. + +"And as for ragging! What rags, in your day, were as good as +ours; as the Carrie Nation rag, for instance, when five +hundred people sat through a temperance lecture and never +guessed they were listening to a man from Balliol?" + +"And the Abyssinian Ambassador rag!" cried Herbert. "What +price that? When the DREADNOUGHT manned the yards for him and +gave him seventeen guns. That was an Oxford rag, and carried +through by Oxford men. The country hasn't stopped laughing +yet. You give us a rag!" challenged Herbert. " Make it as +hard as you like; something risky, something that will make +the country sit up, something that will send us all to jail, +and Phil and I will put it through whether it takes one man +or a dozen. Go on," he persisted, "And I bet we can get fifty +volunteers right here in town and all of them +undergraduates." + +"Give you the idea, yes!" mocked Bellew, trying to gain time. +"That's just what I say. You boys to-day are so dull. You +lack initiative. It's the idea that counts. Anybody can do +the acting. That's just amateur theatricals!" + +"Is it!" snorted Herbert. "If you want to know what stage +fright is, just go on board a British battle-ship with your +face covered with burnt cork and insist on being treated like +an ambassador. You'll find it's a little different from a +first night with the Simla Thespians!" + +Ford had no part in the debate. He had been smoking +comfortably and with well-timed nods, impartially encouraging +each disputant. But now he suddenly laid his cigar upon his +plate, and, after glancing quickly about him, leaned eagerly +forward. They were at the corner table of the terrace, and, +as it was now past nine o'clock, the other diners had +departed to the theatres and they were quite alone. Below +them, outside the open windows, were the trees of the +embankment, and beyond, the Thames, blocked to the west by +the great shadows of the Houses of Parliament, lit only by +the flame in the tower that showed the Lower House was still +sitting. + +"I'LL give you an idea for a rag," whispered Ford. "One that +is risky, that will make the country sit up, that ought to +land you in Jail? Have you read 'The Riddle of the Sands'?" + +Bellew and Herbert nodded; Birrell made no sign. + +" Don't mind him," exclaimed Herbert impatiently. "HE never +reads anything! Go on!" + +"It's the book most talked about," explained Ford. "And what +else is most talked about?" He answered his own question. +"The landing of the Germans in Morocco and the chance of war. +Now, I ask you, with that book in everybody's mind, and the +war scare in everybody's mind, what would happen if German +soldiers appeared to-night on the Norfolk coast just where +the book says they will appear? Not one soldier, but dozens +of soldiers; not in one place, but in twenty places?" + +"What would happen?" roared Major Bellew loyally. "The Boy +Scouts would fall out of bed and kick them into the sea!" + +"Shut up!" snapped his nephew irreverently. He shook Ford by +the arm. "How?" he demanded breathlessly. "How are we to do +it? It would take hundreds of men." + +"Two men," corrected Ford, "And a third man to drive the car. +I thought it out one day at Clarkson's when I came across a +lot of German uniforms. I thought of it as a newspaper story, +as a trick to find out how prepared you people are to meet +invasion. And when you said just now that you wanted a chance +to go to jail --" + +"What's your plan?" interrupted Birrell. + +"We would start just before dawn--" began Ford. + +"We?" demanded Herbert. "Are you in this?" + +"Am I in it?" cried Ford indignantly. "It's my own private +invasion! I'm letting you boys in on the ground floor. If I +don't go, there won t be any invasion!" + +The two pink-cheeked youths glanced at each other inquiringly +and then nodded. + +"We accept your services, sir," said Birrell gravely. "What's +your plan?" + +In astonishment Major Bellew glanced from one to the other +and then slapped the table with his open palm. His voice +shook with righteous indignation. + +"Of all the preposterous, outrageous--Are you mad?" he +demanded. "Do you suppose for one minute I will allow--" + +His nephew shrugged his shoulders and, rising, pushed back +his chair. + +"Oh, you go to the devil!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Come on, +Ford," he said. "We'll find some place where uncle can't hear +us." + +Two days later a touring car carrying three young men, in the +twenty-one miles between Wells and Cromer, broke down eleven +times. Each time this misfortune befell them one young man +scattered tools in the road and on his knees hammered +ostentatiously at the tin hood; and the other two occupants +of the car sauntered to the beach. There they chucked pebbles +at the waves and then slowly retraced their steps. Each time +the route by which they returned was different from the one +by which they had set forth. Sometimes they followed the +beaten path down the cliff or, as it chanced to be, across +the marshes; sometimes they slid down the face of the cliff; +sometimes they lost themselves behind the hedges and in the +lanes of the villages. But when they again reached the car +the procedure of each was alike--each produced a pencil and +on the face of his "Half Inch" road map traced strange, +fantastic signs. + +At lunch-time they stopped at the East Cliff Hotel at Cromer +and made numerous and trivial inquiries about the Cromer golf +links. They had come, they volunteered, from Ely for a day +of sea-bathing and golf; they were returning after dinner. +The head-waiter of the East Cliff Hotel gave them the +information they desired. He was an intelligent head-waiter, +young, and of pleasant, not to say distinguished, bearing. In +a frock coat he might easily have been mistaken for something +even more important than a head-waiter--for a German riding- +master, a leader of a Hungarian band, a manager of a Ritz +hotel. But he was not above his station. He even assisted the +porter in carrying the coats and golf bags of the gentlemen +from the car to the coffee-room where, with the intuition of +the homing pigeon, the three strangers had, unaided, found +their way. As Carl Schultz followed, carrying the dust-coats, +a road map fell from the pocket of one of them to the floor. +Carl Schultz picked it up, and was about to replace it, when +his eyes were held by notes scrawled roughly in pencil. With +an expression that no longer was that of a head-waiter, Carl +cast one swift glance about him and then slipped into the +empty coat-room and locked the door. Five minutes later, with +a smile that played uneasily over a face grown gray with +anxiety, Carl presented the map to the tallest of the three +strangers. It was open so that the pencil marks were most +obvious. By his accent it was evident the tallest of the +three strangers was an American. + +"What the devil!" he protested; "which of you boys has been +playing hob with my map?" + +For just an instant the two pink-cheeked ones regarded him +with disfavor; until, for just an instant, his eyebrows rose +and, with a glance, he signified the waiter. + +"Oh, that!" exclaimed the younger one. "The Automobile Club +asked us to mark down petrol stations. Those marks mean +that's where you can buy petrol." + +The head-waiter breathed deeply. With an assured and happy +countenance, he departed and, for the two-hundredth time that +day, looked from the windows of the dining-room out over the +tumbling breakers to the gray stretch of sea. As though +fearful that his face would expose his secret, he glanced +carefully about him and then, assured he was alone, leaned +eagerly forward, scanning the empty, tossing waters. + +In his mind's eye he beheld rolling tug-boats straining +against long lines of scows, against the dead weight of +field-guns, against the pull of thousands of motionless, +silent figures, each in khaki, each in a black leather +helmet, each with one hundred and fifty rounds. + +In his own language Carl Schultz reproved himself. + +"Patience," he muttered; "patience! By ten to-night all will +be dark. There will be no stars. There will be no moon. The +very heavens fight for us, and by sunrise our outposts will +be twenty miles inland!" + +At lunch-time Carl Schultz carefully, obsequiously waited +upon the three strangers. He gave them their choice of soup, +thick or clear, of gooseberry pie or Half-Pay pudding. He +accepted their shillings gratefully, and when they departed +for the links he bowed them on their way. And as their car +turned up Jetty Street, for one instant, he again allowed his +eyes to sweep the dull gray ocean. Brown-sailed fishing-boats +were beating in toward Cromer. On the horizon line a +Norwegian tramp was drawing a lengthening scarf of smoke. +Save for these the sea was empty. + +By gracious permission of the manageress Carl had obtained an +afternoon off, and, changing his coat, he mounted his bicycle +and set forth toward Overstrand. On his way he nodded to the +local constable, to the postman on his rounds, to the driver +of the char à banc. He had been a year in Cromer and was well +known and well liked. + +Three miles from Cromer, at the top of the highest hill in +Overstrand, the chimneys of a house showed above a thick +tangle of fir-trees. Between the trees and the road rose a +wall, high, compact, forbidding. Carl opened the gate in the +wall and pushed his bicycle up a winding path hemmed in by +bushes. At the sound of his feet on the gravel the bushes new +apart, and a man sprang into the walk and confronted him. +But, at sight of the head-waiter, the legs of the man became +rigid, his heels clicked together, his hand went sharply to +his visor. + +Behind the house, surrounded on every side by trees, was a +tiny lawn. In the centre of the lawn, where once had been a +tennis court, there now stood a slim mast. From this mast +dangled tiny wires that ran to a kitchen table. On the table, +its brass work shining in the sun, was a new and perfectly +good wireless outfit, and beside it, with his hand on the +key, was a heavily built, heavily bearded German. In his +turn, Carl drew his legs together, his heels clicked, his +hand stuck to his visor. + +"I have been in constant communication," said the man with +the beard. "They will be here just before the dawn. Return to +Cromer vand openly from the post-office telegraph your cousin +in London: 'Will meet you to-morrow at the Crystal Palace.' +On receipt of that, in the last edition of all of this +afternoon's papers, he will insert the final advertisement. +Thirty thousand of our own people will read it. They will +know the moment has come!" + +As Carl coasted back to Cromer he flashed past many pretty +gardens where, upon the lawns, men in flannels were busy at +tennis or, with pretty ladies, deeply occupied in drinking +tea. Carl smiled grimly. High above him on the sky-line of +the cliff he saw the three strangers he had served at +luncheon. They were driving before them three innocuous golf +balls. + +"A nation of wasters," muttered the German, "sleeping at +their posts. They are fiddling while England falls!" + +Mr. Shutliffe, of Stiffkey, had led his cow in from the +marsh, and was about to close the cow-barn door, when three +soldiers appeared suddenly around the wall of the village +church. They ran directly toward him. It was nine o'clock, +but the twilight still held. The uniforms the men wore were +unfamiliar, but in his day Mr. Shutliffe had seen many +uniforms, and to him all uniforms looked alike. The tallest +soldier snapped at Mr. Shutliffe fiercely in a strange +tongue. + +"Du bist gefangen!" he announced. "Das Dorf ist besetzt. Wo +sind unsere Leute?" he demanded. + +"You'll 'ave to excuse me, sir," said Mr. Shutliffe, "but I +am a trifle 'ard of 'earing." + +The soldier addressed him in English. + +"What is the name of this village?" he demanded. + +Mr. Shuttiffe, having lived in the village upward of eighty +years, recalled its name with difficulty. + +"Have you seen any of our people?" + +With another painful effort of memory Mr. Shutliffe shook his +head. + +"Go indoors!" commanded the soldier, "And put out all lights, +and remain indoors. We have taken this village. We are +Germans. You are a prisoner! Do you understand?" + +"Yes, sir, thank'ee, sir, kindly," stammered Mr. Shutliffe. +"May I lock in the pigs first, sir?" + +One of the soldiers coughed explosively, and ran away, and +the two others trotted after him. When they looked back, Mr. +Shutliffe was still standing uncertainly in the dusk, mildly +concerned as to whether he should lock up the pigs or obey +the German gentleman. + +The three soldiers halted behind the church wall. + +"That was a fine start!" mocked Herbert. "Of course, you had +to pick out the Village Idiot. If they are all going to take +it like that, we had better pack up and go home." + +"The village inn is still open," said Ford. "We'll close It." + +They entered with fixed bayonets and dropped the butts of +their rifles on the sanded floor. A man in gaiters choked +over his ale and two fishermen removed their clay pipes and +stared. The bar-maid alone arose to the occasion. + +"Now, then," she exclaimed briskly, "What way is that to come +tumbling into a respectable place? None of your tea-garden +tricks in here, young fellow, my lad, or --" + +The tallest of the three intruders, in deep guttural accents, +interrupted her sharply. + +"We are Germans!" he declared. "This village is captured. You +are prisoners of war. Those lights you will out put, and +yourselves lock in. If you into the street go, we will +shoot!" + +He gave a command in a strange language; so strange, indeed, +that the soldiers with him failed to entirely grasp his +meaning, and one shouldered his rifle, while the other +brought his politely to a salute. + +"You ass!" muttered the tall German. " Get out!" + +As they charged into the street, they heard behind them a +wild feminine shriek, then a crash of pottery and glass, then +silence, and an instant later the Ship Inn was buried in +darkness. + +"That will hold Stiffkey for a while!" said Ford. "Now, back +to the car." + +But between them and the car loomed suddenly a tall and +impressive figure. His helmet and his measured tread upon the +deserted cobble-stones proclaimed his calling. + +"The constable!" whispered Herbert. "He must see us, but he +mustn't speak to us." + +For a moment the three men showed themselves in the middle of +the street, and then, as though at sight of the policeman +they had taken alarm, disappeared through an opening between +two houses. Five minutes later a motor-car, with its canvas +top concealing its occupants, rode slowly into Stiffkey's +main street and halted before the constable. The driver of +the car wore a leather skull-cap and goggles. From his neck +to his heels he was covered by a raincoat. + +"Mr. Policeman," he began; " when I turned in here three +soldiers stepped in front of my car and pointed rifles at me. +Then they ran off toward the beach. What's the idea-- +manoeuvres? Because, they've no right to--" + +"Yes, sir," the policeman assured him promptly; "I saw them. +It's manoeuvres, sir. Territorials." + +"They didn't look like Territorials," objected the chauffeur. +"They looked like Germans." + +Protected by the deepening dusk, the constable made no effort +to conceal a grin. + +"Just Territorials, sir," he protested soothingly; +"skylarking maybe, but meaning no harm. Still, I'll have a +look round, and warn 'em." + +A voice from beneath the canvas broke in angrily: + +"I tell you, they were Germans. It's either a silly joke, or +it's serious, and you ought to report it. It's your duty to +warn the Coast Guard." + +The constable considered deeply. + +"I wouldn't take it on myself to wake the Coast Guard," he +protested; "not at this time of the night. But if any +Germans' been annoying you, gentlemen, and you wish to lodge +a complaint against them, you give me your cards--" + +"Ye gods!" cried the man in the rear of the car. "Go on!" he +commanded. + +As the car sped out of Stiffkey, Herbert exclaimed with +disgust: + +"What's the use!" he protested. "You couldn't wake these +people with dynamite! I vote we chuck it and go home." + +"They little know of England who only Stiffkey know," chanted +the chauffeur reprovingly. "Why, we haven't begun yet. Wait +till we meet a live wire!" + +Two miles farther along the road to Cromer, young Bradshaw, +the job-master's son at Blakeney, was leading his bicycle up +the hill. Ahead of him something heavy flopped from the bank +into the road--and in the light of his acetylene lamp he saw +a soldier. The soldier dodged across the road and scrambled +through the hedge on the bank opposite. He was followed by +another soldier, and then by a third. The last man halted. + +"Put out that light," he commanded. " Go to your home and +tell no one what you have seen. If you attempt to give an +alarm you will be shot. Our sentries are placed every fifty +yards along this road." + +The soldier disappeared from in front of the ray of light and +followed his comrades, and an instant later young Bradshaw +heard them sliding over the cliff's edge and the pebbles +clattering to the beach below. Young Bradshaw stood quite +still. In his heart was much fear--fear of laughter, of +ridicule, of failure. But of no other kind of fear. Softly, +silently he turned his bicycle so that it faced down the long +hill he had just climbed. Then he snapped off the light. He +had been reliably informed that in ambush at every fifty +yards along the road to Blakeney, sentries were waiting to +fire on him. And he proposed to run the gauntlet. He saw that +it was for this moment that, first as a volunteer and later +as a Territorial, he had drilled in the town hall, practiced +on the rifle range, and in mixed manoeuvres slept in six +inches of mud. As he threw his leg across his bicycle, +Herbert, from the motor-car farther up the hill, fired two +shots over his head. These, he explained to Ford, were +intended to give " verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and +unconvincing narrative." And the sighing of the bullets gave +young Bradshaw exactly what he wanted--the assurance that he +was not the victim of a practical joke. He threw his weight +forward and, lifting his feet, coasted downhill at forty +miles an hour into the main street of Blakeney. Ten minutes +later, when the car followed, a mob of men so completely +blocked the water-front that Ford was forced to stop. His +head-lights illuminated hundreds of faces, anxious, +sceptical, eager. A gentleman with a white mustache and a +look of a retired army officer pushed his way toward Ford, +the crowd making room for him, and then closing in his wake. + +"Have you seen any--any soldiers?" he demanded. + +"German soldiers!" Ford answered. "They tried to catch us, +but when I saw who they were, I ran through them to warn you. +They fired and--" + +"How many--and where?" + +"A half-company at Stiffkey and a half-mile farther on a +regiment. We didn't know then they were Germans, not until +they stopped us. You'd better telephone the garrison, and--" + +"Thank you!" snapped the elderly gentleman. "I happen to be +in command of this district. What are your names?" + +Ford pushed the car forward, parting the crowd. + +"I've no time for that!" he called. "We've got to warn every +coast town in Norfolk. You take my tip and get London on the +long distance!" + +As they ran through the night Ford spoke over his shoulder. + +"We've got them guessing," he said. "Now, what we want is a +live wire, some one with imagination, some one with authority +who will wake the countryside." + +"Looks ahead there," said Birrell, "as though it hadn't gone +to bed." + +Before them, as on a Mafeking night, every window in Cley +shone with lights. In the main street were fishermen, +shopkeepers, "trippers" in flannels, summer residents. The +women had turned out as though to witness a display of +fireworks. Girls were clinging to the arms of their escorts, +shivering in delighted terror. The proprietor of the Red Lion +sprang in front of the car and waved his arms. + +"What's this tale about Germans?" he demanded jocularly. + +"You can see their lights from the beach," said Ford. +"They've landed two regiments between here and Wells. +Stiffkey is taken, and they've cut all the wires south." + +The proprietor refused to be "had." + +"Let 'em all come!" he mocked. + +"All right," returned Ford. "Let 'em come, but don't take it +lying down! Get those women off the streets, and go down to +the beach, and drive the Germans back! Gangway," he shouted, +and the car shot forward. "We warned you," he called, "And +it's up to you to--" + +His words were lost in the distance. But behind him a man's +voice rose with a roar like a rocket and was met with a +savage, deep-throated cheer. + +Outside the village Ford brought the car to a halt and swung +in his seat. + +"This thing is going to fail!" he cried petulantly. "They +don't believe us. We've got to show ourselves--many times-- +in a dozen places." + +"The British mind moves slowly," said Birrell, the Irishman. +"Now, if this had happened in my native land--" + +He was interrupted by the screech of a siren, and a demon car +that spurned the road, that splattered them with pebbles, +tore past and disappeared in the darkness. As it fled down +the lane of their head-lights, they saw that men in khaki +clung to its sides, were packed in its tonneau, were swaying +from its running boards. Before they could find their voices +a motor cycle, driven as though the angel of death were at +the wheel, shaved their mud-guard and, in its turn, vanished +into the night. + +"Things are looking up!" said Ford. "Where is our next stop? +As I said before, what we want is a live one." + +Herbert pressed his electric torch against his road map. + +"We are next billed to appear," he said, "about a quarter of +a mile from here, at the signal-tower of the Great Eastern +Railroad, where we visit the night telegraph operator and +give him the surprise party of his life." + +The three men had mounted the steps of the signal-tower so +quietly that, when the operator heard them, they already +surrounded him. He saw three German soldiers with fierce +upturned mustaches, with flat, squat helmets, with long brown +rifles. They saw an anæmic, pale-faced youth without a coat +or collar, for the night was warm, who sank back limply in +his chair and gazed speechless with wide-bulging eyes. + +In harsh, guttural tones Ford addressed him. "You are a +prisoner," he said. "We take over this office in the name of +the German Emperor. Get out!" + +As though instinctively seeking his only weapon of defence, +the hand of the boy operator moved across the table to the +key of his instrument. Ford flung his rifle upon it. + +"No, you don't!" he growled. "Get out!" + +With eyes still bulging, the boy lifted himself into a +sitting posture. + +"My pay--my month's pay?" he stammered. "Can I take It?" + +The expression on the face of the conqueror relaxed. + +"Take it and get out," Ford commanded. + +With eyes still fixed in fascinated terror upon the invader, +the boy pulled open the drawer of the table before him and +fumbled with the papers inside. + +"Quick!" cried Ford. + +The boy was very quick. His hand leaped from the drawer like +a snake, and Ford found himself looking into a revolver of +the largest calibre issued by a civilized people. Birrell +fell upon the boy's shoulders, Herbert twisted the gun from +his fingers and hurled it through the window, and almost as +quickly hurled himself down the steps of the tower. Birrell +leaped after him. Ford remained only long enough to shout: +"Don't touch that instrument! If you attempt to send a +message through, we will shoot. We go to cut the wires!" + +For a minute, the boy in the tower sat rigid, his ears +strained, his heart beating in sharp, suffocating stabs. +Then, with his left arm raised to guard his face, he sank to +his knees and, leaning forward across the table, inviting as +he believed his death, he opened the circuit and through the +night flashed out a warning to his people. + +When they had taken their places in the car, Herbert touched +Ford on the shoulder. + +"Your last remark," he said, " was that what we wanted was a +live one." + +"Don't mention it!" said Ford. "He jammed that gun half down +my throat. I can taste it still. Where do we go from here?" + +"According to the route we mapped out this afternoon," said +Herbert, "We are now scheduled to give exhibitions at the +coast towns of Salthouse and Weybourne, but--" + +"Not with me!" exclaimed Birrell fiercely. "Those towns have +been tipped off by now by Blakeney and Cley, and the Boy +Scouts would club us to death. I vote we take the back roads +to Morston, and drop in on a lonely Coast Guard. If a Coast +Guard sees us, the authorities will have to believe him, and +they'll call out the navy." + +Herbert consulted his map. + +"There is a Coast Guard," he said, "stationed just the other +side of Morston. And," he added fervently, "let us hope he's +lonely." + +They lost their way in the back roads, and when they again +reached the coast an hour had passed. It was now quite dark. +There were no stars, nor moon, but after they had left the +car in a side lane and had stepped out upon the cliff, they +saw for miles along the coast great beacon fires burning +fiercely. + +Herbert came to an abrupt halt. + +"Since seeing those fires," he explained, "I feel a strange +reluctance about showing myself in this uniform to a Coast +Guard." + +"Coast Guards don't shoot!" mocked Birrell. "They only look +at the clouds through a telescope. Three Germans with rifles +ought to be able to frighten one Coast Guard with a +telescope." + +The whitewashed cabin of the Coast Guard was perched on the +edge of the cliff. Behind it the downs ran back to meet the +road. The door of the cabin was open and from it a shaft of +light cut across a tiny garden and showed the white fence and +the walk of shells. v + +"We must pass in single file in front of that light," +whispered Ford, "And then, after we are sure he has seen us, +we must run like the devil!" + +"I'm on in that last scene," growled Herbert. + +"Only," repeated Ford with emphasis, "We must be sure he has +seen us." + +Not twenty feet from them came a bursting roar, a flash, many +roars, many flashes, many bullets. + +"He's seen us!" yelled Birrell. + +After the light from his open door had shown him one German +soldier fully armed, the Coast Guard had seen nothing +further. But judging from the shrieks of terror and the +sounds of falling bodies that followed his first shot, he was +convinced he was hemmed in by an army, and he proceeded to +sell his life dearly. Clip after clip of cartridges he +emptied into the night, now to the front, now to the rear, +now out to sea, now at his own shadow in the lamp-light. To +the people a quarter of a mile away at Morston it sounded +like a battle. + +After running half a mile, Ford, bruised and breathless, fell +at full length on the grass beside the car. Near it, tearing +from his person the last vestiges of a German uniform, he +found Birrell. He also was puffing painfully. + +"What happened to Herbert?" panted Ford. + +"I don't know," gasped Birrell, "When I saw him last he was +diving over the cliff into the sea. How many times did you +die?" + +"About twenty!" groaned the American, "And, besides being +dead, I am severely wounded. Every time he fired, I fell on +my face, and each time I hit a rock!" + +A scarecrow of a figure appeared suddenly in the rays of the +head-lights. It was Herbert, scratched, bleeding, dripping +with water, and clad simply in a shirt and trousers. He +dragged out his kit bag and fell into his golf clothes. + +"Anybody who wants a perfectly good German uniform," he +cried, "can have mine. I left it in the first row of +breakers. It didn't fit me, anyway." + +The other two uniforms were hidden in the seat of the car. +The rifles and helmets, to lend color to the invasion, were +dropped in the open road, and five minutes later three +gentlemen in inconspicuous Harris tweeds, and with golf clubs +protruding from every part of their car, turned into the +shore road to Cromer. What they saw brought swift terror to +their guilty souls and the car to an abrupt halt. Before them +was a regiment of regulars advancing in column of fours, at +the " double." An officer sprang to the front of the car and +seated himself beside Ford. + +"I'll have to commandeer this," he said. "Run back to +Cromer. Don't crush my men, but go like the devil!" + +"We heard firing here," explained the officer " at the Coast +Guard station. The Guard drove them back to the sea. He +counted over a dozen. They made pretty poor practice, for he +isn't wounded, but his gravel walk looks as though some one +had drawn a harrow over it. I wonder," exclaimed the officer +suddenly, "if you are the three gentlemen who first gave the +alarm to Colonel Raglan and then went on to warn the other +coast towns. Because, if you are, he wants your names." + +Ford considered rapidly. If he gave false names and that fact +were discovered, they would be suspected and investigated, +and the worst might happen. So he replied that his friends +and himself probably were the men to whom the officer +referred. He explained they had been returning from Cromer, +where they had gone to play golf, when they had been held up +by the Germans. + +"You were lucky to escape," said the officer "And in keeping +on to give warning you were taking chances. If I may say so, +we think you behaved extremely well." + +Ford could not answer. His guilty conscience shamed him into +silence. With his siren shrieking and his horn tooting, he +was forcing the car through lanes of armed men. They packed +each side of the road. They were banked behind the hedges. +Their camp-fires blazed from every hill-top. + +"Your regiment seems to have turned out to a