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diff --git a/1733-h/1733-h.htm b/1733-h/1733-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8650da3 --- /dev/null +++ b/1733-h/1733-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9243 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Red Cross Girl, by Richard Harding Davis + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Cross Girl, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Red Cross Girl + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Commentator: Gouverneur Morris + +Release Date: November 6, 2008 [EBook #1733] +Last Updated: March 4, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED CROSS GIRL *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE RED CROSS GIRL + </h1> + <h3> + The Novels And Stories Of Richard Harding Davis + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + With An Introduction By Gouverneur Morris + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter 1. THE RED CROSS GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter 2. THE GRAND CROSS OF THE CRESCENT + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter 3. THE INVASION OF ENGLAND </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter 4. BLOOD WILL TELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter 5. THE SAILORMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter 6. THE MIND READER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter 7. THE NAKED MAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter 8. THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter 9. THE CARD-SHARP </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + R. H. D. + + “And they rise to their feet as he passes, gentlemen + unafraid.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But I did not set out to estimate his genius. That matter will come in due + time before the unerring tribunal of posterity. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + GOUVERNEUR MORRIS. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1. THE RED CROSS GIRL + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “When I was a reporter,” declared the city editor, “I used to be glad to + get a day in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you going to get his speech?”, asked Redding, the staff + photographer. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She was so lovely that Redding swung his hooded camera at her as swiftly + as a cowboy could have covered her with his gun. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + When again he looked at Sister Anne she was regarding him in alarm—obviously + she was upon the point of instant flight. + </p> + <p> + “You are a reporter?” she said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A reporter from the REPUBLIC,” repeated Sam. + </p> + <p> + “But why ask ME?” demanded Sister Anne. + </p> + <p> + Sam could see no reason for her question; in extenuation and explanation + he glanced at her uniform. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were at work here,” he said simply. “I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped aside as though he meant to leave her. In giving that + impression he was distinctly dishonest. + </p> + <p> + “There was no other reason,” persisted Sister Anne. “I mean for speaking + to me?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really scrub the floors?” he demanded—“I mean you yourself—down + on your knees, with a pail and water and scrubbing brush?” + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne raised her beautiful eyebrows and laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + “We do that when we first come here,” she said—“when we are + probationers. Is there a newer way of scrubbing floors?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “That's not exactly the object of a home for convalescents,” said Sister + Anne. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor is that quite the way we look at,” said Sister Anne. + </p> + <p> + “We?” demanded Sam. + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne nodded toward a group of nurse + </p> + <p> + “I'm not the only nurse here,” she said “There are over forty.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne laughed with delight. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Sam stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “No—pardon me,” said Sister Anne; “but your ideas of the duties of a + nurse are so quaint.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter what the duties are,” declared Sam; “You should not be here!” + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne shrugged her shoulders; they were charming shoulders—as + delicate as the pinions of a bird. + </p> + <p> + “One must live,” said Sister Anne. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that's it,” she repeated softly—“one must live.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If you do it because you must live, then it can easily be arranged; for + there are other ways of earning a living.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him quickly, but he was quite sincere—and again + she smiled. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Take type-writing, for instance. That pays very well. The hours are not + difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “And manicuring?” suggested Sister Anne. + </p> + <p> + Sam exclaimed in horror. + </p> + <p> + “You!” he cried roughly. “For you! Quite impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Why for me?” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't know that,” said Sister Anne. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Next Saturday,” said Sister Anne. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Sam in disappointment,—“then you know Central Park?” + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne's eyes grew quite expressionless. + </p> + <p> + “I once lived near there,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “In Harlem?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sam's heart was singing with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is you who are kind,” protested Sister Anne, “to take pity on me.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it,” said Sister Anne. “Where are we to meet?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne looked at him curiously and, so, it seemed, a little + wistfully. She held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I must go back to my duties,” she said. “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Sister Anne,” said the girl. “In the nursing order to which I belong we + have no last names.” + </p> + <p> + “So,” asked Sam, “I'll call you Sister Anne?” + </p> + <p> + “No; just Sister,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne gave an impatient, annoyed laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” she said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + There were a number of people at tea when she arrived and they greeted her + noisily. + </p> + <p> + “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....” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sister Anne exclaimed indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “He did not know me!” she protested. “It quite upset him that I should be + wasting my life measuring out medicines and making beds.” + </p> + <p> + There was a shriek of disbelief and laughter. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Anita!” protested the admiring chorus. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Anita!” shrieked the chorus. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What an awfully jolly rag!” he cried. “And what are you going to do about + it?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Call you what?” exclaimed the young man. “I will tell you,” he whispered, + “what I'd like to call you!” + </p> + <p> + “You will not!” interrupted Anita. “Do as I tell you and say Sister once. + Say it as though you meant it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't mean it,” protested his lordship. “I've said already what + I....” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what you've said already,” commanded Miss Flagg. “I've heard + that from a lot of people. Say Sister just once.