man!" exclaimed +Ford admiringly. + +"MY regiment!" snorted the officer. "You've passed through +five regiments already, and there are as many more in the +dark places. They're everywhere!" he cried jubilantly. + +"And I thought they were only where you see the camp-fires," +exclaimed Ford. + +"That's what the Germans think," said the officer. "It's +working like a clock," he cried happily. "There hasn't been a +hitch. As soon as they got your warning to Colonel Raglan, +they came down to the coast like a wave, on foot, by trains, +by motors, and at nine o'clock the Government took over all +the railroads. The county regiments, regulars, yeomanry, +territorials, have been spread along this shore for thirty +miles. Down in London the Guards started to Dover and +Brighton two hours ago. The Automobile Club in the first hour +collected two hundred cars and turned them over to the Guards +in Bird Cage Walk. Cody and Grahame-White and eight of his +air men left Hendon an hour ago to reconnoitre the south +coast. Admiral Beatty has started with the Channel Squadron +to head off the German convoy in the North Sea, and the +torpedo destroyers have been sent to lie outside of +Heligoland. We'll get that back by daylight. And on land +every one of the three services is under arms. On this coast +alone before sunrise we'll have one hundred thousand men, and +from Colchester the brigade division of artillery, from +Ipswich the R. H. A.'s with siege-guns, field-guns, quick- +firing-guns, all kinds of guns spread out over every foot of +ground from here to Hunstanton. They thought they'd give us a +surprise party. They will never give us another surprise +party!" + +On the top of the hill at Overstrand, the headwaiter of the +East Cliff Hotel and the bearded German stood in the garden +back of the house with the forbidding walls. From the road in +front came unceasingly the tramp and shuffle of thousands of +marching feet, the rumble of heavy cannon, the clanking of +their chains, the voices of men trained to command raised in +sharp, confident orders. The sky was illuminated by countless +fires. Every window of every cottage and hotel blazed with +lights. The night had been turned into day. The eyes of the +two Germans were like the eyes of those who had passed +through an earthquake, of those who looked upon the burning +of San Francisco, upon the destruction of Messina. + +"We were betrayed, general," whispered the head-waiter. + +"We were betrayed, baron," replied the bearded one. + +"But you were in time to warn the flotilla." + +With a sigh, the older man nodded. + +"The last message I received over the wireless," he said, +"before I destroyed it, read, 'Your message understood. We +are returning. Our movements will be explained as manoeuvres. +And," added the general, "The English, having driven us back, +will be willing to officially accept that explanation. As +manoeuvres, this night will go down into history. Return to +the hotel," he commanded, "And in two months you can rejoin +your regiment." + +On the morning after the invasion the New York Republic +published a map of Great Britain that covered three columns +and a wood-cut of Ford that was spread over five. Beneath it +was printed: "Lester Ford, our London correspondent, captured +by the Germans; he escapes and is the first to warn the +English people." + +On the same morning, In an editorial in The Times of London, +appeared this paragraph: + +"The Germans were first seen by the Hon. Arthur Herbert, the +eldest son of Lord Cinaris; Mr. Patrick Headford Birrell-- +both of Balliol College, Oxford; and Mr. Lester Ford, the +correspondent of the New York Republic. These gentlemen +escaped from the landing party that tried to make them +prisoners, and at great risk proceeded in their motor-car +over roads infested by the Germans to all the coast towns of +Norfolk, warning the authorities. Should the war office fail +to recognize their services, the people of Great Britain will +prove that they are not ungrateful." + +A week later three young men sat at dinner on the terrace of +the Savoy. + +"Shall we, or shall we not," asked Herbert, "tell my uncle +that we three, and we three alone, were the invaders?" + +"That's hardly correct," said Ford, "as we now know there +were two hundred thousand invaders. We were the only three +who got ashore." + +"I vote we don't tell him," said Birrell. "Let him think with +everybody else that the Germans blundered; that an advance +party landed too soon and gave the show away. If we talk," he +argued, "We'll get credit for a successful hoax. If we keep +quiet, everybody will continue to think we saved England. I'm +content to let it go at that." + + + +Chapter 4. BLOOD WILL TELL + +David Greene was an employee of the Burdett Automatic Punch +Company. The manufacturing plant of the company was at +Bridgeport, but in the New York offices there were working +samples of all the punches, from the little nickel-plated hand +punch with which conductors squeezed holes in railroad tickets, +to the big punch that could bite into an iron plate as easily as +into a piece of pie. David's duty was to explain these different +punches, and accordingly when Burdett Senior or one of the sons +turned a customer over to David he spoke of him as a salesman. +But David called himself a "demonstrator." For a short time he +even succeeded in persuading the other salesmen to speak of +themselves as demonstrators, but the shipping clerks and +bookkeepers laughed them out of it. They could not laugh David +out of it. This was so, partly because he had no sense of humor, +and partly because he had a great-great-grandfather. Among the +salesmen on lower Broadway, to possess a great-great-grandfather +is unusual, even a great-grandfather is a rarity, and either is +considered superfluous. But to David the possession of a +great-great-grandfather was a precious and open delight. He had +possessed him only for a short time. Undoubtedly he always had +existed, but it was not until David's sister Anne married a +doctor in Bordentown, New Jersey, and became socially ambitious, +that David emerged as a Son of Washington. + +It was sister Anne, anxious to "get in" as a "Daughter" and wear +a distaff pin in her shirtwaist, who discovered the revolutionary +ancestor. She unearthed him, or rather ran him to earth, in the +graveyard of the Presbyterian church at Bordentown. He was no +less a person than General Hiram Greene, and he had fought with +Washington at Trenton and at Princeton. Of this there was no +doubt. That, later, on moving to New York, his descendants became +peace-loving salesmen did not affect his record. To enter a +society founded on heredity, the important thing is first to +catch your ancestor, and having made sure of him, David entered +the Society of the Sons of Washington with flying colors. He was +not unlike the man who had been speaking prose for forty years +without knowing it. He was not unlike the other man who woke to +find himself famous. He had gone to bed a timid, near-sighted, +underpaid salesman without a relative in the world, except a +married sister in Bordentown, and he awoke to find he was a +direct descendant of "Neck or Nothing" Greene, a revolutionary +hero, a friend of Washington, a man whose portrait hung in the +State House at Trenton. David's life had lacked color. The day he +carried his certificate of membership to the big jewelry store +uptown and purchased two rosettes, one for each of his two coats, +was the proudest of his life. + +The other men in the Broadway office took a different view. As +Wyckoff, one of Burdett's flying squadron of travelling salesmen, +said, "All grandfathers look alike to me, whether they're great, +or great-great-great. Each one is as dead as the other. I'd +rather have a live cousin who could loan me a five, or slip me a +drink. What did your great-great dad ever do for you?" + +"Well, for one thing," said David stiffly, "he fought in the War +of the Revolution. He saved us from the shackles of monarchical +England; he made it possible for me and you to enjoy the +liberties of a free republic." + +"Don't try to tell me your grandfather did all that," protested +Wyckoff, "because I know better. There were a lot of others +helped. I read about it in a book." + +"I am not grudging glory to others," returned David; "I am only +saying I am proud that I am a descendant of a revolutionist." + +Wyckoff dived into his inner pocket and produced a leather +photograph frame that folded like a concertina. + +"I don't want to be a descendant," he said; "I'd rather be an +ancestor. Look at those." Proudly he exhibited photographs of +Mrs. Wyckoff with the baby and of three other little Wyckoffs. +David looked with envy at the children. + +"When I'm married," he stammered, and at the words he blushed, "I +hope to be an ancestor." + +"If you're thinking of getting married," said Wyckoff, "you'd +better hope for a raise in salary." + +The other clerks were as unsympathetic as Wyckoff. At first when +David showed them his parchment certificate, and his silver gilt +insignia with on one side a portrait of Washington, and on the +other a Continental soldier, they admitted it was dead swell. +They even envied him, not the grandfather, but the fact that +owing to that distinguished relative David was constantly +receiving beautifully engraved invitations to attend the monthly +meetings of the society; to subscribe to a fund to erect +monuments on battle-fields to mark neglected graves; to join in +joyous excursions to the tomb of Washington or of John Paul +Jones; to inspect West Point, Annapolis, and Bunker Hill; to be +among those present at the annual "banquet" at Delmonico's. In +order that when he opened these letters he might have an +audience, he had given the society his office address. + +In these communications he was always addressed as "Dear +Compatriot," and never did the words fail to give him a thrill. +They seemed to lift him out of Burdett's salesrooms and Broadway, +and place him next to things uncommercial, untainted, high, and +noble. He did not quite know what an aristocrat was, but be +believed being a compatriot made him an aristocrat. When +customers were rude, when Mr. John or Mr. Robert was overbearing, +this idea enabled David to rise above their ill-temper, and he +would smile and say to himself: "If they knew the meaning of the +blue rosette in my button-hole, how differently they would treat +me! How easily with a word could I crush them!" + +But few of the customers recognized the significance of the +button. They thought it meant that David belonged to the Y. M. C. +A. or was a teetotaler. David, with his gentle manners and pale, +ascetic face, was liable to give that impression. + +When Wyckoff mentioned marriage, the reason David blushed was +because, although no one in the office suspected it, he wished to +marry the person in whom the office took the greatest pride. This +was Miss Emily Anthony, one of Burdett and Sons' youngest, most +efficient, and prettiest stenographers, and although David did +not cut as dashing a figure as did some of the firm's travelling +men, Miss Anthony had found something in him so greatly to admire +that she had, out of office hours, accepted his devotion, his +theatre tickets, and an engagement ring. Indeed, so far had +matters progressed, that it had been almost decided when in a few +months they would go upon their vacations they also would go upon +their honeymoon. And then a cloud had come between them, and from +a quarter from which David had expected only sunshine. + +The trouble befell when David discovered he had a great- +great-grandfather. With that fact itself Miss Anthony was almost +as pleased as was David himself, but while he was content to bask +in another's glory, Miss Anthony saw in his inheritance only an +incentive to achieve glory for himself. + +From a hard-working salesman she had asked but little, but from +a descendant of a national hero she expected other things. She +was a determined young person, and for David she was an ambitious +young person. She found she was dissatisfied. She found she was +disappointed. The great-great-grandfather had opened up a new +horizon--had, in a way, raised the standard. She was as fond of +David as always, but his tales of past wars and battles, his +accounts of present banquets at which he sat shoulder to shoulder +with men of whom even Burdett and Sons spoke with awe, touched +her imagination. + +"You shouldn't be content to just wear a button," she urged. "If +you're a Son of Washington, you ought to act like one." + +"I know I'm not worthy of you," David sighed. + +"I don't mean that, and you know I don't," Emily replied +indignantly. "It has nothing to do with me! I want you to be +worthy of yourself, of your grandpa Hiram!" + +"But HOW?" complained David. "What chance has a twenty-five +dollar a week clerk--" + +It was a year before the Spanish-American War, while the patriots +of Cuba were fighting the mother country for their independence. + +"If I were a Son of the Revolution," said Emily, "I'd go to Cuba +and help free it." + +"Don't talk nonsense," cried David. "If I did that I'd lose my +job, and we'd never be able to marry. Besides, what's Cuba done +for me? All I know about Cuba is, I once smoked a Cuban cigar and +it made me ill." + +"Did Lafayette talk like that?" demanded Emily. "Did he ask what +have the American rebels ever done for me?" + +"If I were in Lafayette's class," sighed David, "I wouldn't be +selling automatic punches." + +"There's your trouble," declared Emily "You lack self- +confidence. You're too humble, you've got fighting blood and you +ought to keep saying to yourself, 'Blood will tell,' and the +first thing you know, it WILL tell! You might begin by going into +politics in your ward. Or, you could join the militia. That takes +only one night a week, and then, if we DID go to war with Spain, +you'd get a commission, and come back a captain!" + +Emily's eyes were beautiful with delight. But the sight gave +David no pleasure. In genuine distress, he shook his head. + +"Emily," he said, "you're going to be awfully disappointed in +me." + +Emily's eyes closed as though they shied at some mental picture. +But when she opened them they were bright, and her smile was kind +and eager. + +"No, I'm not," she protested; "only I want a husband with a +career, and one who'll tell me to keep quiet when I try to run it +for him." + +"I've often wished you would," said David. + +"Would what? Run your career for you?" + +"No, keep quiet. Only it didn't seem polite to tell you so." + +"Maybe I'd like you better," said Emily, "if you weren't so +darned polite." + +A week later, early in the spring of 1897, the unexpected +happened, and David was promoted into the flying squadron. He now +was a travelling salesman, with a rise in salary and a commission +on orders. It was a step forward, but as going on the road meant +absence from Emily, David was not elated. Nor did it satisfy +Emily. It was not money she wanted. Her ambition for David could +not be silenced with a raise in wages. She did not say this, but +David knew that in him she still found something lacking, and +when they said good-by they both were ill at ease and completely +unhappy. Formerly, each day when Emily in passing David in the +office said good-morning, she used to add the number of the days +that still separated them from the vacation which also was to be +their honeymoon. But, for the last month she had stopped counting +the days--at least she did not count them aloud. + +David did not ask her why this was so. He did not dare. And, +sooner than learn the truth that she had decided not to marry +him, or that she was even considering not marrying him, he asked +no questions, but in ignorance of her present feelings set forth +on his travels. Absence from Emily hurt just as much as he had +feared it would. He missed her, needed her, longed for her. In +numerous letters he told her so. But, owing to the frequency with +which he moved, her letters never caught up with him. It was +almost a relief. He did not care to think of what they might tell +him. + +The route assigned David took him through the South and kept him +close to the Atlantic seaboard. In obtaining orders he was not +unsuccessful, and at the end of the first month received from the +firm a telegram of congratulation. This was of importance chiefly +because it might please Emily. But he knew that in her eyes the +great-great-grandson of Hiram Greene could not rest content with +a telegram from Burdett and Sons. A year before she would have +considered it a high honor, a cause for celebration. Now, he +could see her press her pretty lips together and shake her pretty +head. It was not enough. But how could he accomplish more. He +began to hate his great-great-grandfather. He began to wish Hiram +Greene had lived and died a bachelor. + +And then Dame Fortune took David in hand and toyed with him and +spanked him, and pelted and petted him, until finally she made +him her favorite son. Dame Fortune went about this work in an +abrupt and arbitrary manner. + +On the night of the 1st of March, 1897, two trains were scheduled +to leave the Union Station at Jacksonville at exactly the same +minute, and they left exactly on time. As never before in the +history of any Southern railroad has this miracle occurred, it +shows that when Dame Fortune gets on the job she is omnipotent. +She placed David on the train to Miami as the train he wanted +drew out for Tampa, and an hour later, when the conductor looked +at David's ticket, he pulled the bell-cord and dumped David over +the side into the heart of a pine forest. If he walked back along +the track for one mile, the conductor reassured him, he would +find a flag station where at midnight he could flag a train going +north. In an hour it would deliver him safely in Jacksonville. + +There was a moon, but for the greater part of the time it was +hidden by fitful, hurrying clouds, and, as David stumbled +forward, at one moment he would see the rails like streaks of +silver, and the next would be encompassed in a complete and +bewildering darkness. He made his way from tie to tie only by +feeling with his foot. After an hour he came to a shed. Whether +it was or was not the flag station the conductor had in mind, he +did not know, and he never did know. He was too tired, too hot, +and too disgusted to proceed, and dropping his suit case he sat +down under the open roof of the shed prepared to wait either for +the train or daylight. So far as he could see, on every side of +him stretched a swamp, silent, dismal, interminable. From its +black water rose dead trees, naked of bark and hung with +streamers of funereal moss. There was not a sound or sign of +human habitation. The silence was the silence of the ocean at +night David remembered the berth reserved for him on the train to +Tampa and of the loathing with which he had considered placing +himself between its sheets. But now how gladly would he welcome +it! For, in the sleeping-car, ill-smelling, close, and stuffy, he +at least would have been surrounded by fellow-sufferers of his +own species. Here his companions were owls, water-snakes, and +sleeping buzzards. + +I am alone," he told himself, "on a railroad embankment, entirely +surrounded by alligators." + +And then he found he was not alone. + +In the darkness, illuminated by a match, not a hundred yards from +him there flashed suddenly the face of a man. Then the match went +out and the face with it. David noted that it had appeared at +some height above the level of the swamp, at an elevation higher +even than that of the embankment. It was as though the man had +been sitting on the limb of a tree. David crossed the tracks and +found that on the side of the embankment opposite the shed there +was solid ground and what once had been a wharf. He advanced over +this cautiously, and as he did so the clouds disappeared, and in +the full light of the moon he saw a bayou broadening into a +river, and made fast to the decayed and rotting wharf an +ocean-going tug. It was from her deck that the man, in lighting +his pipe, had shown his face. At the thought of a warm +engine-room and the company of his fellow creatures, David's +heart leaped with pleasure. He advanced quickly. And then +something in the appearance of the tug, something mysterious, +secretive, threatening, caused him to halt. No lights showed from +her engine-room, cabin, or pilot-house. Her decks were empty. +But, as was evidenced by the black smoke that rose from her +funnel, she was awake and awake to some purpose. David stood +uncertainly, questioning whether to make his presence known or +return to the loneliness of the shed. The question was decided +for him. He had not considered that standing in the moonlight he +was a conspicuous figure. The planks of the wharf creaked and a +man came toward him. As one who means to attack, or who fears +attack, he approached warily. He wore high boots, riding +breeches, and a sombrero. He was a little man, but his movements +were alert and active. To David he seemed unnecessarily excited. +He thrust himself close against David. + +"Who the devil are you?" demanded the man from the tug. "How'd +you get here?" + +"I walked," said David. + +"Walked?" the man snorted incredulously. + +"I took the wrong train," explained David pleasantly. "They put +me off about a mile below here. I walked back to this flag +station. I'm going to wait here for the next train north." + +The little man laughed mockingly. + +"Oh, no you're not," he said. "If you walked here, you can just +walk away again!" With a sweep of his arm, he made a vigorous and +peremptory gesture. + +"You walk!" he commanded. + +"I'll do just as I please about that," said David. + +As though to bring assistance, the little man started hastily +toward the tug. + +"I'll find some one who'll make you walk!" he called. "You WAIT, +that's all, you WAIT!" + +David decided not to wait. It was possible the wharf was private +property and he had been trespassing. In any case, at the flag +station the rights of all men were equal, and if he were in for a +fight he judged it best to choose his own battle-ground. He +recrossed the tracks and sat down on his suit case in a dark +corner of the shed. Himself hidden in the shadows he could see in +the moonlight the approach of any other person. + +"They're river pirates," said David to himself, "or smugglers. +They're certainly up to some mischief, or why should they object +to the presence of a perfectly harmless stranger?" + +Partly with cold, partly with nervousness, David shivered. + +"I wish that train would come," he sighed. And instantly? as +though in answer to his wish, from only a short distance down the +track he heard the rumble and creak of approaching cars. In a +flash David planned his course of action. + +The thought of spending the night in a swamp infested by +alligators and smugglers had become intolerable. He must escape, +and he must escape by the train now approaching. To that end the +train must be stopped. His plan was simple. The train was moving +very, very slowly, and though he had no lantern to wave, in order +to bring it to a halt he need only stand on the track exposed to +the glare of the headlight and wave his arms. David sprang +between the rails and gesticulated wildly. But in amazement his +arms fell to his sides. For the train, now only a hundred yards +distant and creeping toward him at a snail's pace, carried no +head-light, and though in the moonlight David was plainly +visible, it blew no whistle, tolled no bell. Even the passenger +coaches in the rear of the sightless engine were wrapped in +darkness. It was a ghost of a train, a Flying Dutchman of a +train, a nightmare of a train. It was as unreal as the black +swamp, as the moss on the dead trees, as the ghostly tug-boat +tied to the rotting wharf. + +"Is the place haunted!" exclaimed David. + +He was answered by the grinding of brakes and by the train coming +to a sharp halt. And instantly from every side men fell from it +to the ground, and the silence of the night was broken by a +confusion of calls and eager greeting and questions and sharp +words of command. + +So fascinated was David in the stealthy arrival of the train and +in her mysterious passengers that, until they confronted him, he +did not note the equally stealthy approach of three men. Of these +one was the little man from the tug. With him was a fat, red-faced +Irish-American He wore no coat and his shirt-sleeves were drawn +away from his hands by garters of pink elastic, his derby hat was +balanced behind his ears, upon his right hand flashed an enormous +diamond. He looked as though but at that moment he had stopped +sliding glasses across a Bowery bar. The third man carried the +outward marks of a sailor. David believed he was the tallest man +he had ever beheld, but equally remarkable with his height was +his beard and hair, which were of a fierce brick-dust red. Even +in the mild moonlight it flamed like a torch. + +"What's your business?" demanded the man with the flamboyant +hair. + +"I came here," began David, "to wait for a train--" + +The tall man bellowed with indignant rage. + +"Yes," he shouted; "this is the sort of place any one would pick +out to wait for a train!" + +In front of David's nose he shook a fist as large as a catcher's +glove. "Don't you lie to ME!" he bullied. "Do you know who I am? +Do you know WHO you're up against? I'm--" + +The barkeeper person interrupted. + +"Never mind who you are," he said. "We know that. Find out who HE +is." + +David turned appealingly to the barkeeper. + +"Do you suppose I'd come here on purpose?" he protested. "I'm a +travelling man--" + +"You won't travel any to-night," mocked the red-haired one. +"You've seen what you came to see, and all you want now is to get +to a Western Union wire. Well, you don't do it. You don't leave +here to-night!" + +As though he thought he had been neglected, the little man in +riding-boots pushed forward importantly. + +"Tie him to a tree!" he suggested. + +"Better take him on board," said the barkeeper, "and send him +back by the pilot. When we're once at sea, he can't hurt us any." + +"What makes you think I want to hurt you?" demanded David. "Who +do you think I am?" + +"We know who you are," shouted the fiery-headed one. "You're a +blanketty-blank spy! You're a government spy or a Spanish spy, +and whichever you are you don't get away to-night!" + +David had not the faintest idea what the man meant, but he knew +his self-respect was being ill-treated, and his self-respect +rebelled. + +"You have made a very serious mistake," he said, "and whether you +like it or not, I AM leaving here to-night, and YOU can go to the +devil!" + +Turning his back David started with great dignity to walk away. +It was a short walk. Something hit him below the ear and he found +himself curling up comfortably on the ties. He had a strong +desire to sleep, but was conscious that a bed on a railroad +track, on account of trains wanting to pass, was unsafe. This +doubt did not long disturb him. His head rolled against the steel +rail, his limbs relaxed. From a great distance, and in a strange +sing-song he heard the voice of the barkeeper saying, +"Nine--ten--and OUT!" + +When David came to his senses his head was resting on a coil of +rope. In his ears was the steady throb of an engine, and in his +eyes the glare of a lantern. The lantern was held by a +pleasant-faced youth in a golf cap who was smiling +sympathetically. David rose on his elbow and gazed wildly about +him. He was in the bow of the ocean-going tug, and he saw that +from where he lay in the bow to her stern her decks were packed +with men. She was steaming swiftly down a broad river. On either +side the gray light that comes before the dawn showed low banks +studded with stunted palmettos. Close ahead David heard the roar +of the surf. + +"Sorry to disturb you," said the youth in the golf cap, "but we +drop the pilot in a few minutes and you're going with him." + +David moved his aching head gingerly, and was conscious of a bump +as large as a tennis ball behind his right ear. + +"What happened to me?" he demanded. + +"You were sort of kidnapped, I guess," laughed the young man. "It +was a raw deal, but they couldn't take any chances. The pilot +will land you at Okra Point. You can hire a rig there to take you +to the railroad." + +"But why?" demanded David indignantly. "Why was I kidnapped? What +had I done? Who were those men who--" + +From the pilot-house there was a sharp jangle of bells to the +engine-room, and the speed of the tug slackened. + +"Come on," commanded the young man briskly. "The pilot's going +ashore. Here's your grip, here's your hat. The ladder's on the +port side. Look where you're stepping. We can't show any lights, +and it's dark as--" + +But, even as he spoke, like a flash of powder, as swiftly as one +throws an electric switch, as blindingly as a train leaps from +the tunnel into the glaring sun, the darkness vanished and the +tug was swept by the fierce, blatant radiance of a search-light. + +It was met by shrieks from two hundred throats, by screams, +oaths, prayers, by the sharp jangling of bells, by the blind rush +of many men scurrying like rats for a hole to hide in, by the +ringing orders of one man. Above the tumult this one voice rose +like the warning strokes of a fire-gong, and looking up to the +pilot-house from whence the voice came, David saw the barkeeper +still in his shirt-sleeves and with his derby hat pushed back +behind his ears, with one hand clutching the telegraph to the +engine-room, with the other holding the spoke of the wheel. + +David felt the tug, like a hunter taking a fence, rise in a great +leap. Her bow sank and rose, tossing the water from her in black, +oily waves, the smoke poured from her funnel, from below her +engines sobbed and quivered, and like a hound freed from a leash +she raced for the open sea. But swiftly as she fled, as a thief +is held in the circle of a policeman's bull's-eye, the shaft of +light followed and exposed her and held her in its grip. The +youth in the golf cap was clutching David by the arm. With his +free hand he pointed down the shaft of light. So great was the +tumult that to be heard he brought his lips close to David's ear. + +"That's the revenue cutter!" he shouted. "She's been laying for +us for three weeks, and now," he shrieked exultingly, "the old +man's going to give her a race for it." + +From excitement, from cold, from alarm, David's nerves were +getting beyond his control. + +"But how," he demanded, "how do I get ashore?" + +"You don't!" + +"When he drops the pilot, don't I--" + +"How can he drop the pilot?" yelled the youth. "The pilot's got +to stick by the boat. So have you." + +David clutched the young man and swung him so that they stood +face to face. + +"Stick by what boat?" yelled David. "Who are these men? Who are +you? What boat is this?" + +In the glare of the search-light David saw the eyes of the youth +staring at him as though he feared he were in the clutch of a +madman. Wrenching himself free, the youth pointed at the +pilot-house. Above it on a blue board in letters of gold-leaf a +foot high was the name of the tug. As David read it his breath +left him, a finger of ice passed slowly down his spine. The name +he read was The Three Friends. + +"THE THREE FRIENDS!" shrieked David. "She's a filibuster! She's a +pirate! Where're we going? + +"To Cuba!" + +David emitted a howl of anguish, rage, and protest. + +"What for?" he shrieked. + +The young man regarded him coldly. + +"To pick bananas," he said. + +"I won't go to Cuba," shouted David. "I've got to work! I'm paid +to sell machinery. I demand to be put ashore. I'll lose my job if +I'm not put ashore. I'll sue you! I'll have the law--" + +David found himself suddenly upon his knees. His first thought +was that the ship had struck a rock, and then that she was +bumping herself over a succession of coral reefs. She dipped, +dived, reared, and plunged. Like a hooked fish, she flung herself +in the air, quivering from bow to stern. No longer was David of a +mind to sue the filibusters if they did not put him ashore. If +only they had put him ashore, in gratitude he would have crawled +on his knees. What followed was of no interest to David, nor to +many of the filibusters, nor to any of the Cuban patriots. Their +groans of self-pity, their prayers and curses in eloquent +Spanish, rose high above the crash of broken crockery and the +pounding of the waves. Even when the search-light gave way to a +brilliant sunlight the circumstance was unobserved by David. Nor +was he concerned in the tidings brought forward by the youth in +the golf cap, who raced the slippery decks and vaulted the +prostrate forms as sure-footedly as a hurdler on a cinder track. +To David, in whom he seemed to think he had found a congenial +spirit, he shouted Joyfully, "She's fired two blanks at us!" he +cried; "now she's firing cannon-balls!" + +"Thank God," whispered David; "perhaps she'll sink us!" + +But The Three Friends showed her heels to the revenue cutter, and +so far as David knew hours passed into days and days into weeks. +It was like those nightmares in which in a minute one is whirled +through centuries of fear and torment. Sometimes, regardless of +nausea, of his aching head, of the hard deck, of the waves that +splashed and smothered him, David fell into broken slumber. +Sometimes he woke to a dull consciousness of his position. At +such moments he added to his misery by speculating upon the other +misfortunes that might have befallen him on shore. Emily, he +decided, had given him up for lost and married--probably a navy +officer in command of a battle-ship. Burdett and Sons had cast +him off forever. Possibly his disappearance had caused them to +suspect him; even now they might be regarding him as a defaulter, +as a fugitive from justice. His accounts, no doubt, were being +carefully overhauled. In actual time, two days and two nights had +passed; to David it seemed many ages. + +On the third day he crawled to the stern, where there seemed less +motion, and finding a boat's cushion threw it in the lee scupper +and fell upon it. From time to time the youth in the golf cap had +brought him food and drink, and he now appeared from the cook's +galley bearing a bowl of smoking soup. + +David considered it a doubtful attention. + +But he said, "You're very kind. How did a fellow like you come to +mix up with these pirates?" + +The youth laughed good-naturedly. + +"They're not pirates, they're patriots," he said, "and I'm not +mixed up with them. My name is Henry Carr and I'm a guest of +Jimmy Doyle, the captain." + +"The barkeeper with the derby hat?" said David. + +"He's not a barkeeper, he's a teetotaler," Carr corrected, "and +he's the greatest filibuster alive. He knows these waters as you +know Broadway, and he's the salt of the earth. I did him a favor +once; sort of mouse-helping-the-lion idea. Just through dumb luck +I found out about this expedition. The government agents in New +York found out I'd found out and sent for me to tell. But I +didn't, and I didn't write the story either. Doyle heard about +that. So, he asked me to come as his guest, and he's promised +that after he's landed the expedition and the arms I can write as +much about it as I darn please." + +"Then you're a reporter?" said David. + +"I'm what we call a cub reporter," laughed Carr. "You see, I've +always dreamed of being a war correspondent. The men in the +office say I dream too much. They're always guying me about it. +But, haven't you noticed, it's the ones who dream who find their +dreams come true. Now this isn't real war, but it's a near war, +and when the real thing breaks loose, I can tell the managing +editor I served as a war correspondent in the Cuban-Spanish +campaign. And he may give me a real job!" + +"And you LIKE this?" groaned David. + +"I wouldn't, if I were as sick as you are," said Carr, "but I've +a stomach like a Harlem goat." He stooped and lowered his voice. +"Now, here are two fake filibusters," he whispered. "The men you +read about in the newspapers. If a man's a REAL filibuster, +nobody knows it!" + +Coming toward them was the tall man who had knocked David out, +and the little one who had wanted to tie him to a tree. + +"All they ask," whispered Carr, "is money and advertisement. If +they knew I was a reporter, they'd eat out of my hand. The tall +man calls himself Lighthouse Harry. He once kept a light-house on +the Florida coast, and that's as near to the sea as he ever got. +The other one is a dare-devil calling himself Colonel Beamish. He +says he's an English officer, and a soldier of fortune, and that +he's been in eighteen battles. Jimmy says he's never been near +enough to a battle to see the red-cross flags on the base +hospital. But they've fooled these Cubans. The Junta thinks +they're great fighters, and it's sent them down here to work the +machine guns. But I'm afraid the only fighting they will do will +be in the sporting columns, and not in the ring." + +A half dozen sea-sick Cubans were carrying a heavy, oblong box. +They dropped it not two yards from where David lay, and with a +screwdriver Lighthouse Harry proceeded to open the lid. + +Carr explained to David that The Three Friends was approaching +that part of the coast of Cuba on which she had arranged to land +her expedition, and that in case she was surprised by one of the +Spanish patrol boats she was preparing to defend herself. + +"They've got an automatic gun in that crate," said Carr, "and +they're going to assemble it. You'd better move; they'll be +tramping all over you. + +David shook his head feebly. + +"I can't move!" he protested. "I wouldn't move if it would free +Cuba." + +For several hours with very languid interest David watched +Lighthouse Harry and Colonel Beamish screw a heavy tripod to the +deck and balance above it a quick-firing one-pounder. They worked +very slowly, and to David, watching them from the lee scupper, +they appeared extremely unintelligent. + +"I don't believe either of those thugs put an automatic gun +together in his life," he whispered to Carr. "I never did, +either, but I've put hundreds of automatic punches together, and +I bet that gun won't work." + +"What's wrong with it?" said Carr. + +Before David could summon sufficient energy to answer, the +attention of all on board was diverted, and by a single word. + +Whether the word is whispered apologetically by the smoking-room +steward to those deep in bridge, or shrieked from the tops of a +sinking ship it never quite fails of its effect. A sweating +stoker from the engine-room saw it first. + +"Land!" he hailed. + +The sea-sick Cubans raised themselves and swung their hats; their +voices rose in a fierce chorus. + +"Cuba libre!" they yelled. + +The sun piercing the morning mists had uncovered a coast-line +broken with bays and inlets. Above it towered green hills, the +peak of each topped by a squat blockhouse; in the valleys and +water courses like columns of marble rose the royal palms. + +"You MUST look!" Carr entreated David. "it's just as it is in the +pictures! + +"Then I don't have to look," groaned David. + +The Three Friends was making for a point of land that curved like +a sickle. On the inside of the sickle was Nipe Bay. On the +opposite shore of that broad harbor at the place of rendezvous a +little band of Cubans waited to receive the filibusters. The goal +was in sight. The dreadful voyage was done. Joy and excitement +thrilled the ship's company. Cuban patriots appeared in uniforms +with Cuban flags pinned in the brims of their straw sombreros. +From the hold came boxes of small-arm ammunition of Mausers, +rifles, machetes, and saddles. To protect the landing a box of +shells was placed in readiness beside the one-pounder. + +"In two hours, if we have smooth water," shouted Lighthouse +Harry, "we ought to get all of this on shore. And then, all I +ask," he cried mightily, "is for some one to kindly show me a +Spaniard!" + +His heart's desire was instantly granted. He was shown not only +one Spaniard, but several Spaniards. They were on the deck of one +of the fastest gun-boats of the Spanish navy. Not a mile from The +Three Friends she sprang from the cover of a narrow inlet. She +did not signal questions or extend courtesies. For her the name +of the ocean-going tug was sufficient introduction. Throwing +ahead of her a solid shell, she raced in pursuit, and as The +Three Friends leaped to full speed there came from the gun-boat +the sharp dry crackle of Mausers. + +With an explosion of terrifying oaths Lighthouse Harry thrust a +shell into the breech of the quick-firing gun. Without waiting to +aim it, he tugged at the trigger. Nothing happened! He threw open +the breech and gazed impotently at the base of the shell. It was +untouched. The ship was ringing with cries of anger, of hate, +with rat-like squeaks of fear. + +Above the heads of the filibusters a shell screamed and within a +hundred feet splashed into a wave. + +From his mat in the lee scupper David groaned miserably. He was +far removed from any of the greater emotions. + +"It's no use!" he protested. "They can't do! It's not connected!" + +"WHAT'S not connected?" yelled Carr. He fell upon David. He +half-lifted, half-dragged him to his feet. + +"If you know what's wrong with that gun, you fix it! Fix it," he +shouted, "or I'll--" + +David was not concerned with the vengeance Carr threatened. For, +on the instant a miracle had taken place. With the swift +insidiousness of morphine, peace ran through his veins, soothed +his racked body, his jangled nerves. The Three Friends had made +the harbor, and was gliding through water flat as a pond. But +David did not know why the change had come. He knew only that his +soul and body were at rest, that the sun was shining, that he had +passed through the valley of the shadow, and once more was a +sane, sound young man. + +With a savage thrust of the shoulder he sent Lighthouse Harry +sprawling from the gun. With swift, practised fingers he fell +upon its mechanism. He wrenched it apart. He lifted it, reset, +readjusted it. + +Ignorant themselves, those about him saw that he understood, saw +that his work was good. + +They raised a joyous, defiant cheer. But a shower of bullets +drove them to cover, bullets that ripped the deck, splintered the +superstructure, smashed the glass in the air ports, like angry +wasps sang in a continuous whining chorus. Intent only on the +gun, David worked feverishly. He swung to the breech, locked it, +and dragged it open, pulled on the trigger and found it gave +before his forefinger. + +He shouted with delight. + +"I've got it working," he yelled. + +He turned to his audience, but his audience had fled. From +beneath one of the life-boats protruded the riding-boots of +Colonel Beamish, the tall form of Lighthouse Harry was doubled +behind a water butt. A shell splashed to port, a shell splashed +to starboard. For an instant David stood staring wide-eyed at the +greyhound of a boat that ate up the distance between them, at the +jets of smoke and stabs of flame that sprang from her bow, at the +figures crouched behind her gunwale, firing in volleys. + +To David it came suddenly, convincingly, that in a dream he had +lived it all before, and something like raw poison stirred in +David, something leaped to his throat and choked him, something +rose in his brain and made him see scarlet. He felt rather than +saw young Carr kneeling at the box of ammunition, and holding a +shell toward him. He heard the click as the breech shut, felt the +rubber tire of the brace give against the weight of his shoulder, +down a long shining tube saw the pursuing gun-boat, saw her again +and many times disappear behind a flash of flame. A bullet gashed +his forehead, a bullet passed deftly through his forearm, but he +did not heed them. Confused with the thrashing of the engines, +with the roar of the gun he heard a strange voice shrieking +unceasingly: + +"Cuba libre!" it yelled. "To hell with Spain!" and he found that +the voice was his own. + +The story lost nothing in the way Carr wrote it. + +"And the best of it is," he exclaimed joyfully, "it's true!" + +For a Spanish gun-boat HAD been crippled and forced to run +herself aground by a tug-boat manned by Cuban patriots, and by a +single gun served by one man, and that man an American. It was +the first sea-fight of the war. Over night a Cuban navy had been +born, and into the limelight a cub reporter had projected a new +"hero," a ready-made, warranted-not-to-run, popular idol. + +They were seated in the pilot-house, "Jimmy" Doyle, Carr, and +David, the patriots and their arms had been safely dumped upon +the coast of Cuba, and The Three Friends was gliding swiftly and, +having caught the Florida straits napping, smoothly toward Key +West. Carr had just finished reading aloud his account of the +engagement. + +You will tell the story just as I have written it," commanded the +proud author. "Your being South as a travelling salesman was only +a blind. You came to volunteer for this expedition. Before you +could explain your wish you were mistaken for a secret-service +man, and hustled on board. That was just where you wanted to be, +and when the moment arrived you took command of the ship and +single-handed won the naval battle of Nipe Bay." + +Jimmy Doyle nodded his head approvingly. "You certainty did, +Dave," protested the great man, "I seen you when you done it!" + +At Key West Carr filed his story and while the hospital surgeons +kept David there over one steamer, to dress his wounds, his fame +and features spread across the map of the United States. + +Burdett and Sons basked in reflected glory. Reporters besieged +their office. At the Merchants Down-Town Club the business men of +lower Broadway tendered congratulations. + +"Of course, it's a great surprise to us," Burdett and Sons would +protest and wink heavily. "Of course, when the boy asked to be +sent South we'd no idea he was planning to fight for Cuba! Or we +wouldn't have let him go, would we?" Then again they would wink +heavily. "I suppose you know," they would say, "that he's a +direct descendant of General Hiram Greene, who won the battle of +Trenton. What I say is, 'Blood will tell!'" And then in a body +every one in the club would move against the bar and exclaim: +"Here's to Cuba libre!" + +When the Olivette from Key West reached Tampa Bay every Cuban in +the Tampa cigar factories was at the dock. There were thousands +of them and all of the Junta, in high hats, to read David an +address of welcome. + +And, when they saw him at the top of the gang-plank with his head +in a bandage and his arm in a sling, like a mob of maniacs they +howled and surged toward him. But before they could reach their +hero the courteous Junta forced them back, and cleared a pathway +for a young girl. She was travel-worn and pale, her shirt-waist +was disgracefully wrinkled, her best hat was a wreck. No one on +Broadway would have recognized her as Burdett and Sons' most +immaculate and beautiful stenographer. + +She dug the shapeless hat into David's shoulder, and clung to +him. "David!" she sobbed, "promise me you'll never, never do it +again!" + + + +Chapter 5. THE SAILORMAN + +Before Latimer put him on watch, the Nantucket sailorman had not +a care in the world. If the wind blew from the north, he spun to +the left; if it came from the south, he spun to the right. But it +was entirely the wind that was responsible. So, whichever way he +turned, he smiled broadly, happily. His outlook upon the world +was that of one who loved his fellowman. He had many brothers as +like him as twins all over Nantucket and Cape Cod and the North +Shore, smiling from the railings of verandas, from the roofs of +bungalows, from the eaves of summer palaces. Empaled on their +little iron uprights, each sailorman whirled--sometimes +languidly, like a great lady revolving to the slow measures of a +waltz, sometimes so rapidly that he made you quite dizzy, and had +he not been a sailorman with a heart of oak and a head and +stomach of pine, he would have been quite seasick. But the +particular sailorman that Latimer bought for Helen Page and put +on sentry duty carried on his shoulders most grave and unusual +responsibilities. He was the guardian of a buried treasure, the +keeper of the happiness of two young people. It was really asking +a great deal of a care-free, happy-go-lucky weather-vane. + +Every summer from Boston Helen Page's people had been coming to +Fair Harbor. They knew it when what now is the polo field was +their cow pasture. And whether at the age of twelve or of twenty +or more, Helen Page ruled Fair Harbor. When she arrived the +"season" opened; when she departed the local trades-people +sighed and began to take account of stock. She was so popular +because she possessed charm, and because she played no favorites. +To the grooms who held the ponies on the sidelines her manner was +just as simple and interested as it was to the gilded youths who +came to win the championship cups and remained to try to win +Helen. She was just as genuinely pleased to make a four at tennis +with the "kids" as to take tea on the veranda of the club-house +with the matrons. To each her manner was always as though she +were of their age. When she met the latter on the beach road, she +greeted them riotously and joyfully by their maiden names. And +the matrons liked it. In comparison the deference shown them by +the other young women did not so strongly appeal. + +"When I'm jogging along in my station wagon," said one of them, +"and Helen shrieks and waves at me from her car, I feel as though +I were twenty, and I believe that she is really sorry I am not +sitting beside her, instead of that good-looking Latimer man, +who never wears a hat. Why does he never wear a hat? Because he +knows he's good-looking, or because Helen drives so fast he can't +keep it on?" + +"Does he wear a hat when he is not with Helen?" asked the new +arrival. "That might help some." + +"We will never know," exclaimed the young matron; "he never +leaves her." + +This was so true that it had become a public scandal. You met +them so many times a day driving together, motoring together, +playing golf together, that you were embarrassed for them and did +not know which way to look. But they gloried in their shame. If +you tactfully pretended not to see them, Helen shouted at you. +She made you feel you had been caught doing something indelicate +and underhand. + +The mothers of Fair Harbor were rather slow in accepting young +Latimer. So many of their sons had seen Helen shake her head in +that inarticulate, worried way, and look so sorry for them, that +any strange young man who apparently succeeded where those who +had been her friends for years had learned they must remain +friends, could not hope to escape criticism. Besides, they did +not know him: he did not come from Boston and Harvard, but from a +Western city. They were told that at home, at both the law and +the game of politics, he worked hard and successfully; but it was +rather held against him by the youth of Fair Harbor that he +played at there games, not so much for the sake of the game as +for exercise. He put aside many things, such as whiskey and soda +at two in the morning, and bridge all afternoon, with the remark: +"I find it does not tend toward efficiency." It was a remark that +irritated and, to the minds of the men at the country clubs, +seemed to place him. They liked to play polo because they liked +to play polo, not because it kept their muscles limber and their +brains clear. + +"Some Western people were telling me," said one of the matrons, +"that he wants to be the next lieutenant-governor. They say he is +very ambitious and very selfish." + +"Any man is selfish," protested one who for years had attempted +to marry Helen, "who wants to keep Helen to himself. But that he +should wish to be a lieutenant-governor, too, is rather an +anticlimax. It makes one lose sympathy." + +Latimer went on his way without asking any sympathy. The +companionship of Helen Page was quite sufficient. He had been +working overtime and was treating himself to his first vacation +in years--he was young--he was in love and he was very happy. Nor +was there any question, either, that Helen Page was happy. Those +who had known her since she was a child could not remember when +she had not been happy, but these days she wore her joyousness +with a difference. It was in her eyes, in her greetings to old +friends: it showed itself hourly in courtesies and kindnesses. +She was very kind to Latimer, too. She did not deceive him. She +told him she liked better to be with him than with any one +else,--it would have been difficult to deny to him what was +apparent to an entire summer colony,--but she explained that that +did not mean she would marry him. She announced this when the +signs she knew made it seem necessary. She announced it in what +was for her a roundabout way, by remarking suddenly that she did +not intend to marry for several years. + +This brought Latimer to his feet and called forth from him +remarks so eloquent that Helen found it very difficult to keep +her own. She as though she had been caught in an undertow and was +being whirled out to sea. When, at last, she had regained her +breath, only because Latimer had paused to catch his, she shook +her head miserably. + +"The trouble is," she complained, "there are so many think the +same thing!" + +"What do they think?" demanded Latimer. + +"That they want to marry me." + +Checked but not discouraged, Latimer attacked in force. + +"I can quite believe that," he agreed, "but there's this +important difference: no matter how much a man wants to marry +you, he can't LOVE you as I do!" + +"That's ANOTHER thing they think," sighed Helen. + +"I'm sorry to be so unoriginal," snapped Latimer. + +"PLEASE don't!" pleaded Helen. "I don't mean to be unfeeling. I'm +not unfeeling. I'm only trying to be fair. If I don't seem to +take it to heart, it's because I know it does no good. I can see +how miserable a girl must be if she is loved by one man and can't +make up her mind whether or not she wants to marry him. But when +there's so many she just stops worrying; for she can't possibly +marry them all." + +"ALL!" exclaimed Latimer. "It is incredible that I have +undervalued you, but may I ask how many there are?" + +"I don't know," sighed Helen miserably. "There seems to be +something about me that--" + +"There is!" interrupted Latimer. "I've noticed it. You don't have +to tell me about it. I know that the Helen Page habit is a damned +difficult habit to break!" + +It cannot be said that he made any violent effort to break it. At +least, not one that was obvious to Fair Harbor or to Helen. + +One of their favorite drives was through the pine woods to the +point on which stood the lighthouse, and on one of these +excursions they explored a forgotten wood road and came out upon +a cliff. The cliff overlooked the sea, and below it was a jumble +of rocks with which the waves played hide and seek. On many +afternoons and mornings they returned to this place, and, while +Latimer read to her, Helen would sit with her back to a tree and +toss pine-cones into the water. Sometimes the poets whose works +he read made love so charmingly that Latimer was most grateful to +them for rendering such excellent first aid to the wounded, and +into his voice he would throw all that feeling and music that +from juries and mass meetings had dragged tears and cheers and +votes. + +But when his voice became so appealing that it no longer was +possible for any woman to resist it, Helen would exclaim +excitedly: "Please excuse me for interrupting, but there is a +large spider--" and the spell was gone. + +One day she exclaimed: "Oh!" and Latimer patiently lowered the +"Oxford Book of Verse," and asked: "What is it, NOW?" + +"I'm so sorry," Helen said, "but I can't help watching that +Chapman boy; he's only got one reef in, and the next time he jibs +he'll capsize, and he can't swim, and he'll drown. I told his +mother only yesterday--" + +"I haven't the least interest in the Chapman boy," said Latimer, +"or in what you told his mother, or whether he drowns or not! I'm +a drowning man myself!" + +Helen shook her head firmly and reprovingly. "Men get over THAT +kind of drowning," she said. + +"Not THIS kind of man doesn't!" said Latimer. "And don't tell +me," he cried indignantly, "that that's ANOTHER thing they all +say." + +"If one could only be sure!" sighed Helen. "If one could only be +sure that you--that the right man would keep on caring after you +marry him the way he says he cares before you marry him. If you +could know that, it would help you a lot in making up your mind." + +"There is only one way to find that out," said Latimer; "that is +to marry him. I mean, of course," he corrected hastily, "to marry +me." + +One day, when on their way to the cliff at the end of the wood +road, the man who makes the Nantucket sailor and peddles him +passed through the village; and Latimer bought the sailorman and +carried him to their hiding-place. There he fastened him to the +lowest limb of one of the ancient pine-trees that helped to +screen their hiding-place from the world. The limb reached out +free of the other branches, and the wind caught the sailorman +fairly and spun him like a dancing dervish. Then it tired of him, +and went off to try to drown the Chapman boy, leaving the +sailorman motionless with his arms outstretched, balancing in +each hand a tiny oar and smiling happily. + +"He has a friendly smile," said Helen; "I think he likes us." + +"He is on guard," Latimer explained. "I put him there to warn us +if any one approaches, and when we are not here, he is to +frighten away trespassers. Do you understand?" he demanded of the +sailorman. "Your duty is to protect this beautiful lady. So long +as I love her you must guard this place. It is a life sentence. +You are always on watch. You never sleep. You are her slave. She +says you have a friendly smile. She wrongs you. It is a +beseeching, abject, worshipping smile. I am sure when I look at +her mine is equally idiotic. In fact, we are in many ways alike. +I also am her slave. I also am devoted only to her service. And I +never sleep, at least not since I met her." + +From her throne among the pine needles Helen looked up at the +sailorman and frowned. + +"It is not a happy simile," she objected. "For one thing, a +sailorman has a sweetheart in every port." + +"Wait and see," said Latimer. + +"And," continued the girl with some asperity, "if there is +anything on earth that changes its mind as often as a +weather-vane, that is less CERTAIN, less CONSTANT--" + +"Constant?" Latimer laughed at her in open scorn. "You come back +here," he challenged, "months from now, years from now, when the +winds have beaten him, and the sun blistered him, and the snow +frozen him, and you will find him smiling at you just as he is +now, just as confidently, proudly, joyously, devotedly. Because +those who are your slaves, those who love YOU, cannot come to any +harm; only if you disown them, only if you drive them away! + +The sailorman, delighted at such beautiful language, threw +himself about in a delirium of joy. His arms spun in their +sockets like Indian clubs, his oars flashed in the sun, and his +eyes and lips were fixed in one blissful, long-drawn-out, +unalterable smile. + +When the golden-rod turned gray, and the leaves red and yellow, +and it was time for Latimer to return to his work in the West, he +came to say good-by. But the best Helen could do to keep hope +alive in him was to say that she was glad he cared. She added it +was very helpful to think that a man such as he believed you were +so fine a person, and during the coming winter she