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship frowned in embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Sister!” he exclaimed. It sounded like the pop of a cork. + </p> + <p> + Anita Flagg laughed unkindly and her beautiful shoulders shivered as + though she were cold. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit like it, Deptford,” she said. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + When she turned Miss Page saw something in her eyes that caused that young + woman to shriek with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Anita!” she exclaimed. “You crying! What in Heaven's name can make you + cry?” + </p> + <p> + It was not a kind speech, nor did Miss Flagg receive it kindly. She turned + upon the tactless intruder. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Anita!” exclaimed Miss Page. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “And why don't you?” cried Helen Page. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's what?” Sam demanded. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong?” he demanded. Over the room there fell a sudden hush. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all like that?” + </p> + <p> + “There's a column like that!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What's the idea, Ward?” he said. “This is a newspaper—not a + magazine!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + Collins, strong through many years of faithful service, backed by the + traditions of the profession, snorted scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “But it's not news!” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Daughter of Millionaire Flagg,” it read, “in a New Role, Miss Anita Flagg + as The Red Cross Girl.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Be still!” implored Helen Page. “Any one might think you meant it!” She + nodded violently at the discreet backs of the men-servants. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You're the very man I want,” said Hollworthy joyously—“you've got + to decide a bet.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and fell into step with Sam. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you lose,” he said. He halted to give Holworthy the hint to + leave him, but Holworthy had no such intention. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + With difficulty Sam smiled. + </p> + <p> + “So it would seem,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's so.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” cried Holworthy—“and that you invited her to see the + moving-picture shows?” + </p> + <p> + Sam, conscious of the dearly bought front row seats in his pocket, smiled + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Did she say I said that—or you?” he asked + </p> + <p> + “She did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I must have said it.” + </p> + <p> + Holworthy roared with amusement. + </p> + <p> + “And that you invited her to feed peanuts to the monkeys at the Zoo?” + </p> + <p> + Sam avoided the little man's prying eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I said that too.” + </p> + <p> + “And I thought she was making it up!” exclaimed Holworthy. “We did laugh. + You must see the fun of it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Lest Sam should fail to do so he proceeded to elaborate. + </p> + <p> + “You must see the fun in a man trying to make a date with Anita Flagg—just + as if she were nobody!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + An hour later at the office, when Sam was waiting for an assignment, the + telephone boy hurried to him, his eyes lit with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “You're wanted on the 'phone,” he commanded. His voice dropped to an awed + whisper. “Miss Anita Flagg wants to speak to you!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Say you can't find me,” he directed. The boy gasped, fled, and returned + precipitately. + </p> + <p> + “The lady says she wants your telephone number—says she must have + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her you don't know it; tell her it's against the rules—and + hang up.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Elliott introduced them and told Sam to be seated. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Last night I thought you liked the story, sir? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!”' + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Before Miss Page could venture upon an explanation, Anita Flagg had + changed into a very angry young woman. + </p> + <p> + “And what's more,” she announced, “he can't do it to me!” + </p> + <p> + She sent her telegram back again as it was, word for word, but this time + it was signed, “Sister Anne.” + </p> + <p> + In an hour the answer came: “Sister Anne is the person to whom I refer. + She is dead.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That's all she cares.” he told himself. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Telling him!” repeated Miss Flagg—“Telling him what?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Flagg interrupted with a gasping intake of her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said softly. “So-so you told him that, did you? And—what + else did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Did I tell you he said that?” breathed Anita Flagg. + </p> + <p> + “You know you did,” said Holworthy. + </p> + <p> + There was another pause. + </p> + <p> + “I must have been mad!” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + There was a longer pause and Holworthy shifted uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you are angry,” he ventured. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “This is the day you planned for me. Don't you think you've wasted quite + enough of it?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For a moment, too disturbed to speak, he looked at her, miserably, + remorsefully. + </p> + <p> + “It's not Anita Flagg at all,” he said. “It's Sister Anne come back to + life again!” The girl shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Say it again,” prompted Anita Flagg “Sister.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Anita Flagg's eyes left his quickly; and, with her head bent, she stared + at the bass drum in the orchestra. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said, “but that sounds just as good.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't make me laugh!” said Sam. + </p> + <p> + As they sat all together at supper with those of the box party, but paying + no attention to them whatsoever, Anita Flagg sighed contentedly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “My business is to gather news,” said Sam, “but in all my life I never + gathered such good news as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news!” exclaimed Anita. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” begged Anita. + </p> + <p> + “Some day,” said Sam. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Anita Flagg gazed with interest at a pursuing sea-gull. + </p> + <p> + “He is not on board,” she said. “He changed to another boat.” + </p> + <p> + Sam felt that by a word from her a great weight might be lifted from his + soul. He looked at her appealingly—hungrily. + </p> + <p> + “Why did he change?” he begged. + </p> + <p> + Anita Flagg shook her head in wonder. She smiled at him with amused + despair. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all that is worrying you?” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2. THE GRAND CROSS OF THE CRESCENT + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “In a history of Turkey issued as a text-book,” said the chancellor, “I + think the Russian-Turkish War should be included.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 Doctor Black could not afford to + be too particular. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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....” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be all right,” said Peter humbly; “I'll pass next fall.” + </p> + <p> + “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....” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Constantinople!” yelled Peter. “In August! Are you serious?