would try to +be like the fine person he believed her to be, but which, she +assured him, she was not. + +Then he told her again she was the most wonderful being in the +world, to which she said: "Oh, indeed no!" and then, as though he +were giving her a cue, he said: "Good-by!" But she did not take +up his cue, and they shook hands. He waited, hardly daring to +breathe. + +"Surely, now that the parting has come," he assured himself, "she +will make some sign, she will give me a word, a look that will +write 'total' under the hours we have spent together, that will +help to carry me through the long winter." + +But he held her hand so long and looked at her so hungrily that +he really forced her to say: "Don't miss your train," which kind +consideration for his comfort did not delight him as it should. +Nor, indeed, later did she herself recall the remark with +satisfaction. + +With Latimer out of the way the other two hundred and forty-nine +suitor attacked with renewed hope. Among other advantages they +had over Latimer was that they were on the ground. They saw Helen +daily, at dinners, dances, at the country clubs, in her own +drawing-room. Like any sailor from the Charlestown Navy Yard and +his sweetheart, they could walk beside her in the park and throw +peanuts to the pigeons, and scratch dates and initials on the +green benches; they could walk with her up one side of +Commonwealth Avenue and down the south bank of the Charles, when +the sun was gilding the dome of the State House, when the bridges +were beginning to deck themselves with necklaces of lights. They +had known her since they wore knickerbockers; and they shared +many interests and friends in common; they talked the same +language. Latimer could talk to her only in letters, for with her +he shared no friends or interests, and he was forced to choose +between telling her of his lawsuits and his efforts in politics +or of his love. To write to her of his affairs seemed wasteful +and impertinent, and of his love for her, after she had received +what he told of it in silence, he was too proud to speak. So he +wrote but seldom, and then only to say: "You know what I send +you." Had he known it, his best letters were those he did not +send. When in the morning mail Helen found his familiar +handwriting, that seemed to stand out like the face of a friend +in a crowd, she would pounce upon the letter, read it, and, +assured of his love, would go on her way rejoicing. But when in +the morning there was no letter, she wondered why, and all day +she wondered why. And the next morning when again she was +disappointed, her thoughts of Latimer and her doubts and +speculations concerning him shut out every other interest. He +became a perplexing, insistent problem. He was never out of her +mind. And then he would spoil it all by writing her that he loved +her and that of all the women in the world she was the only one. +And, reassured upon that point, Helen happily and promptly would +forget all about him. + +But when she remembered him, although months had passed since she +had seen him, she remembered him much more distinctly, much more +gratefully, than that one of the two hundred and fifty with whom +she had walked that same afternoon. Latimer could not know it, +but of that anxious multitude he was first, and there was no +second. At least Helen hoped, when she was ready to marry, she +would love Latimer enough to want to marry him. But as yet she +assured herself she did not want to marry any one. As she was, +life was very satisfactory. Everybody loved her, everybody +invited her to be of his party, or invited himself to join hers, +and the object of each seemed to be to see that she enjoyed every +hour of every day. Her nature was such that to make her happy was +not difficult. Some of her devotees could do it by giving her a +dance and letting her invite half of Boston, and her kid brother +could do it by taking her to Cambridge to watch the team at +practice. + +She thought she was happy because she was free. As a matter of +fact, she was happy because she loved some one and that +particular some one loved her. Her being "free" was only her +mistaken way of putting it. Had she thought she had lost Latimer +and his love, she would have discovered that, so far from being +free, she was bound hand and foot and heart and soul. + +But she did not know that, and Latimer did not know that. + +Meanwhile, from the branch of the tree in the sheltered, secret +hiding-place that overlooked the ocean, the sailorman kept watch. +The sun had blistered him, the storms had buffeted him, the snow +had frozen upon his shoulders. But his loyalty never relaxed. He +spun to the north, he spun to the south, and so rapidly did he +scan the surrounding landscape that no one could hope to creep +upon him unawares. Nor, indeed, did any one attempt to do so. +Once a fox stole into the secret hiding-place, but the sailorman +flapped his oars and frightened him away. He was always +triumphant. To birds, to squirrels, to trespassing rabbits he was +a thing of terror. Once, when the air was still, an impertinent +crow perched on the very limb on which he stood, and with +scornful, disapproving eyes surveyed his white trousers, his blue +reefer, his red cheeks. But when the wind suddenly drove past +them the sailorman sprang into action and the crow screamed in +alarm and darted away. So, alone and with no one to come to his +relief, the sailorman stood his watch. About him the branches +bent with the snow, the icicles froze him into immobility, and in +the tree-tops strange groanings filled him with alarms. But +undaunted, month after month, alert and smiling, he waited the +return of the beautiful lady and of the tall young man who had +devoured her with such beseeching, unhappy eyes. + +Latimer found that to love a woman like Helen Page as he loved +her was the best thing that could come into his life. But to sit +down and lament over the fact that she did not love him did not, +to use his favorite expression, "tend toward efficiency." He +removed from his sight the three pictures of her he had cut from +illustrated papers, and ceased to write to her. + +In his last letter he said: "I have told you how it is, and that +is how it is always going to be. There never has been, there +never can be any one but you. But my love is too precious, too +sacred to be brought out every week in a letter and dangled +before your eyes like an advertisement of a motor-car. It is too +wonderful a thing to be cheapened, to be subjected to slights and +silence. If ever you should want it, it is yours. It is here +waiting. But you must tell me so. I have done everything a man +can do to make you understand. But you do not want me or my love. +And my love says to me: 'Don't send me there again to have the +door shut in my face. Keep me with you to be your inspiration, to +help you to live worthily.' And so it shall be." + +When Helen read that letter she did not know what to do. She did +not know how to answer it. Her first impression was that suddenly +she had grown very old, and that some one had turned off the sun, +and that in consequence the world had naturally grown cold and +dark. She could not see why the two hundred and forty-nine +expected her to keep on doing exactly the same things she had +been doing with delight for six months, and indeed for the last +six years. Why could they not see that no longer was there any +pleasure in them? She would have written and told Latimer that +she found she loved him very dearly if in her mind there had not +arisen a fearful doubt. Suppose his letter was not quite honest? +He said that he would always love her, but how could she now know +that? Why might not this letter be only his way of withdrawing +from a position which he wished to abandon, from which, perhaps, +he was even glad to escape? Were this true, and she wrote and +said all those things that were in her heart, that now she knew +were true, might she not hold him to her against his will? The +love that once he had for her might no longer exist, and if, in +her turn, she told him she loved him and had always loved him, +might he not in some mistaken spirit of chivalry feel it was his +duty to pretend to care? Her cheeks burned at the thought. It was +intolerable. She could not write that letter. And as day +succeeded day, to do so became more difficult. And so she never +wrote and was very unhappy. And Latimer was very unhappy. But he +had his work, and Helen had none, and for her life became a game +of putting little things together, like a picture puzzle, an hour +here and an hour there, to make up each day. It was a dreary +game. + +From time to time she heard of him through the newspapers. For, +in his own State, he was an "Insurgent" making a fight, the +outcome of which was expected to show what might follow +throughout the entire West. When he won his fight much more was +written about him, and he became a national figure. In his own +State the people hailed him as the next governor, promised him a +seat in the Senate. To Helen this seemed to take him further out +of her life. She wondered if now she held a place even in his +thoughts. + +At Fair Harbor the two hundred and forty-nine used to joke with +her about her politician. Then they considered Latimer of +importance only because Helen liked him. Now they discussed him +impersonally and over her head, as though she were not present, +as a power, an influence, as the leader and exponent of a new +idea. They seemed to think she no longer could pretend to any +peculiar claim upon him, that now he belonged to all of them. + +Older men would say to her: "I hear you know Latimer? What sort +of a man is he?" + +Helen would not know what to tell them. She could not say he was +a man who sat with his back to a pine-tree, reading from a book +of verse, or halting to devour her with humble, entreating eyes. + +She went South for the winter, the doctors deciding she was run +down and needed the change. And with an unhappy laugh at her own +expense she agreed in their diagnosis. She was indifferent as to +where they sent her, for she knew wherever she went she must +still force herself to go on putting one hour on top of another, +until she had built up the inexorable and necessary twenty-four. + +When she returned winter was departing, but reluctantly, and +returning unexpectedly to cover the world with snow, to eclipse +the thin spring sunshine with cheerless clouds. Helen took +herself seriously to task. She assured herself it was weak-minded +to rebel. The summer was coming and Fair Harbor with all its old +delights was before her. She compelled herself to take heart, to +accept the fact that, after all, the world is a pretty good +place, and that to think only of the past, to live only on +memories and regrets, was not only cowardly and selfish, but, as +Latimer had already decided, did not tend toward efficiency. + +Among the other rules of conduct that she imposed upon herself +was not to think of Latimer. At least, not during the waking +hours. Should she, as it sometimes happened, dream of him--should +she imagine they were again seated among the pines, riding across +the downs, or racing at fifty miles an hour through country +roads, with the stone fences flying past, with the wind and the +sun in their eyes, and in their hearts happiness and +content--that would not be breaking her rule. If she dreamed of +him, she could not be held responsible. She could only be +grateful. + +And then, just as she had banished him entirely from her mind, he +came East. Not as once he had planned to come, only to see her, +but with a blare of trumpets, at the command of many citizens, as +the guest of three cities. He was to speak at public meetings, to +confer with party leaders, to carry the war into the enemy's +country. He was due to speak in Boston at Faneuil Hall on the +first of May, and that same night to leave for the West, and +three days before his coming Helen fled from the city. He had +spoken his message to Philadelphia, he had spoken to New York, +and for a week the papers had spoken only of him. And for that +week, from the sight of his printed name, from sketches of him +exhorting cheering mobs, from snap-shots of him on rear platforms +leaning forward to grasp eager hands, Helen had shut her eyes. +And that during the time he was actually in Boston she might +spare herself further and more direct attacks upon her feelings +she escaped to Fair Harbor, there to remain until, on the first +of May at midnight, he again would pass out of her life, maybe +forever. No one saw in her going any significance. Spring had +come, and in preparation for the summer season the house at Fair +Harbor must be opened and set in order, and the presence there of +some one of the Page family was easily explained. + +She made the three hours' run to Fair Harbor in her car, driving +it herself, and as the familiar landfalls fell into place, she +doubted if it would not have been wiser had she stayed away. For +she found that the memories of more than twenty summers at Fair +Harbor had been wiped out by those of one summer, by those of one +man. The natives greeted her joyously: the boatmen, the +fishermen, her own grooms and gardeners, the village postmaster, +the oldest inhabitant. They welcomed her as though they were her +vassals and she their queen. But it was the one man she had +exiled from Fair Harbor who at every turn wrung her heart and +caused her throat to tighten. She passed the cottage where he had +lodged, and hundreds of years seemed to have gone since she used +to wait for him in the street, blowing noisily on her automobile +horn, calling derisively to his open windows. Wherever she turned +Fair Harbor spoke of him. The golf-links; the bathing beach; the +ugly corner in the main street where he always reminded her that +it was better to go slow for ten seconds than to remain a long +time dead; the old house on the stone wharf where the schooners +made fast, which he intended to borrow for his honeymoon; the +wooden trough where they always drew rein to water the ponies; +the pond into which he had waded to bring her lilies. + +On the second day of her stay she found she was passing these +places purposely, that to do so she was going out of her way. +They no longer distressed her, but gave her a strange comfort. +They were old friends, who had known her in the days when she was +rich in happiness. + +But the secret hiding-place--their very own hiding-place, the +opening among the pines that overhung the jumble of rocks and the +sea--she could not bring herself to visit. And then, on the +afternoon of the third day when she was driving alone toward the +lighthouse, her pony, of his own accord, from force of habit, +turned smartly into the wood road. And again from force of habit, +before he reached the spot that overlooked the sea, he came to a +full stop. There was no need to make him fast. For hours, +stretching over many summer days, he had stood under those same +branches patiently waiting. + +On foot, her heart beating tremulously, stepping reverently, as +one enters the aisle of some dim cathedral, Helen advanced into +the sacred circle. And then she stood quite still. What she had +expected to find there she could not have told, but it was gone. +The place was unknown to her. She saw an opening among gloomy +pines, empty, silent, unreal. No haunted house, no barren moor, +no neglected graveyard ever spoke more poignantly, more +mournfully, with such utter hopelessness. There was no sign of +his or of her former presence. Across the open space something +had passed its hand, and it had changed. What had been a +trysting-place, a bower, a nest, had become a tomb. A tomb, she +felt, for something that once had been brave, fine, and +beautiful, but which now was dead. She had but one desire, to +escape from the place, to put it away from her forever, to +remember it, not as she now found it, but as first she had +remembered it, and as now she must always remember It. She turned +softly on tiptoe as one who has intruded on a shrine. + +But before she could escape there came from the sea a sudden gust +of wind that caught her by the skirts and drew her back, that set +the branches tossing and swept the dead leaves racing about her +ankles. And at the same instant from just above her head there +beat upon the air a violent, joyous tattoo--a sound that was +neither of the sea nor of the woods, a creaking, swiftly repeated +sound, like the flutter of caged wings. + +Helen turned in alarm and raised her eyes--and beheld the +sailorman. + +Tossing his arms in a delirious welcome, waltzing in a frenzy of +joy, calling her back to him with wild beckonings, she saw him +smiling down at her with the same radiant, beseeching, +worshipping smile. In Helen's ears Latimer's commands to the +sailorman rang as clearly as though Latimer stood before her and +had just spoken. Only now they were no longer a jest; they were a +vow, a promise, an oath of allegiance that brought to her peace, +and pride, and happiness. + +"So long as I love this beautiful lady," had been his foolish +words, "you will guard this place. It is a life sentence!" + +With one hand Helen Page dragged down the branch on which the +sailorman stood, with the other she snatched him from his post of +duty. With a joyous laugh that was a sob, she clutched the +sailorman in both her hands and kissed the beseeching, +worshipping smile. + +An hour later her car, on its way to Boston, passed through Fair +Harbor at a rate of speed that caused her chauffeur to pray +between his chattering teeth that the first policeman would save +their lives by landing them in jail. + +At the wheel, her shoulders thrown forward, her eyes searching +the dark places beyond the reach of the leaping head-lights Helen +Page raced against time, against the minions of the law, against +sudden death, to beat the midnight train out of Boston, to assure +the man she loved of the one thing that could make his life worth +living. + +And close against her heart, buttoned tight beneath her +great-coat, the sailorman smiled in the darkness, his long watch +over, his soul at peace, his duty well performed. + + + +Chapter 6. THE MIND READER + +When Philip Endicott was at Harvard, he wrote stories of +undergraduate life suggested by things that had happened to +himself and to men he knew. Under the title of "Tales of the +Yard" they were collected in book form, and sold surprisingly +well. After he was graduated and became a reporter on the New +York Republic, he wrote more stories, in each of which a reporter +was the hero, and in which his failure or success in gathering +news supplied the plot. These appeared first in the magazines, +and later in a book under the title of "Tales of the Streets." +They also were well received. + +Then came to him the literary editor of the Republic, and said: +"There are two kinds of men who succeed in writing fiction--men +of genius and reporters. A reporter can describe a thing he has +seen in such a way that he can make the reader see it, too. A man +of genius can describe something he has never seen, or any one +else for that matter, in such a way that the reader will exclaim: +'I have never committed a murder; but if I had, that's just the +way I'd feel about it.' For instance, Kipling tells us how a +Greek pirate, chained to the oar of a trireme, suffers; how a +mother rejoices when her baby crawls across her breast. Kipling +has never been a mother or a pirate, but he convinces you he +knows how each of them feels. He can do that because he is a +genius; you cannot do it because you are not. At college you +wrote only of what you saw at college; and now that you are in +the newspaper business all your tales are only of newspaper work. +You merely report what you see. So, if you are doomed to write +only of what you see, then the best thing for you to do is to see +as many things as possible. You must see all kinds of life. You +must progress. You must leave New York, and you had better go to +London." + +"But on the Republic," Endicott pointed out, "I get a salary. And +in London I should have to sweep a crossing." + +"Then," said the literary editor, "you could write a story about +a man who swept a crossing." + +It was not alone the literary editor's words of wisdom that had +driven Philip to London. Helen Carey was in London, visiting the +daughter of the American Ambassador; and, though Philip had known +her only one winter, he loved her dearly. The great trouble was +that he had no money, and that she possessed so much of it that, +unless he could show some unusual quality of mind or character, +his asking her to marry him, from his own point of view at least, +was quite impossible. Of course, he knew that no one could love +her as he did, that no one so truly wished for her happiness, or +would try so devotedly to make her happy. But to him it did not +seem possible that a girl could be happy with a man who was not +able to pay for her home, or her clothes, or her food, who would +have to borrow her purse if he wanted a new pair of gloves or a +hair-cut. For Philip Endicott, while rich in birth and education +and charm of manner, had no money at all. When, in May, he came +from New York to lay siege to London and to the heart of Helen +Carey he had with him, all told, fifteen hundred dollars. That +was all he possessed in the world; and unless the magazines +bought his stories there was no prospect of his getting any more. + +Friends who knew London told him that, if you knew London well, +it was easy to live comfortably there and to go about and even to +entertain modestly on three sovereigns a day. So, at that rate, +Philip calculated he could stay three months. But he found that +to know London well enough to be able to live there on three +sovereigns a day you had first to spend so many five-pound notes +in getting acquainted with London that there were no sovereigns +left. At the end of one month he had just enough money to buy him +a second-class passage back to New York, and he was as far from +Helen as ever. + +Often he had read in stories and novels of men who were too poor +to marry. And he had laughed at the idea. He had always said that +when two people truly love each other it does not matter whether +they have money or not. But when in London, with only a +five-pound note, and face to face with the actual proposition of +asking Helen Carey not only to marry him but to support him, he +felt that money counted for more than he had supposed. He found +money was many different things--it was self-respect, and proper +pride, and private honors and independence. And, lacking these +things, he felt he could ask no girl to marry him, certainly not +one for whom he cared as he cared for Helen Carey. Besides, while +he knew how he loved her, he had no knowledge whatsoever that she +loved him. She always seemed extremely glad to see him; but that +might be explained in different ways. It might be that what was +in her heart for him was really a sort of "old home week" +feeling; that to her it was a relief to see any one who spoke her +own language, who did not need to have it explained when she was +jesting, and who did not think when she was speaking in perfectly +satisfactory phrases that she must be talking slang. + +The Ambassador and his wife had been very kind to Endicott, and, +as a friend of Helen's, had asked him often to dinner and had +sent him cards for dances at which Helen was to be one of the +belles and beauties. And Helen herself had been most kind, and +had taken early morning walks with him in Hyde Park and through +the National Galleries; and they had fed buns to the bears in the +Zoo, and in doing so had laughed heartily. They thought it was +because the bears were so ridiculous that they laughed. Later +they appreciated that the reason they were happy was because they +were together. Had the bear pit been empty, they still would have +laughed. + +On the evening of the thirty-first of May, Endicott had gone to +bed with his ticket purchased for America and his last five-pound +note to last him until the boat sailed. He was a miserable young +man. He knew now that he loved Helen Carey in such a way that to +put the ocean between them was liable to unseat his courage and +his self-control. In London he could, each night, walk through +Carlton House Terrace and, leaning against the iron rails of the +Carlton Club, gaze up at her window. But, once on the other side +of the ocean, that tender exercise must be abandoned. He must +even consider her pursued by most attractive guardsmen, +diplomats, and belted earls. He knew they could not love her as +he did; he knew they could not love her for the reasons he loved +her, because the fine and beautiful things in her that he saw and +worshipped they did not seek, and so did not find. And yet, for +lack of a few thousand dollars, he must remain silent, must put +from him the best that ever came into his life, must waste the +wonderful devotion he longed to give, must starve the love that +he could never summon for any other woman. + +On the thirty-first of May he went to sleep utterly and +completely miserable. On the first of June he woke hopeless and +unrefreshed. + +And then the miracle came. + +Prichard, the ex-butler who valeted all the young gentlemen in +the house where Philip had taken chambers, brought him his +breakfast. As he placed the eggs and muffins on the tables to +Philip it seemed as though Prichard had said: "I am sorry he is +leaving us. The next gentleman who takes these rooms may not be +so open-handed. He never locked up his cigars or his whiskey. I +wish he'd give me his old dress-coat. It fits me, except across +the shoulders." + +Philip stared hard at Prichard; but the lips of the valet had not +moved. In surprise and bewilderment, Philip demanded: + +"How do you know it fits? Have you tried it on?" + +"I wouldn't take such a liberty," protested Prichard. "Not with +any of our gentlemen's clothes." + +"How did you know I was talking about clothes," demanded Philip. +"You didn't say anything about clothes, did you?" + +"No, sir, I did not; but you asked me, sir, and I--" + +"Were you thinking of clothes?" + +"Well, sir, you might say, in a way, that I was, answered the +valet. "Seeing as you're leaving, sir, and they're not over-new, +I thought " + +"It's mental telepathy," said Philip. + +"I beg your pardon," exclaimed Prichard. + +"You needn't wait," said Philip. + +The coincidence puzzled him; but by the time he had read the +morning papers he had forgotten about it, and it was not until he +had emerged into the street that it was forcibly recalled. The +street was crowded with people; and as Philip stepped in among +them, It was as though every one at whom he looked began to talk +aloud. Their lips did not move, nor did any sound issue from +between them; but, without ceasing, broken phrases of thoughts +came to him as clearly as when, in passing in a crowd, snatches +of talk are carried to the ears. One man thought of his debts; +another of the weather, and of what disaster it might bring to +his silk hat; another planned his luncheon; another was rejoicing +over a telegram he had but that moment received. To himself he +kept repeating the words of the telegram--"No need to come, out +of danger." To Philip the message came as clearly as though he +were reading it from the folded slip of paper that the stranger +clutched in his hand. + +Confused and somewhat frightened, and in order that undisturbed +he might consider what had befallen him, Philip sought refuge +from the crowded street in the hallway of a building. His first +thought was that for some unaccountable cause his brain for the +moment was playing tricks with him, and he was inventing the +phrases he seemed to hear, that he was attributing thoughts to +others of which they were entirely innocent. But, whatever it was +that had befallen him, he knew it was imperative that he should +at once get at the meaning of it. + +The hallway in which he stood opened from Bond Street up a flight +of stairs to the studio of a fashionable photographer, and +directly in front of the hallway a young woman of charming +appearance had halted. Her glance was troubled, her manner ill at +ease. To herself she kept repeating: "Did I tell Hudson to be +here at a quarter to eleven, or a quarter past? Will she get the +telephone message to bring the ruff? Without the ruff it would be +absurd to be photographed. Without her ruff Mary Queen of Scots +would look ridiculous!" + +Although the young woman had spoken not a single word, although +indeed she was biting impatiently at her lower lip, Philip had +distinguished the words clearly. Or, if he had not distinguished +them, he surely was going mad. It was a matter to be at once +determined, and the young woman should determine it. He advanced +boldly to her, and raised his hat. + +"Pardon me," he said, "but I believe you are waiting for your +maid Hudson?" + +As though fearing an impertinence, the girl regarded him in +silence. + +"I only wish to make sure," continued Philip, "that you are she +for whom I have a message. You have an appointment, I believe, to +be photographed in fancy dress as Mary Queen of Scots?" + +"Well?" assented the girl. + +"And you telephoned Hudson," he continued, "to bring you your +muff." + +The girl exclaimed with vexation. + +"Oh!" she protested; "I knew they'd get it wrong! Not muff, ruff! +I want my ruff." + +Philip felt a cold shiver creep down his spine. + +"For the love of Heaven!" he exclaimed in horror; "it's true!" + +"What's true?" demanded the young woman in some alarm. + +"That I'm a mind reader," declared Philip. "I've read your mind! +I can read everybody's mind. I know just what you're thinking +now. You're thinking I'm mad!" + +The actions of the young lady showed that again he was correct. +With a gasp of terror she fled past him and raced up the stairs +to the studio. Philip made no effort to follow and to explain. +What was there to explain? How could he explain that which, to +himself, was unbelievable? Besides, the girl had served her +purpose. If he could read the mind of one, he could read the +minds of all. By some unexplainable miracle, to his ordinary +equipment of senses a sixth had been added. As easily as, before +that morning, he could look into the face of a fellow-mortal, he +now could look into the workings of that fellow-mortal's mind. +The thought was appalling. It was like living with one's ear to a +key-hole. In his dismay his first idea was to seek medical +advice--the best in London. He turned instantly in the direction +of Harley Street. There, he determined, to the most skilled +alienist in town he would explain his strange plight. For only as +a misfortune did the miracle appear to him. But as he made his +way through the streets his pace slackened. + +Was he wise, he asked himself, in allowing others to know he +possessed this strange power? Would they not at once treat him as +a madman? Might they not place him under observation, or even +deprive him of his liberty? At the thought he came to an abrupt +halt His own definition of the miracle as a "power" had opened a +new line of speculation. If this strange gift (already he was +beginning to consider it more leniently) were concealed from +others, could he not honorably put it to some useful purpose? +For, among the blind, the man with one eye is a god. Was not +he--among all other men the only one able to read the minds of +all other men--a god? Turning into Bruton Street, he paced its +quiet length considering the possibilities that lay within him. + +It was apparent that the gift would lead to countless +embarrassments. If it were once known that he possessed it, would +not even his friends avoid him? For how could any one, knowing +his most secret thought was at the mercy of another, be happy in +that other's presence? His power would lead to his social +ostracism. Indeed, he could see that his gift might easily become +a curse. He decided not to act hastily, that for the present he +had best give no hint to others of his unique power. + +As the idea of possessing this power became more familiar, he +regarded it with less aversion. He began to consider to what +advantage he could place it. He could see that, given the right +time and the right man, he might learn secrets leading to +far-reaching results. To a statesman, to a financier, such a gift +as he possessed would make him a ruler of men. Philip had no +desire to be a ruler of men; but he asked himself how could he +bend this gift to serve his own? What he most wished was to marry +Helen Carey; and, to that end, to possess money. So he must meet +men who possessed money, who were making money. He would put +questions to them. And with words they would give evasive +answers; but their minds would tell him the truth. + +The ethics of this procedure greatly disturbed him. Certainly it +was no better than reading other people's letters. But, he +argued, the dishonor in knowledge so obtained would lie only in +the use he made of it. If he used it without harm to him from +whom it was obtained and with benefit to others, was he not +justified in trading on his superior equipment? He decided that +each case must be considered separately in accordance with the +principle involved. But, principle or no principle, he was +determined to become rich. Did not the end justify the means? +Certainly an all-wise Providence had not brought Helen Carey into +his life only to take her away from him. It could not be so +cruel. But, in selecting them for one another, the all-wise +Providence had overlooked the fact that she was rich and he was +poor. For that oversight Providence apparently was now +endeavoring to make amends. In what certainly was a fantastic and +roundabout manner Providence had tardily equipped him with a gift +that could lead to great wealth. And who was he to fly in the +face of Providence? He decided to set about building up a +fortune, and building it in a hurry. + +From Bruton Street he had emerged upon Berkeley Square; and, as +Lady Woodcote had invited him to meet Helen at luncheon at the +Ritz, he turned in that direction. He was too early for luncheon; +but in the corridor of the Ritz he knew he would find persons of +position and fortune, and in reading their minds he might pass +the time before luncheon with entertainment, possibly with +profit. For, while pacing Bruton Street trying to discover the +principles of conduct that threatened to hamper his new power, he +had found that in actual operation it was quite simple. He +learned that his mind, in relation to other minds, was like the +receiver of a wireless station with an unlimited field. For, +while the wireless could receive messages only from those +instruments with which it was attuned, his mind was in key with +all other minds. To read the thoughts of another, he had only to +concentrate his own upon that person; and to shut off the +thoughts of that person, he had only to turn his own thoughts +elsewhere. But also he discovered that over the thoughts of those +outside the range of his physical sight he had no control. When +he asked of what Helen Carey was at that moment thinking, there +was no result. But when he asked, "Of what is that policeman on +the corner thinking?" he was surprised to find that that officer +of the law was formulating regulations to abolish the hobble +skirt as an impediment to traffic. + +As Philip turned into Berkeley Square, the accents of a mind in +great distress smote upon his new and sixth sense. And, in the +person of a young gentleman leaning against the park railing, he +discovered the source from which the mental sufferings emanated. +The young man was a pink-cheeked, yellow-haired youth of +extremely boyish appearance, and dressed as if for the +race-track. But at the moment his pink and babyish face wore an +expression of complete misery. With tear-filled eyes he was +gazing at a house of yellow stucco on the opposite side of the +street. And his thoughts were these: "She is the best that ever +lived, and I am the most ungrateful of fools. How happy were we +in the house of yellow stucco! Only now, when she has closed its +doors to me, do I know how happy! If she would give me another +chance, never again would I distress or deceive her." + +So far had the young man progressed in his thoughts when an +automobile of surprising smartness swept around the corner and +drew up in front of the house of yellow stucco, and from it +descended a charming young person. She was of the Dresden- +shepherdess type, with large blue eyes of haunting beauty and +innocence. + +"My wife!" exclaimed the blond youth at the railings. And +instantly he dodged behind a horse that, while still attached to +a four-wheeler, was contentedly eating from a nose-bag. + +With a key the Dresden shepherdess opened the door to the yellow +house and disappeared. + +The calling of the reporter trains him in audacity, and to act +quickly. He shares the troubles of so many people that to the +troubles of other people he becomes callous, and often will rush +in where friends of the family fear to tread. Although Philip was +not now acting as a reporter, he acted quickly. Hardly had the +door closed upon the young lady than he had mounted the steps and +rung the visitor's bell. As he did so, he could not resist +casting a triumphant glance in the direction of the outlawed +husband. And, in turn, what the outcast husband, peering from +across the back of the cab horse, thought of Philip, of his +clothes, of his general appearance, and of the manner in which he +would delight to alter all of them, was quickly communicated to +the American. They were thoughts of a nature so violent and +uncomplimentary that Philip hastily cut off all connection. + +As Philip did not know the name of the Dresden-china doll, it was +fortunate that on opening the door, the butler promptly +announced: + +"Her ladyship is not receiving." + +"Her ladyship will, I think, receive me," said Philip pleasantly, +"when you tell her I come as the special ambassador of his +lordship." + +From a tiny reception-room on the right of the entrance-hall +there issued a feminine exclamation of surprise, not unmixed with +joy; and in the hall the noble lady instantly appeared. + +When she saw herself confronted by a stranger, she halted in +embarrassment. But as, even while she halted, her only thought +had been, "Oh! if he will only ask me to forgive him!" Philip +felt no embarrassment whatsoever. Outside, concealed behind a cab +horse, was the erring but bitterly repentant husband; inside, her +tenderest thoughts racing tumultuously toward him, was an unhappy +child-wife begging to be begged to pardon. + +For a New York reporter, and a Harvard graduate of charm and good +manners, it was too easy. + +"I do not know you," said her ladyship. But even as she spoke she +motioned to the butler to go away. "You must be one of his new +friends." Her tone was one of envy. + +"Indeed, I am his newest friend," Philip assured her; "but I can +safely say no one knows his thoughts as well as I. And they are +all of you!" + +The china shepherdess blushed with happiness, but instantly she +shook her head. + +"They tell me I must not believe him," she announced. "They tell +me--" + +"Never mind what they tell you," commanded Philip. "Listen to ME. +He loves you. Better than ever before, he loves you. All he asks +is the chance to tell you so. You cannot help but believe him. +Who can look at you, and not believe that he loves you! Let me," +he begged, "bring him to you." He started from her when, +remembering the somewhat violent thoughts of the youthful +husband, he added hastily: "Or perhaps it would be better if you +called him yourself." + +"Called him!" exclaimed the lady. "He is in Paris-at the +races--with her!" + +"If they tell you that sort of thing," protested Philip +indignantly, "you must listen to me. He is not in Paris. He is +not with her. There never was a her!" + +He drew aside the lace curtains and pointed. "He is there-- +behind that ancient cab horse, praying that you will let him tell +you that not only did he never do it; but, what is much more +important, he will never do it again." + +The lady herself now timidly drew the curtains apart, and then +more boldly showed herself upon the iron balcony. Leaning over +the scarlet geraniums, she beckoned with both hands. The result +was instantaneous. Philip bolted for the front door, leaving it +open; and, as he darted down the steps, the youthful husband, in +strides resembling those of an ostrich, shot past him. Philip did +not cease running until he was well out of Berkeley Square. Then, +not ill-pleased with the adventure, he turned and smiled back at +the house of yellow stucco. + +"Bless you, my children," he murmured; "bless you!" + +He continued to the Ritz; and, on crossing Piccadilly to the +quieter entrance to the hotel in Arlington Street, found gathered +around it a considerable crowd drawn up on either side of a red +carpet that stretched down the steps of the hotel to a court +carriage. A red carpet in June, when all is dry under foot and +the sun is shining gently, can mean only royalty; and in the rear +of the men in the street Philip halted. He remembered that for a +few days the young King of Asturia and the Queen Mother were at +the Ritz incognito; and, as he never had seen the young man who +so recently and so tragically had been exiled from his own +kingdom, Philip raised himself on tiptoe and stared expectantly. + +As easily as he could read their faces could he read the thoughts +of those about him. They were thoughts of friendly curiosity, of +pity for the exiles; on the part of the policemen who had +hastened from a cross street, of pride at their temporary +responsibility; on the part of the coachman of the court +carriage, of speculation as to the possible amount of his +Majesty's tip. The thoughts were as harmless and protecting as +the warm sunshine. + +And then, suddenly and harshly, like the stroke of a fire bell at +midnight, the harmonious chorus of gentle, hospitable thoughts +was shattered by one that was discordant, evil, menacing. It was +the thought of a man with a brain diseased; and its purpose was +murder. + +"When they appear at the doorway," spoke the brain of the maniac, +"I shall lift the bomb from my pocket. I shall raise it above my +head. I shall crash it against the stone steps. It will hurl them +and all of these people into eternity and me with them. But I +shall LIVE--a martyr to the Cause. And the Cause will flourish!" + +Through the unsuspecting crowd, like a football player diving for +a tackle, Philip hurled himself upon a little dark man standing +close to the open door of the court carriage. From the rear +Philip seized him around the waist and locked his arms behind +him, elbow to elbow. Philip's face, appearing over the man's +shoulder, stared straight into that of the policeman. + +"He has a bomb in his right-hand pocket!" yelled Philip. "I can +hold him while you take it! But, for Heaven's sake, don't drop +it!" Philip turned upon the crowd. "Run! all of you!" he shouted. +"Run like the devil!" + +At that instant the boy King and his Queen Mother, herself still +young and beautiful, and cloaked with a dignity and sorrow that +her robes of mourning could not intensify, appeared in the +doorway. + +"Go back, sir!" warned Philip. "He means to kill you!" + +At the words and at sight of the struggling men, the great lady +swayed helplessly, her eyes filled with terror. Her son sprang +protectingly in front of her. But the danger was past. A second +policeman was now holding the maniac by the wrists, forcing his +arms above his head; Philip's arms, like a lariat, were wound +around his chest; and from his pocket the first policeman +gingerly drew forth a round, black object of the size of a glass +fire-grenade. He held it high in the air, and waved his free hand +warningly. But the warning was unobserved. There was no one +remaining to observe it. Leaving the would-be assassin struggling +and biting in the grasp of the stalwart policeman, and the other +policeman unhappily holding the bomb at arm's length, Philip +sought to escape into the Ritz. But the young King broke through +the circle of attendants and stopped him. + +"I must thank you," said the boy eagerly; "and I wish you to tell +me how you came to suspect the man's purpose." + +Unable to speak the truth, Philip, the would-be writer of +fiction, began to improvise fluently. + +"To learn their purpose, sir," he said, "is my business. I am of +the International Police, and in the secret service of your +Majesty." + +"Then I must know your name," said the King, and added with a +dignity that was most becoming, "You will find we are not +ungrateful." + +Philip smiled mysteriously and shook his head. + +"I said in your secret service," he repeated. "Did even your +Majesty know me, my usefulness would be at an end." He pointed +toward the two policemen. "If you desire to be just, as well as +gracious, those are the men to reward." + +He slipped past the King and through the crowd of hotel officials +into the hall and on into the corridor. + +The arrest had taken place so quietly and so quickly that through +the heavy glass doors no sound had penetrated, and of the fact +that they had been so close to a possible tragedy those in the +corridor were still ignorant. The members of the Hungarian +orchestra were arranging their music; a waiter was serving two +men of middle age with sherry; and two distinguished-looking +elderly gentlemen seated together on a sofa were talking in +leisurely whispers. + +One of the two middle-aged men was well known to Philip, who as a +reporter had often, in New York, endeavored to interview him on +matters concerning the steel trust. His name was Faust. He was a +Pennsylvania Dutchman from Pittsburgh, and at one time had been a +foreman of the night shift in the same mills he now controlled. +But with a roar and a spectacular flash, not unlike one of his +own blast furnaces, he had soared to fame and fortune. He +recognized Philip as one of the bright young men of the Republic; +but in his own opinion he was far too self-important to betray +that fact. + +Philip sank into an imitation Louis Quatorze chair beside a +fountain in imitation of one in the apartment of the Pompadour, +and ordered what he knew would be an execrable imitation of an +American cocktail. While waiting for the cocktail and Lady +Woodcote's luncheon party, Philip, from where he sat, could not +help but overhear the conversation of Faust and of the man with +him. The latter was a German with Hebraic features and a pointed +beard. In loud tones he was congratulating the American many-time +millionaire on having that morning come into possession of a rare +and valuable masterpiece, a hitherto unknown and but recently +discovered portrait of Philip IV by Velasquez. + +Philip sighed enviously. + +"Fancy," he thought, "owning a Velasquez! Fancy having it all to +yourself! It must be fun to be rich. It certainly is hell to be +poor!" + +The German, who was evidently a picture-dealer, was exclaiming in +tones of rapture, and nodding his head with an air of awe and +solemnity. + +"I am telling you the truth, Mr. Faust," he said. "In no gallery +in Europe, no, not even in the Prado, is there such another +Velasquez. This is what you are doing, Mr. Faust, you are robbing +Spain. You are robbing her of something worth more to her than +Cuba. And I tell you, so soon as it is known that this Velasquez +is going to your home in Pittsburgh, every Spaniard will hate you +and every art-collector will hate you, too. For it is the most +wonderful art treasure in Europe. And what a bargain, Mr. Faust! +What a bargain!" + +To make sure that the reporter was within hearing, Mr. Faust +glanced in the direction of Philip and, seeing that he had heard, +frowned importantly. That the reporter might hear still more, he +also raised his voice. + +"Nothing can be called a bargain, Baron," he said, "that costs +three hundred thousand dollars!" + +Again he could not resist glancing toward Philip, and so eagerly +that Philip deemed it would be only polite to look interested. So +he obligingly assumed a startled look, with which he endeavored +to mingle simulations of surprise, awe, and envy. + +The next instant an expression of real surprise overspread his +features. + +Mr. Faust continued. "If you will come upstairs," he said to the +picture-dealer, "I will give you your check; and then I should +like to drive to your apartments and take a farewell look at the +picture." + +"I am sorry," the Baron said, "but I have had it moved to my art +gallery to be packed." + +"Then let's go to the gallery," urged the patron of art. "We've +just time before lunch." He rose to his feet, and on the instant +the soul of the picture-dealer was filled with alarm. + +In actual words he said: "The picture is already boxed and in its +lead coffin. No doubt by now it is on its way to Liverpool. I am +sorry." But his thoughts, as Philip easily read them, were: +"Fancy my letting this vulgar fool into the Tate Street workshop! +Even HE would know that old masters are not found in a +half-finished state on Chelsea-made frames and canvases. Fancy my +letting him see those two half-completed Van Dycks, the new Hals, +the half-dozen Corots. He would even see his own copy of +Velasquez next to the one exactly like it--the one MacMillan +finished yesterday and that I am sending to Oporto, where next +year, in a convent, we shall 'discover' it." + +Philip's surprise gave way to intense amusement. In his delight +at the situation upon which he had stumbled, he laughed aloud. +The two men, who had risen, surprised at the spectacle of a young +man laughing at nothing, turned and stared. Philip also rose. + +"Pardon me," he said to Faust, "but you spoke so loud I couldn't +help overhearing. I think we've met before, when I was a reporter +on the Republic." + +The Pittsburgh millionaire made a pretense, of annoyance. + +"Really!" he protested irritably, "you reporters butt in +everywhere. No public man is safe. Is there no place we can go +where you fellows won't annoy us?" + +"You can go to the devil for all I care," said Philip, "or even +to Pittsburgh!" + +He saw the waiter bearing down upon him with the imitation +cocktail, and moved to meet it. The millionaire, fearing the +reporter would escape him, hastily changed his tone. He spoke +with effective resignation. + +"However, since you've learned so much," he said, "I'll tell you +the whole of it. I don't want the fact garbled, for it is of +international importance. Do you know what a Velasquez is?" + +"Do you?" asked Philip. + +The millionaire smiled tolerantly. + +"I think I do," he said. "And to prove it, I shall tell you +something that will be news to you. I have just bought a +Velasquez that I am going to place in my art museum. It is worth +three hundred thousand dollars." + +Philip accepted the cocktail the waiter presented. It was quite +as bad as he had expected. + +"Now, I shall tell you something," he said, "that will be news to +you. You are not buying a Velasquez. It is no more a Velasquez +than this hair oil is a real cocktail. It is a bad copy, worth a +few dollars." + +"How dare you!" shouted Faust. "Are you mad?" + +The face of the German turned crimson with rage. + +"Who is this insolent one?" he sputtered. + +"I will make you a sporting proposition," said Philip. "You can +take it, or leave it. You two will get into a taxi. You will +drive to this man's studio in Tate Street. You will find your +Velasquez is there and not on its way to Liverpool. And you will +find one exactly like it, and a dozen other 'old masters' +half-finished. I'll bet you a hundred pounds I'm right! And I'll +bet this man a hundred pounds that he DOESN'T DARE TAKE YOU TO +HIS STUDIO!" + +"Indeed, I will not," roared the German. "It would be to insult +myself." + +"It would be an easy way to earn a hundred pounds, too," said +Philip. + +"How dare you insult the Baron?" demanded Faust. "What makes you +think--" + +"I don't think, I know!" said Philip. "For the price of a +taxi-cab fare to Tate Street, you win a hundred pounds." + +"We will all three go at once," cried the German. "My car is +outside. Wait here. I will have it brought to the door?" + +Faust protested indignantly. + +"Do not disturb yourself, Baron," he said; "just because a fresh +reporter--" + +But already the German had reached the hall. Nor did he stop +there. They saw him, without his hat, rush into Piccadilly, +spring into a taxi, and shout excitedly to the driver. The next +moment he had disappeared. + +"That's the last you'll see of him," said Philip. + +"His actions are certainly peculiar," gasped the millionaire. "He +did not wait for us. He didn't even wait for his hat! I think, +after all, I had better go to Tate Street." + +"Do so," said Philip, "and save yourself three hundred thousand +dollars, and from the laughter of two continents. You'll find me +here at lunch. If I'm wrong, I'll pay you a hundred pounds." + +"You should come with me," said Faust. "It is only fair to +yourself." + +"I'll take your word for what you find in the studio," said +Philip. "I cannot go. This is my busy day." + +Without further words, the millionaire collected his hat and +stick, and, in his turn, entered a taxi-cab and disappeared. + +Philip returned to the Louis Quatorze chair and lit a cigarette. +Save for the two elderly gentlemen on the sofa, the lounge was +still empty, and his reflections were undisturbed. He shook his +head sadly. + +"Surely," Philip thought, "the French chap was right who said +words were given us to conceal our thoughts. What a strange world +it would be if every one possessed my power. Deception would be +quite futile and lying would become a lost art. I wonder," he +mused cynically, "is any one quite honest? Does any one speak as +he thinks and think as he speaks?" + +At once came a direct answer to his question. The two elderly +gentlemen had risen and, before separating, had halted a few feet +from him. + +"I sincerely hope, Sir John," said one of the two, "that you have +no regrets. I hope you believe that I have advised you in the +best interests of all?" + +"I do, indeed," the other replied heartily "We shall be thought +entirely selfish; but you know and I know that what we have done +is for the benefit of the shareholders." + +Philip was pleased to find that the thoughts of each of the old +gentlemen ran hand in hand with his spoken words. "Here, at +least," he said to himself, "are two honest men." + +As though loath to part, the two gentlemen still lingered. + +"And I hope," continued the one addressed as Sir John, "that you +approve of my holding back the public announcement of the combine +until the afternoon. It will give the shareholders a better +chance. Had we given out the news in this morning's papers the +stockbrokers would have--" + +"It was most wise," interrupted the other. "Most just." + +The one called Sir John bowed himself away, leaving the other +still standing at the steps of the lounge. With his hands behind +his back, his chin sunk on his chest, he remained, gazing at +nothing, his thoughts far away. + +Philip found them thoughts of curious interest. They were +concerned with three flags. Now, the gentleman considered them +separately; and Philip saw the emblems painted clearly in colors, +fluttering and flattened by the breeze. Again, the gentleman +considered them in various combinations; but always, in whatever +order his mind arranged them, of the three his heart spoke always +to the same flag, as the heart of a mother reaches toward her +firstborn. + +Then the thoughts were diverted; and in his mind's eye the old +gentleman was watching the launching of a little schooner from a +shipyard on the Clyde. At her main flew one of the three flags--a +flag with a red cross on a white ground. With thoughts tender and +grateful, he followed her to strange, hot ports, through +hurricanes and tidal waves; he saw her return again and again to +the London docks, laden with odorous coffee, mahogany, red +rubber, and raw bullion. He saw sister ships follow in her wake +to every port in the South Sea; saw steam packets take the place +of the ships with sails; saw the steam packets give way to great +ocean liners, each a floating village, each equipped, as no +village is equipped, with a giant power house, thousands of +electric lamps, suite after suite of silk-lined boudoirs, with +the floating harps that vibrate to a love message three hundred +miles away, to the fierce call for help from a sinking ship. But +at the main of each great vessel there still flew the same +house-flag--the red cross on the field of white--only now in the +arms of the cross there nestled proudly a royal crown. + +Philip cast a scared glance at the old gentleman, and raced down +the corridor to the telephone. + +Of all the young Englishmen he knew, Maddox was his best friend +and a stock-broker. In that latter capacity Philip had never +before addressed him. Now he demanded his instant presence at the +telephone. + +Maddox greeted him genially, but Philip cut him short. + +"I want you to act for me," he whispered, "and act quick! I want +you to buy for me one thousand shares of the Royal Mail Line, of +the Elder-Dempster, and of the Union Castle." + +He heard Maddox laugh indulgently. + +"There's nothing in that yarn of a combine," he called. "It has +fallen through. Besides, shares are at fifteen pounds." + +Philip, having in his possession a second-class ticket and a +five-pound note, was indifferent to that, and said so. + +"I don't care what they are," he shouted. "The combine is already +signed and sealed, and no one knows it but myself. In an hour +everybody will know it!" + +"What makes you think you know it?" demanded the broker. + +"I've seen the house-flags!" cried Philip. "I have--do as I tell +you," he commanded. + +There was a distracting delay. + +"No matter who's back of you," objected Maddox, "it's a big order +on a gamble." + +"It's not a gamble," cried Philip. "It's an accomplished fact. +I'm at the Ritz. Call me up there. Start buying now, and, when +you've got a thousand of each, stop!" + +Philip was much too agitated to go far from the telephone booth; +so for half an hour he sat in the reading-room, forcing himself +to read the illustrated papers. When he found he had read the +same advertisement five times, he returned to the telephone. The +telephone boy met him half-way with a message. + +"Have secured for you a thousand shares of each," he read, "at +fifteen. Maddox." + +Like a man awakening from a nightmare, Philip tried to separate +the horror of the situation from the cold fact. The cold fact was +sufficiently horrible. It was that, without a penny to pay for +them, he had bought shares in three steamship lines, which +shares, added together, were worth two hundred and twenty five +thousand dollars. He returned down the corridor toward the +lounge. Trembling at his own audacity, he was in a state of +almost complete panic, when that happened which made his +outrageous speculation of little consequence. It was drawing near +to half-past one; and, in the persons of several smart men and +beautiful ladies, the component parts of different luncheon +parties were beginning to assemble. + +Of the luncheon to which Lady Woodcote had invited him, only one +guest had arrived; but, so far as Philip was concerned, that one +was sufficient. It was Helen herself, seated alone, with her eyes +fixed on the doors opening from Piccadilly. Philip, his heart +singing with appeals, blessings, and adoration, ran toward her. +Her profile was toward him, and she could not see him; but he +could see her. And he noted that, as though seeking some one, her +eyes were turned searchingly upon each young man as he entered +and moved from one to another of those already in the lounge. Her +expression was eager and anxious. + +"If only," Philip exclaimed, "she were looking for me! She +certainly is looking for some man. I wonder who it can be?" + +As suddenly as if he had slapped his face into a wall, he halted +in his steps. Why should he wonder? Why did he not read her mind? +Why did he not KNOW? A waiter was hastening toward him. Philip +fixed his mind upon the waiter, and his eyes as well. Mentally +Philip demanded of him: "Of what are you thinking?" + +There was no response. And then, seeing an unlit cigarette +hanging from Philip's lips, the waiter hastily struck a match and +proffered it. Obviously, his mind had worked, first, in observing +the half-burned cigarette; next, in furnishing the necessary +match. And of no step in that mental process had Philip been +conscious! The conclusion was only too apparent. His power was +gone. No longer was he a mind reader! + +Hastily Philip reviewed the adventures of the morning. As he +considered them, the moral was obvious. The moment he had used +his power to his own advantage, he had lost it. So long as he had +exerted it for the happiness of the two lovers, to save the life +of the King, to thwart the dishonesty of a swindler, he had been +all-powerful; but when he endeavored to bend it to his own uses, +it had fled from him. As he stood abashed and repentant, Helen +turned her eyes toward him; and, at the sight of him, there +leaped to them happiness and welcome and complete content. It was +"the look that never was on land or sea," and it was not +necessary to be a mind reader to understand it. Philip sprang +toward her as quickly as a man dodges a taxi-cab. + +"I came early," said Helen, "because I wanted to talk to you +before the others arrived." She seemed to be repeating words +already rehearsed, to be following a course of conduct already +predetermined. "I want to tell you," she said, "that I am sorry +you are going away. I want to tell you that I shall miss you very +much." She paused and drew a long breath. And she looked at +Philip as if she was begging him to make it easier for her to go +on. + +Philip proceeded to make it easier. + +"Will you miss me," he asked, "in the Row, where I used to wait +among the trees to see you ride past? Will you miss me at dances, +where I used to hide behind the dowagers to watch you waltzing +by? Will you miss me at night, when you come home by sunrise, and +I am not hiding against the railings of the Carlton Club, just to +see you run across the pavement from your carriage, just to see +the light on your window blind, just to see the light go out, and +to know that you are sleeping?" + +Helen's eyes were smiling happily. She looked away from him. + +"Did you use to do that?" she asked. + +"Every night I do that," said Philip. "Ask the policemen! They +arrested me three times." + +"Why?" said Helen gently. + +But Philip was not yet free to speak, so he said: + +"They thought I was a burglar." + +Helen frowned. He was making it very hard for her. + +"You know what I mean," she said. "Why did you keep guard outside +my window?" + +"It was the policeman kept guard," said Philip. "I was there only +as a burglar. I came to rob. But I was a coward, or else I had a +conscience, or else I knew my own unworthiness." There was a long +pause. As both of them, whenever they heard the tune afterward, +always remembered, the Hungarian band, with rare inconsequence, +was playing the "Grizzly Bear," and people were trying to speak +to Helen. By her they were received with a look of so complete a +lack of recognition, and by Philip with a glare of such savage +hate, that they retreated in dismay. The pause seemed to last for +many years. + +At last Helen said: "Do you know the story of the two roses? They +grew in a garden under a lady's window. They both loved her. One +looked up at her from the ground and sighed for her; but the +other climbed to the lady's window, and she lifted him in and +kissed him--because he had dared to climb." + +Philip took out his watch and looked at it. But Helen did not +mind his doing that, because she saw that his eyes were filled +with tears. She was delighted to find that she was making it very +hard for him, too. + +"At any moment," Philip said, "I may know whether I owe two +hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars which I can never pay, +or whether I am worth about that sum. I should like to continue +this conversation at the exact place where you last spoke--AFTER +I know whether I am going to jail, or whether I am worth a +quarter of a million dollars." + +Helen laughed aloud with happiness. + +"I knew that was it!" she cried. "You don't like my money. I was +afraid you did not like ME. If you dislike my money, I will give +it away, or I will give it to you to keep for me. The money does +not matter, so long as you don't dislike me." + +What Philip would have said to that, Helen could not know, for a +page in many buttons rushed at him with a message from the +telephone, and with a hand that trembled Philip snatched it. It +read: "Combine is announced, shares have gone to thirty-one, +shall I hold or sell?" + +That at such a crisis he should permit of any interruption hurt +Helen deeply. She regarded him with unhappy eyes. Philip read the +message three times. At last, and not without uneasy doubts as to +his own sanity, he grasped the preposterous truth. He was worth +almost a quarter of a million dollars! At the page he shoved his +last and only five-pound note. He pushed the boy from him. + +"Run!" he commanded. "Get out of here, Tell him he is to SELL!" + +He turned to Helen with a look in his eyes that could not be +questioned or denied. He seemed incapable of speech, and, to +break the silence, Helen said: "Is it good news?" + +"That depends entirely upon you," replied Philip soberly. +"Indeed, all my future life depends upon what you are going to +say next." + +Helen breathed deeply and happily. + +"And--what am I going to say?" + +"How can I know that?" demanded Philip. "Am I a mind reader?" + +But what she said may be safely guessed from the fact that they +both chucked Lady Woodcotes luncheon, and ate one of penny buns, +which they shared with the bears in Regents Park. + +Philip was just able to pay for the penny buns. Helen paid for +the taxi-cab. + + + +Chapter 7. THE NAKED MAN + +In their home town of Keepsburg, the Keeps were the reigning +dynasty, socially and in every way. Old man Keep was president of +the trolley line, the telephone company, and the Keep National +Bank. But Fred, his son, and the heir apparent, did not inherit +the business ability of his father; or, if he did, he took pains +to conceal that fact. Fred had gone through Harvard, but as to +that also, unless he told people, they would not have known it. +Ten minutes after Fred met a man he generally told him. + +When Fred arranged an alliance with Winnie Platt, who also was of +the innermost inner set of Keepsburg, everybody said Keepsburg +would soon lose them. And everybody was right. When single, each +had sighed for other social worlds to conquer, and when they +combined their fortunes and ambitions they found Keepsburg +impossible, and they left it to lay siege to New York. They were +too crafty to at once attack New York itself. A widow lady they +met while on their honeymoon at Palm Beach had told them not to +attempt that. And she was the Palm Beach correspondent of a +society paper they naturally accepted her advice. She warned them +that in New York the waiting-list is already interminable, and +that, if you hoped to break into New York society, the clever +thing to do was to lay siege to it by way of the suburbs and the +country clubs. If you went direct to New York knowing no one, you +would at once expose that fact, and the result would be +disastrous. + +She told them of a couple like themselves, young and rich and +from the West, who, at the first dance to which they were +invited, asked, "Who is the old lady in the wig?" and that +question argued them so unknown that it set them back two years. +It was a terrible story, and it filled the Keeps with misgivings. +They agreed with the lady correspondent that it was far better to +advance leisurely; first firmly to intrench themselves in the +suburbs, and then to enter New York, not as the Keeps from +Keepsburg, which meant nothing, but as the Fred Keeps of Long +Island, or Westchester, or Bordentown. + +"In all of those places," explained the widow lady, "our smartest +people have country homes, and at the country club you may get to +know them. Then, when winter comes, you follow them on to the +city." + +The point from which the Keeps elected to launch their attack was +Scarboro-on-the-Hudson. They selected Scarboro because both of +them could play golf, and they planned that their first skirmish +should be fought and won upon the golf-links of the Sleepy Hollow +Country Club. But the attack did not succeed. Something went +wrong. They began to fear that the lady correspondent had given +them the wrong dope. For, although three months had passed, and +they had played golf together until they were as loath to clasp a +golf club as a red-hot poker, they knew no one, and no one knew +them. That is, they did not know the Van Wardens; and if you +lived at Scarboro and were not recognized by the Van Wardens, you +were not to be found on any map. + +Since the days of Hendrik Hudson the country-seat of the Van +Wardens had looked down upon the river that bears his name, and +ever since those days the Van Wardens had looked down upon +everybody else. They were so proud that at all their gates they +had placed signs reading, "No horses allowed. Take the other +road." The other road was an earth road used by tradespeople from +Ossining; the road reserved for the Van Wardens, and automobiles, +was of bluestone. It helped greatly to give the Van Warden estate +the appearance of a well kept cemetery. And those Van Wardens who +occupied the country-place were as cold and unsociable as the +sort of people who occupy cemeteries--except "Harry" Van Warden, +and she lived in New York at the Turf Club. + +Harry, according to all local tradition--for he frequently +motored out to Warden Koopf, the Van Warden country-seat--and, +according to the newspapers, was a devil of a fellow and in no +sense cold or unsociable. So far as the Keeps read of him, he was +always being arrested for overspeeding, or breaking his +collar-bone out hunting, or losing his front teeth at polo. This +greatly annoyed the proud sisters at Warden Koopf; not because +Harry was arrested or had broken his collar-bone, but because it +dragged the family name into the newspapers. + +"If you would only play polo or ride to hounds instead of playing +golf," sighed Winnie Keep to her husband, "you would meet Harry +Van Warden, and he'd introduce you to his sisters, and then we +could break in anywhere." + +"If I was to ride to hounds," returned her husband, "the only +thing I'd break would be my neck." + +The country-place of the Keeps was completely satisfactory, and +for the purposes of their social comedy the stage-setting was +perfect. The house was one they had rented from a man of charming +taste and inflated fortune; and with it they had taken over his +well-disciplined butler, his pictures, furniture, family silver, +and linen. It stood upon an eminence, was heavily wooded, and +surrounded by many gardens; but its chief attraction was an +artificial lake well stocked with trout that lay directly below +the terrace of the house and also in full view from the road to +Albany. + +This latter fact caused Winnie Keep much concern. In the +neighborhood were many Italian laborers, and on several nights +the fish had tempted these born poachers to trespass; and more +than once, on hot summer evenings, small boys from Tarrytown and +Ossining had broken through the hedge, and used the lake as a +swimming-pool. + +"It makes me nervous," complained Winnie. "I don't like the idea +of people prowling around so near the house. And think of those +twelve hundred convicts, not one mile away, in Sing Sing. Most of +them are burglars, and if they ever get out, our house is the +very first one they'll break into." + +"I haven't caught anybody in this neighborhood breaking into our +house yet," said Fred, "and I'd be glad to see even a burglar!" + +They were seated on the brick terrace that overlooked the lake. +It was just before the dinner hour, and the dusk of a wonderful +October night had fallen on the hedges, the clumps of evergreens, +the rows of close-clipped box. A full moon was just showing +itself above the tree-tops, turning the lake into moving silver. +Fred rose from his wicker chair and, crossing to his young bride, +touched her hair fearfully with the tips of his fingers. + +"What if we don't know anybody, Win," he said, "and nobody knows +us? It's been a perfectly good honeymoon, hasn't it? If you just +look at it that way, it works out all right. We came here really +for our honeymoon, to be together, to be alone--" + +Winnie laughed shortly. "They certainly have left us alone!" she +sighed. + +"But where else could we have been any happier?" demanded the +young husband loyally. "Where will you find any prettier place +than this, just as it is at this minute, so still and sweet and +silent? There's nothing the matter with that moon, is there? +Nothing the matter with the lake? Where's there a better place +for a honeymoon? It's a bower--a bower of peace, solitude +a--bower of--" + +As though mocking his words, there burst upon the sleeping +countryside the shriek of a giant siren. It was raucous, +virulent, insulting. It came as sharply as a scream of terror, it +continued in a bellow of rage. Then, as suddenly as it had cried +aloud, it sank to silence; only after a pause of an instant, as +though giving a signal, to shriek again in two sharp blasts. And +then again it broke into the hideous long drawn scream of rage, +insistent, breathless, commanding; filling the soul of him who +heard it, even of the innocent, with alarm. + +"In the name of Heaven!" gasped Keep, "what's that?" + +Down the terrace the butler was hastening toward them. When he +stopped, he spoke as though he were announcing dinner. "A +convict, sir," he said, "has escaped from Sing Sing. I thought +you might not understand the whistle. I thought perhaps you would +wish Mrs. Keep to come in-doors." + +"Why?" asked Winnie Keep. + +"The house is near the road, madam," said the butler. "And there +are so many trees and bushes. Last summer two of them hid here, +and the keepers--there was a fight." The man glanced at Keep. +Fred touched his wife on the arm. + +"It's time to dress for dinner, Win," he said. + +"And what are you going to do?" demanded Winnie. + +I'm going to finish this cigar first. It doesn't take me long to +change." He turned to the butler. "And I'll have a cocktail, too +I'll have it out here." + +The servant left them, but in the French window that opened from +the terrace to the library Mrs. Keep lingered irresolutely. +"Fred," she begged, "you--you're not going to poke around in the +bushes, are you?--just because you think I'm frightened?" + +Her husband laughed at her. "I certainly am NOT!" he said. "And +you're not frightened, either. Go in. I'll be with you in a +minute." + +But the girl hesitated. Still shattering the silence of the night +the siren shrieked relentlessly; it seemed to be at their very +door, to beat and buffet the window-panes. The bride shivered and +held her fingers to her ears. + +"Why don't they stop it!" she whispered. "Why don't they give him +a chance!" + +When she had gone, Fred pulled one of the wicker chairs to the +edge of the terrace, and, leaning forward with his chin in his +hands, sat staring down at the lake. The moon had cleared the +tops of the trees, had blotted the lawns with black, rigid +squares, had disguised the hedges with wavering shadows. +Somewhere near at hand a criminal--a murderer, burglar, thug--was +at large, and the voice of the prison he had tricked still +bellowed in rage, in amazement, still clamored not only for his +person but perhaps for his life. The whole countryside heard it: +the farmers bedding down their cattle for the night; the guests +of the Briar Cliff Inn, dining under red candle shades; the joy +riders from the city, racing their cars along the Albany road. It +woke the echoes of Sleepy Hollow. It crossed the Hudson. The +granite walls of the Palisades flung it back against the granite +walls of the prison. Whichever way the convict turned, it hunted +him, reaching for him, pointing him out--stirring in the heart of +each who heard it the lust of the hunter, which never is so cruel +as when the hunted thing is a man. + +"Find him!" shrieked the siren. "Find him! He's there, behind +your hedge! He's kneeling by the stone wall. THAT'S he running in +the moonlight. THAT'S he crawling through the dead leaves! Stop +him! Drag him down! He's mine! Mine!" + +But from within the prison, from within the gray walls that made +the home of the siren, each of twelve hundred men cursed it with +his soul. Each, clinging to the bars of his cell, each, trembling +with a fearful joy, each, his thumbs up, urging on with all the +strength of his will the hunted, rat-like figure that stumbled +panting through the crisp October night, bewildered by strange +lights, beset by shadows, staggering and falling, running like a +mad dog in circles, knowing that wherever his feet led him the +siren still held him by the heels. + +As a rule, when Winnie Keep was dressing for dinner, Fred, in the +room adjoining, could hear her unconsciously and light-heartedly +singing to herself. It was a habit of hers that he loved. But on +this night, although her room was directly above where he sat +upon the terrace, he heard no singing. He had been on the terrace +for a quarter of an hour. Gridley, the aged butler who was rented +with the house, and who for twenty years had been an inmate of +it, had brought the cocktail and taken away the empty glass. And +Keep had been alone with his thoughts. They were entirely of the +convict. If the man suddenly confronted him and begged his aid, +what would he do? He knew quite well what he would do. He +considered even the means by which he would assist the fugitive +to a successful get-away. + +The ethics of the question did not concern Fred. He did not weigh +his duty to the State of New York, or to society. One day, when +he had visited "the institution," as a somewhat sensitive +neighborhood prefers to speak of it, he was told that the chance +of a prisoner's escaping from Sing Sing and not being at once +retaken was one out of six thousand. So with Fred it was largely +a sporting proposition. Any man who could beat a +six-thousand-to-one shot commanded his admiration. + +And, having settled his own course of action, he tried to imagine +himself in the place of the man who at that very moment was +endeavoring to escape. Were he that man, he would first, he +decided, rid himself of his tell-tale clothing. But that would +leave him naked, and in Westchester County a naked man would be +quite as conspicuous as one in the purple-gray cloth of the +prison. How could he obtain clothes? He might hold up a +passer-by, and, if the passer-by did not flee from him or punch +him into insensibility, he might effect an exchange of garments; +he might by threats obtain them from some farmer; he might +despoil a scarecrow. + +But with none of these plans was Fred entirely satisfied. The +question deeply perplexed him. How best could a naked man clothe +himself? And as he sat pondering that point, from the bushes a +naked man emerged. He was not entirely undraped. For around his +nakedness he had drawn a canvas awning. Fred recognized it as +having been torn from one of the row-boats in the lake. But, +except for that, the man was naked to his heels. He was a young +man of Fred's own age. His hair was cut close, his face +smooth-shaven, and above his eye was a half-healed bruise. He +had the sharp, clever, rat-like face of one who lived by evil +knowledge. Water dripped from him, and either for that reason or +from fright the young man trembled, and, like one who had been +running, breathed in short, hard gasps. + +Fred was surprised to find that he was not in the least +surprised. It was as though he had been waiting for the man, as +though it had been an appointment. + +Two thoughts alone concerned him: that before he could rid +himself of his visitor his wife might return and take alarm, and +that the man, not knowing his friendly intentions, and in a state +to commit murder, might rush him. But the stranger made no +hostile move, and for a moment in the moonlight the two young men +eyed each other warily. + +Then, taking breath and with a violent effort to stop the +chattering of his teeth, the stranger launched into his story. + +"I took a bath in your pond," he blurted forth, "and--and they +stole my clothes! That's why I'm like this!" + +Fred was consumed with envy. In comparison with this ingenious +narrative how prosaic and commonplace became his own plans to rid +himself of accusing garments and explain his nakedness. He +regarded the stranger with admiration. But even though he +applauded the other's invention, he could not let him suppose +that he was deceived by it. + +"Isn't it rather a cold night to take a bath?" he said. + +As though in hearty agreement, the naked man burst into a violent +fit of shivering. + +"It wasn't a bath," he gasped. "It was a bet!" + +"A what!" exclaimed Fred. His admiration was increasing. "A bet? +Then you are not alone?" + +"I am NOW--damn them!" exclaimed the naked one. He began again +reluctantly. "We saw you from the road, you and a woman, sitting +here in the light from that room. They bet me I didn't dare strip +and swim across your pond with you sitting so near. I can see now +it was framed up on me from the start. For when I was swimming +back I saw them run to where I'd left my clothes, and then I +heard them crank up, and when I got to the hedge the car was +gone!" + +Keep smiled encouragingly. "The car!" he assented. "So you've +been riding around in the moonlight?" + +The other nodded, and was about to speak when there burst in upon +them the roaring scream of the siren. The note now was of deeper +rage, and came in greater volume. Between his clinched teeth the +naked one cursed fiercely, and then, as though to avoid further +questions, burst into a fit of coughing. Trembling and shaking, +he drew the canvas cloak closer to him. But at no time did his +anxious, prying eyes leave the eyes of Keep. + +"You--you couldn't lend me a suit of clothes could you?" he +stuttered. "Just for to-night? I'll send them back. It's all +right," he added; reassuringly. "I live near here." + +With a start Keep raised his eyes, and distressed by his look, +the young man continued less confidently. + +"I don't blame you if you don't believe it," he stammered, +"seeing me like this; but I DO live right near here. Everybody +around here knows me, and I guess you've read about me in the +papers, too. I'm--that is, my name--" like one about to take a +plunge he drew a short breath, and the rat-like eyes regarded +Keep watchfully--"my name is Van Warden. I'm the one you read +about--Harry--I'm Harry Van Warden!" + +After a pause, slowly and reprovingly Fred shook his head; but +his smile was kindly even regretful, as though he were sorry he +could not longer enjoy the stranger's confidences. + +"My boy!" he exclaimed, "you're MORE than Van Warden! You're a +genius!" He rose and made a peremptory gesture. "Sorry," he said, +"but this isn't safe for either of us. Follow me, and I'll dress +you up and send you where you want to go." He turned and +whispered over his shoulder: "Some day let me hear from you. A +man with your nerve--" + +In alarm the naked one with a gesture commanded silence. + +The library led to the front hall. In this was the coat-room. +First making sure the library and hall were free of servants, +Fred tiptoed to the coat-room and, opening the door, switched: on +the electric light. The naked man, leaving in his wake a trail of +damp footprints, followed at his heels. + +Fred pointed at golf-capes, sweaters, greatcoats hanging from +hooks, and on the floor at boots and overshoes. + +"Put on that motor-coat and the galoshes," he commanded. "They'll +cover you in case you have to run for it. I'm going to leave you +here while I get you some clothes. If any of the servants butt +in, don't lose your head. Just say you're waiting to see me--Mr. +Keep. I won't be long. Wait." + +"Wait!" snorted the stranger. "You BET I'll wait!' + +As Fred closed the door upon him, the naked one was rubbing +himself violently with Mrs. Keep's yellow golf-jacket. + +In his own room Fred collected a suit of blue serge, a tennis +shirt, boots, even a tie. Underclothes he found ready laid out +for him, and he snatched them from the bed. From a roll of money +in his bureau drawer he counted out a hundred dollars. Tactfully +he slipped the money in the trousers pocket of the serge suit and +with the bundle of clothes in his arms raced downstairs and +shoved them into the coat-room. + +"Don't come out until I knock," he commanded. "And," he added in +a vehement whisper, "don't come out at all unless you have +clothes on!" + +The stranger grunted. + +Fred rang for Gridley and told him to have his car brought around +to the door. He wanted it to start at once within two minutes. +When the butler had departed, Fred, by an inch, again opened the +coat-room door. The stranger had draped himself in the +underclothes and the shirt, and at the moment was carefully +arranging the tie. + +"Hurry!" commanded Keep. "The car'll be here in a minute. Where +shall I tell him to take you?" + +The stranger chuckled excitedly; his confidence seemed to be +returning. "New York," he whispered, "fast as he can get there! +Look here," he added doubtfully, "there's a roll of bills in +these clothes." + +"They're yours," said Fred. + +The stranger exclaimed vigorously. "You're all right!" he +whispered. "I won't forget this, or you either. I'll send the +money back same time I send the clothes." + +"Exactly!" said Fred. + +The wheels of the touring-car crunched on the gravel drive, and +Fred slammed to the door, and like a sentry on guard paced before +it. After a period which seemed to stretch over many minutes +there came from the inside a cautious knocking. With equal +caution Fred opened the door of the width of a finger, and put +his ear to the crack. + +"You couldn't find me a button-hook, could you?" whispered the +stranger. + +Indignantly Fred shut the door and, walking to the veranda, +hailed the chauffeur. James, the chauffeur, was a Keepsburg boy, +and when Keep had gone to Cambridge James had accompanied him. +Keep knew the boy could be trusted. + +"You're to take a man to New York," he said, "or wherever he +wants to go. Don't talk to him. Don't ask any questions. So, if +YOU'RE questioned, you can say you know nothing. That's for your +own good!" + +The chauffeur mechanically touched his cap and started down the +steps. As he did so, the prison whistle, still unsatisfied, still +demanding its prey, shattered the silence. As though it had hit +him a physical blow, the youth jumped. He turned and lifted +startled, inquiring eyes to where Keep stood above him. + +"I told you," said Keep, "to ask no questions. + +As Fred re-entered the hall, Winnie Keep was coming down the +stairs toward him. She had changed to one of the prettiest +evening gowns of her trousseau, and so outrageously lovely was +the combination of herself and the gown that her husband's +excitement and anxiety fell from him, and he was lost in +admiration. But he was not for long lost. To his horror; the door +of the coat-closet opened toward his wife and out of the closet +the stranger emerged. Winnie, not accustomed to seeing young men +suddenly appear from among the dust-coats, uttered a sharp +shriek. + +With what he considered great presence of mind, Fred swung upon +the visitor + +"Did you fix it?" he demanded. + +The visitor did not heed him. In amazement in abject admiration, +his eyes were fastened upon the beautiful and radiant vision +presented by Winnie Keep. But he also still preserved sufficient +presence of mind to nod his head dully. + +"Come," commanded Fred. "The car is waiting." + +Still the stranger did not move. As though he had never before +seen a woman, as though her dazzling loveliness held him in a +trance, he stood still, gazing, gaping, devouring Winnie with his +eyes. In her turn, Winnie beheld a strange youth who looked like +a groom out of livery, so overcome by her mere presence as to be +struck motionless and inarticulate. For protection she moved in +some alarm toward her husband. + +The stranger gave a sudden jerk of his body that might have been +intended for a bow. Before Keep could interrupt him, like a +parrot reciting its lesson, he exclaimed explosively: + +"My name's Van Warden. I'm Harry Van Warden." + +He seemed as little convinced of the truth of his statement as +though he had announced that he was the Czar of Russia. It was as +though a stage-manager had drilled him in the lines. + +But upon Winnie, as her husband saw to his dismay, the words +produced an instant and appalling effect. She fairly radiated +excitement and delight. How her husband had succeeded in +capturing the social prize of Scarboro she could not imagine, +but, for doing so, she flashed toward him a glance of deep and +grateful devotion. + +Then she beamed upon the stranger. "Won't Mr. Van Warden stay to +dinner?" she asked. + +Her husband emitted a howl. "He will NOT!" he cried. "He's not +that kind of a Van Warden. He's a plumber. He's the man that +fixes the telephone!" + +He seized the visitor by the sleeve of the long motor-coat and +dragged him down the steps. Reluctantly, almost resistingly, the +visitor stumbled after him, casting backward amazed glances at +the beautiful lady. Fred thrust him into the seat beside the +chauffeur. Pointing at the golf-cap and automobile goggles which +the stranger was stupidly twisting in his hands, Fred whispered +fiercely: + +"Put those on! Cover your face! Don't speak! The man knows what +to do." + +With eager eyes and parted lips James the chauffeur was waiting +for the signal. Fred nodded sharply, and the chauffeur stooped to +throw in the clutch. But the car did not start. From the hedge +beside the driveway, directly in front of the wheels, something +on all fours threw itself upon the gravel; something in a suit of +purple-gray; something torn and bleeding, smeared with sweat and +dirt; something that cringed and crawled, that tried to rise and +sank back upon its knees, lifting to the glare of the head-lights +the white face and white hair of a very old, old man. The +kneeling figure sobbed; the sobs rising from far down in the pit +of the stomach, wrenching the body like waves of nausea. The man +stretched his arms toward them. From long disuse his voice +cracked and broke. + +"I'm done!" he sobbed. "I can't go no farther! I give myself up!" + +Above the awful silence that held the four young people, the +prison siren shrieked in one long, mocking howl of triumph. + +It was the stranger who was the first to act. Pushing past Fred, +and slipping from his own shoulders the long motor-coat, he +flung it over the suit of purple-gray. The goggles he clapped +upon the old man's frightened eyes, the golf-cap he pulled down +over the white hair. With one arm he lifted the convict, and with +the other dragged and pushed him into the seat beside the +chauffeur. Into the hands of the chauffeur he thrust the roll of +bills. + +"Get him away!" he ordered. "It's only twelve miles to the +Connecticut line. As soon as you're across, buy him clothes and a +ticket to Boston. Go through White Plains to Greenwich--and then +you're safe!" + +As though suddenly remembering the presence of the owner of the +car, he swung upon Fred. "Am I right?" he demanded. + +"Of course!" roared Fred. He flung his arm at the chauffeur as +though throwing him into space. + +"Get-to-hell-out-of-here!" he shouted. + +The chauffeur, by profession a criminal, but by birth a human +being, chuckled savagely and this time threw in the clutch. With +a grinding of gravel the racing-car leaped into the night, its +ruby rear lamp winking in farewell, its tiny siren answering the +great siren of the prison in jeering notes of joy and victory. + +Fred had supposed that at the last moment the younger convict +proposed to leap to the running-board, but instead the stranger +remained motionless. + +Fred shouted impotently after the flying car. In dismay he seized +the stranger by the arm. + +"But you?" he demanded. "How are you going to get away?" + +The stranger turned appealingly to where upon the upper step +stood Winnie Keep. + +"I don't want to get away," he said. "I was hoping, maybe, you'd +let me stay to dinner." + +A terrible and icy chill crept down the spine of Fred Keep. He +moved so that the light from the hall fell full upon the face of +the stranger. + +"Will you kindly tell me," Fred demanded, "who the devil you +are?" + +The stranger exclaimed peevishly. "I've BEEN telling you all +evening," he protested. "I'm Harry Van Warden!" + +Gridley, the ancient butler, appeared in the open door. + +"Dinner is served, madam," he said. + +The stranger gave an exclamation of pleasure. "Hello, Gridley!" +he cried. "Will you please tell Mr. Keep who I am? Tell him, if +he'll ask me to dinner, I won't steal the spoons." + +Upon the face of Gridley appeared a smile it never had been the +privilege of Fred Keep to behold. The butler beamed upon the +stranger fondly, proudly, by the right of long acquaintanceship, +with the affection of an old friend. Still beaming, he bowed to +Keep. + +"If Mr. Harry--Mr. Van Warden," he said, "is to stay to dinner, +might I suggest, sir, he is very partial to the Paul Vibert, +'84." + +Fred Keep gazed stupidly from his butler to the stranger and then +at his wife. She was again radiantly beautiful and smilingly +happy. + +Gridley coughed tentatively. "Shall I open a bottle, sir?" he +asked. + +Hopelessly Fred tossed his arms heavenward. + +"Open a case!" he roared. + +At ten o'clock, when they were still at table and reaching a +state of such mutual appreciation that soon they would be calling +each other by their first names, Gridley brought in a written +message he had taken from the telephone. It was a long-distance +call from Yonkers, sent by James, the faithful chauffeur. + +Fred read it aloud. + +"I got that party the articles he needed," it read, "and saw him +safe on a train to Boston. On the way back I got arrested for +speeding the car on the way down. Please send money. I am in a +cell in Yonkers." + + + +Chapter 8. THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF + +Before he finally arrested him, "Jimmie" Sniffen had seen the man +with the golf-cap, and the blue eyes that laughed at you, three +times. Twice, unexpectedly, he had come upon him in a wood road +and once on Round Hill where the stranger was pretending to watch +the sunset. Jimmie knew people do not climb hills merely to look +at sunsets, so he was not deceived. He guessed the man was a +German spy seeking gun sites, and secretly vowed to "stalk" him. +From that moment, had the stranger known it, he was as good as +dead. For a boy scout with badges on his sleeve for "stalking" +and "path-finding," not to boast of others for "gardening" and +"cooking," can outwit any spy. Even had, General Baden-Powell +remained in Mafeking and not invented the boy scout, Jimmie +Sniffen would have been one. Because, by birth he was a boy, and +by inheritance, a scout. In Westchester County the Sniffens are +one of the county families. If it isn't a Sarles, it's a Sniffen; +and with Brundages, Platts, and Jays, the Sniffens date back to +when the acres of the first Charles Ferris ran from the Boston +post road to the coach road to Albany, and when the first +Gouverneur Morris stood on one of his hills and saw the Indian +canoes in the Hudson and in the Sound and rejoiced that all the +land between belonged to him. + +If you do not believe in heredity, the fact that Jimmie's +great-great-grandfather was a scout for General Washington and +hunted deer, and even bear, over exactly the same hills where +Jimmie hunted weasles will count for nothing. It will not explain +why to Jimmie, from Tarrytown to Port Chester, the hills, the +roads, the woods, and the cow-paths, caves, streams, and springs +hidden in the woods were as familiar as his own kitchen garden, + +Nor explain why, when you could not see a Pease and Elliman "For +Sale" sign nailed to a tree, Jimmie could see in the highest +branches a last year's bird's nest. + +Or why, when he was out alone playing Indians and had sunk his +scout's axe into a fallen log and then scalped the log, he felt +that once before in those same woods he had trailed that same +Indian, and with his own tomahawk split open his skull. Sometimes +when he knelt to drink at a secret spring in the forest, the +autumn leaves would crackle and he would raise his eyes fearing +to see a panther facing him. + +But there ain't no panthers in Westchester," Jimmie would +reassure himself. And in the distance the roar of an automobile +climbing a hill with the muffler open would seem to suggest he +was right. But still Jimmie remembered once before he had knelt +at that same spring, and that when he raised his eyes he had +faced a crouching panther. "Mebbe dad told me it happened to +grandpop," Jimmie would explain, "or I dreamed it, or, mebbe, I +read it in a story book." + +The "German spy" mania attacked Round Hill after the visit to the +boy scouts of Clavering Gould, the war correspondent. He was +spending the week end with "Squire" Harry Van Vorst, and as young +Van Vorst, besides being a justice of the peace and a Master of +Beagles and President of the Country Club, was also a local +"councilman" for the Round Hill Scouts, he brought his guest to a +camp-fire meeting to talk to them. In deference to his audience, +Gould told them of the boy scouts he had seen in Belgium and of +the part they were playing in the great war. It was his +peroration that made trouble. + +"And any day," he assured his audience, "this country may be at +war with Germany; and every one of you boys will be expected to +do his bit. You can begin now. When the Germans land it will be +near New Haven, or New Bedford. They will first capture the +munition works at Springfield, Hartford, and Watervliet so as to +make sure of their ammunition, and then they will start for New +York City. They will follow the New Haven and New York Central +railroads, and march straight through this village. I haven't the +least doubt," exclaimed the enthusiastic war prophet, "that at +this moment German spies are as thick in Westchester as +blackberries. They are here to select camp sites and gun +positions, to find out which of these hills enfilade the others +and to learn to what extent their armies can live on the country. +They are counting the cows, the horses, the barns where fodder is +stored; and they are marking down on their maps the wells and +streams." + +As though at that moment a German spy might be crouching behind +the door, Mr. Gould spoke in a whisper. "Keep your eyes open!" he +commanded. "Watch every stranger. If he acts suspiciously, get +word quick to your sheriff, or to Judge Van Vorst here. Remember +the scouts' motto, 'Be prepared!'" + +That night as the scouts walked home, behind each wall and +hayrick they saw spiked helmets. + +Young Van Vorst was extremely annoyed. + +"Next time you talk to my scouts," he declared, you'll talk on +'Votes for Women.' After what you said to-night every real estate +agent who dares open a map will be arrested. We're not trying to +drive people away from Westchester, we're trying to sell them +building sites." + +"YOU are not!" retorted his friend, "you own half the county now, +and you're trying to buy the other half." + +"I'm a justice of the peace," explained Van Vorst. "I don't know +WHY I am, except that they wished it on me. All I get out of it +is trouble. The Italians make charges against my best friends for +overspeeding and I have to fine them, and my best friends bring +charges against the Italians for poaching, and when I fine the +Italians, they send me Black Hand letters. And now every day I'll +be asked to issue a warrant for a German spy who is selecting gun +sites. And he will turn out to be a millionaire who is tired of +living at the Ritz-Carlton and wants to 'own his own home' and +his own golf-links. And he'll be so hot at being arrested that +he'll take his millions to Long Island and try to break into the +Piping Rock Club. And, it will be your fault!" + +The young justice of the peace was right. At least so far as +Jimmie Sniffen was concerned, the words of the war prophet had +filled one mind with unrest. In the past Jimmie's idea of a +holiday had been to spend it scouting in the woods. In this +pleasure he was selfish. He did not want companions who talked, +and trampled upon the dead leaves so that they frightened the +wild animals and gave the Indians warning. Jimmie liked to +pretend. He liked to fill the woods with wary and hostile +adversaries. It was a game of his own inventing. If he crept to +the top of a hill and on peering over it, surprised a fat +woodchuck, he pretended the woodchuck was a bear, weighing two +hundred pounds; if, himself unobserved, he could lie and watch, +off its guard, a rabbit, squirrel, or, most difficult of all, a +crow, it became a deer and that night at supper Jimmie made +believe he was eating venison. Sometimes he was a scout of the +Continental Army and carried despatches to General Washington. +The rules of that game were that if any man ploughing in the +fields, or cutting trees in the woods, or even approaching along +the same road, saw Jimmie before Jimmie saw him, Jimmie was taken +prisoner, and before sunrise was shot as a spy. He was seldom +shot. Or else why on his sleeve was the badge for "stalking." But +always to have to make believe became monotonous. Even "dry +shopping" along the Rue de la Paix when you pretend you can have +anything you see in any window, leaves one just as rich, but +unsatisfied. So the advice of the war correspondent to seek out +German spies came to Jimmie like a day at the circus, like a week +at the Danbury Fair. It not only was a call to arms, to protect +his flag and home, but a chance to play in earnest the game in +which he most delighted. No longer need he pretend. No longer +need he waste his energies in watching, unobserved, a greedy +rabbit rob a carrot field. The game now was his fellow-man and +his enemy; not only his enemy, but the enemy of his country. + +In his first effort Jimmie was not entirely successful. The man +looked the part perfectly; he wore an auburn beard, disguising +spectacles, and he carried a suspicious knapsack. But he turned +out to be a professor from the Museum of Natural History, who +wanted to dig for Indian arrow-heads. And when Jimmie threatened +to arrest him, the indignant gentleman arrested Jimmie. Jimmie +escaped only by leading the professor to a secret cave of his +own, though on some one else's property, where one not only could +dig for arrow-heads, but find them. The professor was delighted, +but for Jimmie it was a great disappointment. The week following +Jimmie was again disappointed. + +On the bank of the Kensico Reservoir, he came upon a man who was +acting in a mysterious and suspicious manner. He was making notes +in a book, and his runabout which he had concealed in a wood road +was stuffed with blue-prints. It did not take Jimmie long to +guess his purpose. He was planning to blow up the Kensico dam, +and cut off the water supply of New York City. Seven millions of +people without water! With out firing a shot, New York must +surrender! At the thought Jimmie shuddered, and at the risk of +his life by clinging to the tail of a motor truck, he followed +the runabout into White Plains. But there it developed the +mysterious stranger, so far from wishing to destroy the Kensico +dam, was the State Engineer who had built it, and, also, a large +part of the Panama Canal. Nor in his third effort was Jimmie more +successful. From the heights of Pound Ridge he discovered on a +hilltop below him a man working alone upon a basin of concrete. +The man was a German-American, and already on Jimmie's list of +"suspects." That for the use of the German artillery he was +preparing a concrete bed for a siege gun was only too evident. +But closer investigation proved that the concrete was only two +inches thick. And the hyphenated one explained that the basin was +built over a spring, in the waters of which he planned to erect a +fountain and raise gold fish. It was a bitter blow. Jimmie became +discouraged. Meeting Judge Van Vorst one day in the road he told +him his troubles. The young judge proved unsympathetic. "My +advice to you, Jimmie," he said, "is to go slow. Accusing +everybody of espionage is a very serious matter. If you call a +man a spy, it's sometimes hard for him to disprove it; and the +name sticks. So, go slow--very slow. Before you arrest any more +people, come to me first for a warrant." + +So, the next time Jimmie proceeded with caution. + +Besides being a farmer in a small way, Jimmie's father was a +handy man with tools. He had no union card, but, in laying +shingles along a blue chalk line, few were as expert. It was +August, there was no school, and Jimmie was carrying a +dinner-pail to where his father was at work on a new barn. He +made a cross-cut through the woods, and came upon the young man +in the golf-cap. The stranger nodded, and his eyes, which seemed +to be always laughing, smiled pleasantly. But he was deeply +tanned, and, from the waist up, held himself like a soldier, so, +at once, Jimmie mistrusted him. Early the next morning Jimmie met +him again. It had not been raining, but the clothes of the young +man were damp. Jimmie guessed that while the dew was still on the +leaves the young man had been forcing his way through underbrush. +The stranger must have remembered Jimmie, for he laughed and +exclaimed: + +"Ah, my friend with the dinner-pail! It's luck you haven't got it +now, or I'd hold you up. I'm starving!" + +Jimmie smiled in sympathy. "It's early to be hungry," said +Jimmie; "when did you have your breakfast?" + +"I didn't," laughed the young man. "I went out to walk up an +appetite, and I lost myself. But, I haven't lost my appetite. +Which is the shortest way back to Bedford?" + +"The first road to your right," said Jimmie. + +"Is it far?" asked the stranger anxiously. That he was very +hungry was evident. + +"It's a half-hour's walk," said Jimmie + +"If I live that long," corrected the young man; and stepped out +briskly. + +Jimmie knew that within a hundred yards a turn in the road would +shut him from sight. So, he gave the stranger time to walk that +distance, and, then, diving into the wood that lined the road, +"stalked" him. From behind a tree he saw the stranger turn and +look back, and seeing no one in the road behind him, also leave +it and plunge into the woods. + +He had not turned toward Bedford; he had turned to the left. Like +a runner stealing bases, Jimmie slipped from tree to tree. Ahead +of him he heard the stranger trampling upon dead twigs, moving +rapidly as one who knew his way. At times through the branches +Jimmie could see the broad shoulders of the stranger, and again +could follow his progress only by the noise of the crackling +twigs. When the noises ceased, Jimmie guessed the stranger had +reached the wood road, grass-grown and moss-covered, that led to +Middle Patent. So, he ran at right angles until he also reached +it, and as now he was close to where it entered the main road, he +approached warily. But, he was too late. There was a sound like +the whir of a rising partridge, and ahead of him from where it +had been hidden, a gray touring-car leaped into the highway. The +stranger was at the wheel. Throwing behind it a cloud of dust, +the car raced toward Greenwich. Jimmie had time to note only that +it bore a Connecticut State license; that in the wheel-ruts the +tires printed little V's, like arrow-heads. + +For a week Jimmie saw nothing of the spy, but for many hot and +dusty miles he stalked arrow-heads. They lured him north, they +lured him south, they were stamped in soft asphalt, in mud, dust, +and fresh-spread tarvia. Wherever Jimmie walked, arrow-heads ran +before. In his sleep as in his copy-book, he saw endless chains +of V's. But not once could he catch up with the wheels that +printed them. A week later, just at sunset as he passed below +Round Hill, he saw the stranger on top of it. On the skyline, in +silhouette against the sinking sun, he was as conspicuous as a +flagstaff. But to approach him was impossible. For acres Round +Hill offered no other cover than stubble. It was as bald as a +skull. Until the stranger chose to descend, Jimmie must wait. And +the stranger was in no haste. The sun sank and from the west +Jimmie saw him turn his face east toward the Sound. A storm was +gathering, drops of rain began to splash and as the sky grew +black the figure on the hilltop faded into the darkness. And +then, at the very spot where Jimmie had last seen it, there +suddenly flared two tiny flashes of fire. Jimmie leaped from +cover. It was no longer to be endured. The spy was signalling. +The time for caution had passed, now was the time to act. Jimmie +raced to the top of the hill, and found it empty. He plunged down +it, vaulted a stone wall, forced his way through a tangle of +saplings, and held his breath to listen. Just beyond him, over a +jumble of rocks, a hidden stream was tripping and tumbling. +Joyfully, it laughed and gurgled. Jimmie turned hot. It sounded +as though from the darkness the spy mocked him. Jimmie shook his +fist at the enshrouding darkness. Above the tumult of the coming +storm and the tossing tree-tops, he raised his voice. + +"You wait!" he shouted. "I'll get you yet! Next time, I'll bring +a gun." + +Next time, was the next morning. There had been a hawk hovering +over the chicken yard, and Jimmie used that fact to explain his +borrowing the family shotgun. He loaded it with buckshot, and, in +the pocket of his shirt buttoned his license to "hunt, pursue and +kill, to take with traps or other devices." + +He remembered that Judge Van Vorst had warned him, before he +arrested more spies, to come to him for a warrant. But with an +impatient shake of the head Jimmie tossed the recollection from +him. After what he had seen he could not possibly be again +mistaken. He did not need a warrant. What he had seen was his +warrant--plus the shotgun. + +As a "pathfinder" should, he planned to take up the trail where +he had lost it, but, before he reached Round Hill, he found a +warmer trail. Before him, stamped clearly in the road still damp +from the rain of the night before, two lines of little +arrow-heads pointed the way. They were so fresh that at each +twist in the road, lest the car should be just beyond him, Jimmie +slackened his steps. After half a mile the scent grew hot. The +tracks were deeper, the arrow-heads more clearly cut, and Jimmie +broke into a run. Then, the arrow-heads swung suddenly to the +right, and in a clearing at the edge of a wood, were lost. But +the tires had pressed deep into the grass, and just inside the +wood, he found the car. It was empty. Jimmie was drawn two ways. +Should he seek the spy on the nearest hilltop, or, until the +owner returned, wait by the car. Between lying in ambush and +action, Jimmie preferred action. But, he did not climb the hill +nearest the car; he climbed the hill that overlooked that hill. + +Flat on the ground, hidden in the golden-rod he lay motionless. +Before him, for fifteen miles stretched hills and tiny valleys. +Six miles away to his right rose the stone steeple, and the red +roofs of Greenwich. Directly before him were no signs of +habitation, only green forests, green fields, gray stone walls, +and, where a road ran up-hill, a splash of white, that quivered +in the heat. The storm of the night before had washed the air. +Each leaf stood by itself. Nothing stirred; and in the glare of +the August sun every detail of the landscape was as distinct as +those in a colored photograph; and as still. + +In his excitement the scout was trembling. + +"If he moves," he sighed happily, "I've got him!" + +Opposite, across a little valley was the hill at the base of +which he had found the car. The slope toward him was bare, but +the top was crowned with a thick wood; and along its crest, as +though establishing an ancient boundary, ran a stone wall, +moss-covered and wrapped in poison-ivy. In places, the branches +of the trees, reaching out to the sun, overhung the wall and hid +it in black shadows. Jimmie divided the hill into sectors. He +began at the right, and slowly followed the wall. With his eyes +he took it apart, stone by stone. Had a chipmunk raised his head, +Jimmie would have seen him. So, when from the stone wall, like +the reflection of the sun upon a window-pane, something flashed, +Jimmie knew he had found his spy. A pair of binoculars had +betrayed him. Jimmie now saw him clearly. He sat on the ground at +the top of the hill opposite, in the deep shadow of an oak, his +back against the stone wall. With the binoculars to his eyes he +had leaned too far forward, and upon the glass the sun had +flashed a warning. + +Jimmie appreciated that his attack must be made from the rear. +Backward, like a crab he wriggled free of the golden-rod, and +hidden by the contour of the hill, raced down it and into the +woods on the hill opposite. When he came to within twenty feet of +the oak beneath which he had seen the stranger, he stood erect, +and as though avoiding a live wire, stepped on tip-toe to the +wall. The stranger still sat against it. The binoculars hung from +a cord around his neck. Across his knees was spread a map. He was +marking it with a pencil, and as he worked, he hummed a tune. + +Jimmie knelt, and resting the gun on the top of the wall, covered +him. + +"Throw up your hands!" he commanded. + +The stranger did not start. Except that he raised his eyes he +gave no sign that he had heard. His eyes stared across the little +sun-filled valley. They were half closed as though in study, as +though perplexed by some deep and intricate problem. They +appeared to see beyond the sun-filled valley some place of +greater moment, some place far distant. + +Then the eyes smiled, and slowly, as though his neck were stiff, +but still smiling, the stranger turned his head. When he saw the +boy, his smile was swept away in waves of surprise, amazement, +and disbelief. These were followed instantly by an expression of +the most acute alarm. "Don't point that thing at me!" shouted the +stranger. "Is it loaded?" With his cheek pressed to the stock and +his eye squinted down the length of the brown barrel, Jimmie +nodded. The stranger flung up his open palms. They accented his +expression of amazed incredulity. He seemed to be exclaiming, +"Can such things be?" + +"Get up!" commanded Jimmie. + +With alacrity the stranger rose. + +"Walk over there," ordered the scout. "Walk backward. Stop! Take +off those field-glasses and throw them to me." Without removing +his eyes from the gun the stranger lifted the binoculars from his +neck and tossed them to the stone wall. "See here!" he pleaded, +"if you'll only point that damned blunderbuss the other way, you +can have the glasses, and my watch, and clothes, and all my +money; only don't--" + +Jimmie flushed crimson. "You can't bribe me," he growled. At +least, he tried to growl, but because his voice was changing, or +because he was excited the growl ended in a high squeak. With +mortification, Jimmie flushed a deeper crimson. But the stranger +was not amused. At Jimmie's words he seemed rather the more +amazed. + +"I'm not trying to bribe you," he protested. "If you don't want +anything, why are you holding me up?" + +"I'm not," returned Jimmie, "I'm arresting you!" + +The stranger laughed with relief. Again his eyes smiled. "Oh," he +cried, "I see! Have I been trespassing?" + +With a glance Jimmie measured the distance between himself and +the stranger. Reassured, he lifted one leg after the other over +the wall. "If you try to rush me," he warned, "I'll shoot you +full of buckshot." + +The stranger took a hasty step BACKWARD. "Don't worry about +that," he exclaimed. "I'll not rush you. Why am I arrested?" + +Hugging the shotgun with his left arm, Jimmie stopped and lifted +the binoculars. He gave them a swift glance, slung them over his +shoulder, and again clutched his weapon. His expression was now +stern and menacing. + +"The name on them" he accused, "is 'Weiss, Berlin.' Is that your +name?" The stranger smiled, but corrected himself, and replied +gravely, "That's the name of the firm that makes them." + +Jimmie exclaimed in triumph. "Hah!" he cried, "made in Germany!" + +The stranger shook his head. + +"I don't understand," he said. "Where WOULD a Weiss glass be +made?" With polite insistence he repeated, "Would you mind +telling me why I am arrested, and who you might happen to be?" + +Jimmie did not answer. Again he stooped and picked up the map, +and as he did so, for the first time the face of the stranger +showed that he was annoyed. Jimmie was not at home with maps. +They told him nothing. But the penciled notes on this one made +easy reading. At his first glance he saw, "Correct range, 1,800 +yards"; "this stream not fordable"; "slope of hill 15 degrees +inaccessible for artillery." "Wire entanglements here"; "forage +for five squadrons." + +Jimmie's eyes flashed. He shoved the map inside his shirt, and +with the gun motioned toward the base of the hill. "Keep forty +feet ahead of me," he commanded, "and walk to your car." The +stranger did not seem to hear him. He spoke with irritation. + +"I suppose," he said, "I'll have to explain to you about that +map." + +"Not to me, you won't," declared his captor. "You're going to +drive straight to Judge Van Vorst's, and explain to HIM!" + +The stranger tossed his arms even higher. "Thank God!" he +exclaimed gratefully. + +With his prisoner Jimmie encountered no further trouble. He made +a willing captive. And if in covering the five miles to Judge Van +Vorst's he exceeded the speed limit, the fact that from the rear +seat Jimmie held the shotgun against the base of his skull was an +extenuating circumstance. + +They arrived in the nick of time. In his own car young Van Vorst +and a bag of golf clubs were just drawing away from the house. +Seeing the car climbing the steep driveway that for a half-mile +led from his lodge to his front door, and seeing Jimmie standing +in the tonneau brandishing a gun, the Judge hastily descended. +The sight of the spy hunter filled him with misgiving, but the +sight of him gave Jimmie sweet relief. Arresting German spies for +a small boy is no easy task. For Jimmie the strain was great. And +now that he knew he had successfully delivered him into the hands +of the law, Jimmie's heart rose with happiness. The added +presence of a butler of magnificent bearing and of an athletic +looking chauffeur increased his sense of security. Their presence +seemed to afford a feeling of security to the prisoner also. As +he brought the car to a halt, he breathed a sigh. It was a sigh +of deep relief. + +Jimmie fell from the tonneau. In concealing his sense of triumph, +he was not entirety successful. + +"I got him!" he cried. "I didn't make no mistake about THIS one!" + +"What one?" demanded Van Vorst. + +Jimmie pointed dramatically at his prisoner. With an anxious +expression the stranger was tenderly fingering the back of his +head. He seemed to wish to assure himself that it was still +there. + +"THAT one!" cried Jimmie. "He's a German spy!" + +The patience of Judge Van Vorst fell from him. In his exclamation +was indignation, anger, reproach. + +"Jimmie!" he cried. + +Jimmie thrust into his hand the map. It was his "Exhibit A." +"Look what he's wrote," commanded the scout. "It's all military +words. And these are his glasses. I took 'em off him. They're +made in GERMANY! I been stalking him for a week. He's a spy!" + +When Jimmie thrust the map before his face, Van Vorst had glanced +at it. Then he regarded it more closely. As he raised his eyes +they showed that he was puzzled. + +But he greeted the prisoner politely. + +"I'm extremely sorry you've been annoyed," he said. "I'm only +glad it's no worse. He might have shot you. He's mad over the +idea that every stranger he sees--" + +The prisoner quickly interrupted. + +"Please!" he begged, "Don't blame the boy. He behaved extremely +well. Might I speak with you--ALONE?" he asked. + +Judge Van Vorst led the way across the terrace, and to the +smoking-room, that served also as his office, and closed the +door. The stranger walked directly to the mantelpiece and put his +finger on a gold cup. + +"I saw your mare win that at Belmont Park," he said. "She must +have been a great loss to you?" + +"She was," said Van Vorst. "The week before she broke her back, I +refused three thousand for her. Will you have a cigarette?" + +The stranger waved aside the cigarettes. + +"I brought you inside," he said, "because I didn't want your +servants to hear; and because I don't want to hurt that boy's +feelings. He's a fine boy; and he's a damned clever scout. I knew +he was following me and I threw him off twice, but to-day he +caught me fair. If I really had been a German spy, I couldn't +have got away from him. And I want him to think he has captured a +German spy. Because he deserves just as much credit as though he +had, and because it's best he shouldn't know whom he DID +capture." + +Van Vorst pointed to the map. "My bet is," he said, "that you're +an officer of the State militia, taking notes for the fall +manoeuvres. Am I right?" + +The stranger smiled in approval, but shook his head. + +"You're warm," he said, "but it's more serious than manoeuvres. +It's the Real Thing." From his pocketbook he took a visiting card +and laid it on the table. "I'm 'Sherry' McCoy," he said, "Captain +of Artillery in the United States Army." He nodded to the hand +telephone on the table. + +"You can call up Governor's Island and get General Wood or his +aide, Captain Dorey, on the phone. They sent me here. Ask THEM. +I'm not picking out gun sites for the Germans; I'm picking out +positions of defense for Americans when the Germans come!" + +Van Vorst laughed derisively. + +"My word!" he exclaimed. "You're as bad as Jimmie!" + +Captain McCoy regarded him with disfavor. + +"And you, sir," he retorted, "are as bad as ninety million other +Americans. You WON'T believe! When the Germans are shelling this +hill, when they're taking your hunters to pull their cook-wagons, +maybe, you'll believe THEN." + +"Are you serious?" demanded Van Vorst. "And you an army officer?" + +"That's why I am serious," returned McCoy. "WE know. But when we +try to prepare for what is coming, we must do it secretly--in +underhand ways, for fear the newspapers will get hold of it and +ridicule us, and accuse us of trying to drag the country into +war. That's why we have to prepare under cover. That's why I've +had to skulk around these hills like a chicken thief. And," he +added sharply, "that's why that boy must not know who I am. If he +does, the General Staff will get a calling down at Washington, +and I'll have my ears boxed." + +Van Vorst moved to the door. + +"He will never learn the truth from me," he said. "For I will +tell him you are to be shot at sunrise." + +"Good!" laughed the Captain. "And tell me his name. If ever we +fight over Westchester County, I want that lad for my chief of +scouts. And give him this. Tell him to buy a new scout uniform. +Tell him it comes from you." + +But no money could reconcile Jimmie to the sentence imposed upon +his captive. He received the news with a howl of anguish. "You +mustn't," he begged; "I never knowed you'd shoot him! I wouldn't +have caught him, if I'd knowed that. I couldn't sleep if I +thought he was going to be shot at sunrise." At the prospect of +unending nightmares Jimmie's voice shook with terror. "Make it +for twenty years," he begged. "Make it for ten," he coaxed, "but, +please, promise you won't shoot him." + +When Van Vorst returned to Captain McCoy, he was smiling, and the +butler who followed, bearing a tray and tinkling glasses, was +trying not to smile. + +"I gave Jimmie your ten dollars," said Van Vorst, "and made it +twenty, and he has gone home. You will be glad to hear that he +begged me to spare your life, and that your sentence has been +commuted to twenty years in a fortress. I drink to your good +fortune." + +"No!" protested Captain McCoy, "We will drink to Jimmie!" + +When Captain McCoy had driven away, and his own car and the golf +clubs had again been brought to the steps, Judge Van Vorst once +more attempted to depart; but he was again delayed. + +Other visitors were arriving. + +Up the driveway a touring-car approached, and though it limped on +a flat tire, it approached at reckless speed. The two men in the +front seat were white with dust; their faces, masked by +automobile glasses, were indistinguishable. As though preparing +for an immediate exit, the car swung in a circle until its nose +pointed down the driveway up which it had just come. Raising his +silk mask the one beside the driver shouted at Judge Van Vorst. +His throat was parched, his voice was hoarse and hot with anger. + +"A gray touring-car," he shouted. "It stopped here. We saw it +from that hill. Then the damn tire burst, and we lost our way. +Where did he go?" + +"Who?" demanded Van Vorst, stiffly, "Captain McCoy?" + +The man exploded with an oath. The driver with a shove of his +elbow, silenced him. + +"Yes, Captain McCoy," assented the driver eagerly. "Which way did +he go?" + +"To New York," said Van Vorst. + +The driver shrieked at his companion. + +"Then, he's doubled back," he cried. "He's gone to New Haven." He +stooped and threw in the clutch. The car lurched forward. + +A cold terror swept young Van Vorst. + +"What do you want with him?" he called "Who are you?" + +Over one shoulder the masked face glared at him. Above the roar +of the car the words of the driver were flung back. "We're Secret +Service from Washington," he shouted. "He's from their embassy. +He's a German spy!" + +Leaping and throbbing at sixty miles an hour, the car vanished in +a curtain of white, whirling dust. + + + +Chapter 9. THE CARD-SHARP + +I had looked forward to spending Christmas with some people in +Suffolk, and every one in London assured me that at their house +there would be the kind of a Christmas house party you hear about +but see only in the illustrated Christmas numbers. They promised +mistletoe, snapdragon, and Sir Roger de Coverley. On Christmas +morning we would walk to church, after luncheon we would shoot, +after dinner we would eat plum pudding floating in blazing +brandy, dance with the servants, and listen to the waits singing +"God rest you, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay." + +To a lone American bachelor stranded in London it sounded fine. +And in my gratitude I had already shipped to my hostess, for her +children, of whose age, number, and sex I was ignorant, half of +Gamage's dolls, skees, and cricket bats, and those crackers +that, when you pull them, sometimes explode. But it was not to +be. Most inconsiderately my wealthiest patient gained sufficient +courage to consent to an operation, and in all New York would +permit no one to lay violent hands upon him save myself. By cable +I advised postponement. Having lived in lawful harmony with his +appendix for fifty years, I thought, for one week longer he might +safely maintain the status quo. But his cable in reply was an +ultimatum. So, on Christmas eve, instead of Hallam Hall and a +Yule log, I was in a gale plunging and pitching off the coast of +Ireland, and the only log on board was the one the captain kept +to himself. + +I sat in the smoking-room, depressed and cross, and it must have +been on the principle that misery loves company that I +foregathered with Talbot, or rather that Talbot foregathered with +me. Certainty, under happier conditions and in haunts of men more +crowded, the open-faced manner in which he forced himself upon me +would have put me on my guard. But, either out of deference to +the holiday spirit, as manifested in the fictitious gayety of our +few fellow-passengers, or because the young man in a knowing, +impertinent way was most amusing, I listened to him from dinner +time until midnight, when the chief officer, hung with snow and +icicles, was blown in from the deck and wished all a merry +Christmas. + +Even after they unmasked Talbot I had neither the heart nor the +inclination to turn him down. Indeed, had not some of the +passengers testified that I belonged to a different profession, +the smoking-room crowd would have quarantined me as his +accomplice. On the first night I met him I was not certain +whether he was English or giving an imitation. All the outward +and visible signs were English, but he told me that, though he +had been educated at Oxford and since then had spent most of his +years in India, playing polo, he was an American. He seemed to +have spent much time, and according to himself much money, at the +French watering-places and on the Riviera. I felt sure that it +was in France I had already seen him, but where I could not +recall. He was hard to place. Of people at home and in London +well worth knowing he talked glibly, but in speaking of them he +made several slips. It was his taking the trouble to cover up the +slips that first made me wonder if his talking about himself was +not mere vanity, but had some special object. I felt he was +presenting letters of introduction in order that later he might +ask a favor. Whether he was leading up to an immediate loan, or +in New York would ask for a card to a club, or an introduction to +a banker, I could not tell. But in forcing himself upon me, +except in self-interest, I could think of no other motive. The +next evening I discovered the motive. + +He was in the smoking-room playing solitaire, and at once I +recalled that it was at Aix-les-Bains I had first seen him, and +that he held a bank at baccarat. When he asked me to sit down I +said: "I saw you last summer at Aix-les-Bains." + +His eyes fell to the pack in his hands and apparently searched it +for some particular card. + +"What was I doing?" he asked. + +"Dealing baccarat at the Casino des Fleurs." + +With obvious relief he laughed. + +"Oh, yes," he assented; "jolly place, Aix. But I lost a pot of +money there. I'm a rotten hand at cards. Can't win, and can't +leave 'em alone." As though for this weakness, so frankly +confessed, he begged me to excuse him, he smiled appealingly. +"Poker, bridge, chemin de fer, I like 'em all," he rattled on, +"but they don't like me. So I stick to solitaire. It's dull, but +cheap." He shuffled the cards clumsily. As though making +conversation, he asked: "You care for cards yourself?" + +I told him truthfully I did not know the difference between a +club and a spade and had no curiosity to learn. At this, when he +found he had been wasting time on me, I expected him to show some +sign of annoyance, even of irritation, but his disappointment +struck far deeper. As though I had hurt him physically, he shut +his eyes, and when again he opened them I saw in them distress. +For the moment I believe of my presence he was utterly +unconscious. His hands lay idle upon the table; like a man facing +a crisis, he stared before him. Quite improperly, I felt sorry +for him. In me he thought he had found a victim; and that the +loss of the few dollars he might have won should so deeply +disturb him showed his need was great. Almost at once he +abandoned me and I went on deck. When I returned an hour later to +the smoking-room he was deep in a game of poker. + +As I passed he hailed me gayly. + +"Don't scold, now," he laughed; "you know I can't keep away from +it." + +From his manner those at the table might have supposed we were +friends of long and happy companionship. I stopped behind his +chair, but he thought I had passed, and in reply to one of the +players answered: "Known him for years; he's set me right many a +time. When I broke my right femur 'chasin,' he got me back in the +saddle in six weeks. All my people swear by him." + +One of the players smiled up at me, and Talbot turned. But his +eyes met mine with perfect serenity. He even held up his cards +for me to see. "What would you draw?" he asked. + +His audacity so astonished me that in silence I could only stare +at him and walk on. + +When on deck he met me he was not even apologetic. Instead, as +though we were partners in crime, he chuckled delightedly. + +"Sorry," he said. "Had to do it. They weren't very keen at my +taking a hand, so I had to use your name. But I'm all right now," +he assured me. "They think you vouched for me, and to-night +they're going to raise the limit. I've convinced them I'm an easy +mark." + +"And I take it you are not," I said stiffly. + +He considered this unworthy of an answer and only smiled. Then +the smile died, and again in his eyes I saw distress, infinite +weariness, and fear. + +As though his thoughts drove him to seek protection, he came +closer. + +"I'm 'in bad,' doctor," he said. His voice was frightened, +bewildered, like that of a child. "I can't sleep; nerves all on +the loose. I don't think straight. I hear voices, and no one +around. I hear knockings at the door, and when I open it, no one +there. If I don't keep fit I can't work, and this trip I got to +make expenses. You couldn't help me, could you--couldn't give me +something to keep my head straight?" + +The need of my keeping his head straight that he might the easier +rob our fellow-passengers raised a pretty question of ethics. I +meanly dodged it. I told him professional etiquette required I +should leave him to the ship's surgeon. + +"But I don't know HIM," he protested. + +Mindful of the use he had made of my name, I objected +strenuously: + +"Well, you certainly don't know me." + +My resentment obviously puzzled him. + +"I know who you ARE," he returned. "You and I--"With a +deprecatory gesture, as though good taste forbade him saying who +we were, he stopped. "But the ship's surgeon!" he protested, +"he's an awful bounder! Besides," he added quite simply, "he's +watching me." + +"As a doctor," I asked, "or watching you play cards?" + +"Play cards," the young man answered. "I'm afraid he was ship's +surgeon on the P. & O. I came home on. There was trouble that +voyage, and I fancy he remembers me." + +His confidences were becoming a nuisance. + +"But you mustn't tell me that," I protested. "I can't have you +making trouble on this ship, too. How do you know I won't go +straight from here to the captain?" + +As though the suggestion greatly entertained him, he laughed. + +He made a mock obeisance. + +"I claim the seal of your profession," he said. "Nonsense," I +retorted. "It's a professional secret that your nerves are out of +hand, but that you are a card-sharp is NOT. Don't mix me up with +a priest." + +For a moment Talbot, as though fearing he had gone too far, +looked at me sharply; he bit his lower lip and frowned. + +"I got to make expenses," he muttered. "And, besides, all card +games are games of chance, and a card-sharp is one of the +chances. Anyway," he repeated, as though disposing of all +argument, "I got to make expenses." + +After dinner, when I came to the smoking-room, the poker party +sat waiting, and one of them asked if I knew where they could +find "my friend." I should have said then that Talbot was a +steamer acquaintance only; but I hate a row, and I let the +chance pass. + +"We want to give him his revenge," one of them volunteered. + +"He's losing, then?" I asked. + +The man chuckled complacently. + +"The only loser," he said. + +"I wouldn't worry," I advised. "He'll come for his revenge." + +That night after I had turned in he knocked at my door. I +switched on the lights and saw him standing at the foot of my +berth. I saw also that with difficulty he was holding himself in +hand. + +"I'm scared," he stammered, "scared!" + +I wrote out a requisition on the surgeon for a sleeping-potion +and sent it to him by the steward, giving the man to understand I +wanted it for myself. Uninvited, Talbot had seated himself on the +sofa. His eyes were closed, and as though he were cold he was +shivering and hugging himself in his arms. + +"Have you been drinking?" I asked. + +In surprise he opened his eyes. + +"I can't drink," he answered simply. "It's nerves and worry. I'm +tired." + +He relaxed against the cushions; his arms fell heavily at his +sides; the fingers lay open. + +"God," he whispered, "how tired I am!" + +In spite of his tan--and certainly he had led the out-of-door +life--his face showed white. For the moment he looked old, worn, +finished. + +"They're crowdin' me," the boy whispered. "They're always +crowdin' me." His voice was querulous, uncomprehending, like +that of a child complaining of something beyond his experience. +"I can't remember when they haven't been crowdin' me. Movin' me +on, you understand? Always movin' me on. Moved me out of India, +then Cairo, then they closed Paris, and now they've shut me out +of London. I opened a club there, very quiet, very exclusive, +smart neighborhood, too--a flat in Berkeley Street--roulette and +chemin de fer. I think it was my valet sold me out; anyway, they +came in and took us all to Bow Street. So I've plunged on this. +It's my last chance!" + +"This trip?" + +"No; my family in New York. Haven't seen 'em in ten years. They +paid me to live abroad. I'm gambling on THEM; gambling on their +takin' me back. I'm coming home as the Prodigal Son, tired of +filling my belly with the husks that the swine do eat; reformed +character, repentant and all that; want to follow the straight +and narrow; and they'll kill the fatted calf." He laughed +sardonically. "Like hell they will! They'd rather see ME killed." + +It seemed to me, if he wished his family to believe he were +returning repentant, his course in the smoking-room would not +help to reassure them. I suggested as much. + +"If you get into 'trouble,' as you call it," I said, "and they +send a wireless to the police to be at the wharf, your people +would hardly--" + +"I know," he interrupted; "but I got to chance that. I GOT to +make enough to go on with--until I see my family." + +"If they won't see you?" I asked. "What then?" + +He shrugged his shoulders and sighed lightly, almost with relief, +as though for him the prospect held no terror. + +"Then it's 'Good-night, nurse,'" he said. "And I won't be a +bother to anybody any more." + +I told him his nerves were talking, and talking rot, and I gave +him the sleeping-draft and sent him to bed. + +It was not until after luncheon the next day when he made his +first appearance on deck that I again saw my patient. He was once +more a healthy picture of a young Englishman of leisure; keen, +smart, and fit; ready for any exercise or sport. The particular +sport at which he was so expert I asked him to avoid. + +"Can't be done!" he assured me. "I'm the loser, and we dock +to-morrow morning. So tonight I've got to make my killing." + +It was the others who made the killing. + +I came into the smoking-room about nine o'clock. Talbot alone was +seated. The others were on their feet, and behind them in a wider +semicircle were passengers, the smoking-room stewards and the +ship's purser. + +Talbot sat with his back against the bulkhead, his hands in the +pockets of his dinner coat; from the corner of his mouth his long +cigarette-holder was cocked at an impudent angle. There was a +tumult of angry voices, and the eyes of all were turned upon him. +Outwardly at least he met them with complete indifference. The +voice of one of my countrymen, a noisy pest named Smedburg, was +raised in excited accusation. + +"When the ship's surgeon first met you," he cried, "you called +yourself Lord Ridley." + +"I'll call myself anything I jolly well like," returned Talbot. +"If I choose to dodge reporters, that's my pidgin. I don't have +to give my name to every meddling busybody that--" + +"You'll give it to the police, all right," chortled Mr. Smedburg. +In the confident, bullying tones of the man who knows the crowd +is with him, he shouted: "And in the meantime you'll keep out of +this smoking-room!" + +The chorus of assent was unanimous. It could not be disregarded. +Talbot rose and with fastidious concern brushed the cigarette +ashes from his sleeve. As he moved toward the door he called +back: "Only too delighted to keep out. The crowd in this room +makes a gentleman feel lonely." + +But he was not to escape with the last word. + +His prosecutor pointed his finger at him. + +"And the next time you take the name of Adolph Meyer," he +shouted, "make sure first he hasn't a friend on board; some one +to protect him from sharpers and swindlers--" + +Talbot turned savagely and then shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, go to the devil!" he called, and walked out into the night. + +The purser was standing at my side and, catching my eye, shook +his head. + +"Bad business," he exclaimed. + +"What happened?" I asked. + +"I'm told they caught him dealing from the wrong end of the +pack," he said. "I understand they suspected him from the +first--seems our surgeon recognized him--and to-night they had +outsiders watching him. The outsiders claim they saw him slip +himself an ace from the bottom of the pack. It's a pity! He's a +nice-looking lad." + +I asked what the excited Smedburg had meant by telling Talbot not +to call himself Meyer. + +"They accused him of travelling under a false name," explained +the purser, "and he told 'em he did it to dodge the ship's news +reporters. Then he said he really was a brother of Adolph Meyer, +the banker; but it seems Smedburg is a friend of Meyer's, and he +called him hard! It was a silly ass thing to do," protested the +purser. "Everybody knows Meyer hasn't a brother, and if he hadn't +made THAT break he might have got away with the other one. But +now this Smedburg is going to wireless ahead to Mr. Meyer and to +the police." + +"Has he no other way of spending his money?" I asked. + +"He's a confounded nuisance!" growled the purser. "He wants to +show us he knows Adolph Meyer; wants to put Meyer under an +obligation. It means a scene on the wharf, and newspaper talk; +and," he added with disgust, "these smoking-room rows never +helped any line." + +I went in search of Talbot; partly because I knew he was on the +verge of a collapse, partly, as I frankly admitted to myself, +because I was sorry the young man had come to grief. I searched +the snow-swept decks, and then, after threading my way through +faintly lit tunnels, I knocked at his cabin. The sound of his +voice gave me a distinct feeling of relief. But he would not +admit me. Through the closed door he declared he was "all right," +wanted no medical advice, and asked only to resume the sleep he +claimed I had broken. I left him, not without uneasiness, and the +next morning the sight of him still in the flesh was a genuine +thrill. I found him walking the deck carrying himself +nonchalantly and trying to appear unconscious of the +glances--amused, contemptuous, hostile--that were turned toward +him. He would have passed me without speaking, but I took his arm +and led him to the rail. We had long passed quarantine and a +convoy of tugs were butting us into the dock. + +"What are you going to do?" I asked. + +"Doesn't depend on me," he said. "Depends on Smedburg. He's a +busy little body!" + +The boy wanted me to think him unconcerned, but beneath the +flippancy I saw the nerves jerking. Then quite simply he began to +tell me. He spoke in a low, even monotone, dispassionately, as +though for him the incident no longer was of interest. + +"They were watching me," he said. "But I knew they were, and +besides, no matter how close they watched I could have done what +they said I did and they'd never have seen it. But I didn't." + +My scepticism must have been obvious, for he shook his head. + +"I didn't!" he repeated stubbornly. "I didn't have to! I was +playing in luck--wonderful luck--sheer, dumb luck. I couldn't +HELP winning. But because I was winning and because they were +watching, I was careful not to win on my own deal. I laid down, +or played to lose. It was the cards they GAVE me I won with. And +when they jumped me I told 'em that. I could have proved it if +they'd listened. But they were all up in the air, shouting and +spitting at me. They believed what they wanted to believe; they +didn't want the facts." + +It may have been credulous of me, but I felt the boy was telling +the truth, and I was deeply sorry he had not stuck to it. So, +rather harshly, I said: + +"They didn't want you to tell them you were a brother to Adolph +Meyer, either. Why did you think you could get away with anything +like that?" + +Talbot did not answer. + +"Why?" I insisted. + +The boy laughed impudently. + +"How the devil was I to know he hadn't a brother?" he protested. +"It was a good name, and he's a Jew, and two of the six who were +in the game are Jews. You know how they stick together. I thought +they might stick by me." + +"But you," I retorted impatiently, "are not a Jew!" + +"I am not," said Talbot, "but I've often SAID I was. It's +helped--lots of times. If I'd told you my name was Cohen, or +Selinsky, or Meyer, instead of Craig Talbot, YOU'D have thought +I was a Jew." He smiled and turned his face toward me. As though +furnishing a description for the police, he began to enumerate: + +"Hair, dark and curly; eyes, poppy; lips, full; nose, Roman or +Hebraic, according to taste. Do you see?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"But it didn't work," he concluded. "I picked the wrong Jew." + +His face grew serious. "Do you suppose that Smedburg person has +wirelessed that banker?" + +I told him I was afraid he had already sent the message. + +"And what will Meyer do?" he asked. "Will he drop it or make a +fuss? What sort is he?" + +Briefly I described Adolph Meyer. I explained him as the richest +Hebrew in New York; given to charity, to philanthropy, to the +betterment of his own race. + +"Then maybe," cried Talbot hopefully, "he won't make a row, and +my family won't hear of it!" + +He drew a quick breath of relief. As though a burden had been +lifted, his shoulders straightened. + +And then suddenly, harshly, in open panic, he exclaimed aloud: + +"Look!" he whispered. "There, at the end of the wharf--the little +Jew in furs!" + +I followed the direction of his eyes. Below us on the dock, +protected by two obvious members of the strong-arm squad, the +great banker, philanthropist, and Hebrew, Adolph Meyer, was +waiting. + +We were so close that I could read his face. It was stern, set; +the face of a man intent upon his duty, unrelenting. Without +question, of a bad business Mr. Smedburg had made the worst. I +turned to speak to Talbot and found him gone. + +His silent slipping away filled me with alarm. I fought against a +growing fear. How many minutes I searched for him I do not know. +It seemed many hours. His cabin, where first I sought him, was +empty and dismantled, and by that I was reminded that if for any +desperate purpose Talbot were seeking to conceal himself there +now were hundreds of other empty, dismantled cabins in which he +might hide. To my inquiries no one gave heed. In the confusion of +departure no one had observed him; no one was in a humor to seek +him out; the passengers were pressing to the gangway, the +stewards concerned only in counting their tips. From deck to +deck, down lane after lane of the great floating village, I +raced blindly, peering into half-opened doors, pushing through +groups of men, pursuing some one in the distance who appeared to +be the man I sought, only to find he was unknown to me. When I +returned to the gangway the last of the passengers was leaving +it. + +I was about to follow to seek for Talbot in the customs shed when +a white-faced steward touched my sleeve. Before he spoke his look +told me why I was wanted. + +"The ship's surgeon, sir," he stammered, "asks you please to +hurry to the sick-bay. A passenger has shot himself!" + +On the bed, propped up by pillows, young Talbot, with glazed, +shocked eyes, stared at me. His shirt had been cut away; his +chest lay bare. Against his left shoulder the doctor pressed a +tiny sponge which quickly darkened. + +I must have exclaimed aloud, for the doctor turned his eyes. + +"It was HE sent for you," he said, "but he doesn't need you. +Fortunately, he's a damned bad shot!" + +The boy's eyes opened wearily; before we could prevent it he +spoke. + +"I was so tired," he whispered. "Always moving me on. I was so +tired!" + +Behind me came heavy footsteps, and though with my arm I tried to +bar them out, the two detectives pushed into the doorway. They +shoved me to one side and through the passage made for him came +the Jew in the sable coat, Mr. Adolph Meyer. + +For an instant the little great man stood with wide, owl-like +eyes, staring at the face on the pillow. + +Then he sank softly to his knees. In both his hands he caught the +hand of the card-sharp. + +"Heine!" he begged. "Don't you know me? It is your brother +Adolph; your little brother Adolph!" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red Cross Girl by Richard Harding +Davis + |