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I look it?” asked Peter's father. He did. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You do!” said his father. + </p> + <p> + 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 the 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Peter spent fully ten minutes getting to the cable office. + </p> + <p> + “Just learned,” he cabled his father, “Gilman dismissed because flunked me + consider this outrageous please see he is reinstated.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Dismissing Gilman Looks more Like we acted through spite makes me appear + contemptible Black is a toady will do as you direct please reinstate.” + </p> + <p> + To this somewhat peremptory message his father answered: + </p> + <p> + “If your position unpleasant yourself to blame not Black incident is + closed.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Peter's paraphrase of this ran: “Gilman returns to Stillwater or I will + not try for degree.” + </p> + <p> + The reply was equally emphatic: + </p> + <p> + “You earn your degree or you earn your own living.” + </p> + <p> + This alarmed Stetson, but caused Peter to deliver his ultimatum: “Choose + to earn my own living am leaving Constantinople.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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...” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That's the Star of the Crescent,” said Peter. “Where did you buy it?” + </p> + <p> + “Buy it!” exclaimed Stetson. “You don't buy them. The Sultan bestows + them.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet the Sultan didn't bestow that one,” said Peter. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet,” returned Stetson, “I've got something in my pocket that says + he did.” + </p> + <p> + He unfolded an imposing document covered with slanting lines of curving + Arabic letters in gold. Peter was impressed but still skeptical. + </p> + <p> + “What does that say when it says it in English?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Peter interrupted him indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Never try to fool the fakirs, my son,” he protested. “I'm a fakir myself. + What services did you ever....” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Peter regarded his young friend with incredulous admiration. + </p> + <p> + “But did they believe you,” he demanded, “when you told them you were an + author and educator?” + </p> + <p> + Stetson closed one eye and grinned. “They believed whatever I paid them to + believe.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred dollars in bribes,” said Stetson briskly, “and two months of + diplomacy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “How much have you got?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “In this country you don't need any introduction to the man you want to + bribe,” exclaimed Stetson; “you just bribe him!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 street-cleaning 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “There are few sentries at Stillwater,” said Peter; “but I want the best + and I want it quick. Get me the fourth class.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning he was surprised by an early visit from Stimson of the + embassy. The secretary was considerably annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Instead, Peter explained fully and so sympathetically that the diplomat + demanded that he, too, should be enrolled as one of the Gilman Defense + Committee. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not by me,” Peter assured him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Going up!” exclaimed Peter. “The third class. That will cost me my entire + letter-of-credit.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + At such ignorance Stimson could not repress a smile. + </p> + <p> + “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....” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with Doctor Gilman's being of world-wide fame?” said + Peter. “He will be some day, when Stetson starts boosting.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask what that is?” said Peter. + </p> + <p> + The prince frowned at his diamond sunburst as though it annoyed him, and + then smiled delightedly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And Joe told?” said Peter. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Peter's eyes were still fastened hungrily upon the diamond sunburst. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he demanded, “can't some one get him one like that?” + </p> + <p> + As though about to take offense the prince raised his eyebrows, and then + thought better of it and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “There are only two men in all Turkey,” he said, “who could do that.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You know you could if you liked!” whispered Peter stoutly. + </p> + <p> + Apparently Abdul did not hear him. “I will take one card,” he said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I will deal you one hand, double or quits,” said the prince. + </p> + <p> + Over the end of his cigar Peter squinted at the great heap of + mother-of-pearl counters and gold-pieces and bank-notes. + </p> + <p> + “You will pay me double what is on the table,” he said, “or you quit owing + me nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The prince nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead,” said Peter. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Peter, leaning toward him, spoke out of the corner of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The prince smiled cynically. + </p> + <p> + “For yourself?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “For Doctor Gilman,” said Peter. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Peter also could be cynical. + </p> + <p> + “Not even the Sultan,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Abdul won the deal and gave himself a very good hand. But the hand he + dealt Peter was the better one. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Peter flashed the great news to Stetson. The cable caught him at + Quarantine. It read: “Captured Crescent, Grand Cross. Get busy.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It's exactly,” added Stetson, “as though the Sultan himself were coming.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The mayor chewed nervously on his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “What'd I better do?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Stetson here,” Hines pointed out, “has lived in Turkey, and he knows + what they expect. Maybe he will help us.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you?” begged the mayor. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Stetson. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Gilman rejected it without consideration. He read the letter from + the trustees to his wife and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I should indeed!” Peter assured him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said Doctor Gilman gently, “that this summer you did not + work very hard for your degree!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Laughed and picked up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth, Professor,” he said, “you're right I got working + for something worth while—and I forgot about the degree.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3. THE INVASION OF ENGLAND + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In telling the story, my conscience is not in the least disturbed, for I + have yet to find any one who will believe it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + The assistant laughed good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And, quite right, too!” said Ford. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Worse!” assented Birrell loyally. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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'?” + </p> + <p> + Bellew and Herbert nodded; Birrell made no sign. + </p> + <p> + “Don't mind him,” exclaimed Herbert impatiently. “HE never reads anything! + Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “What would happen?” roared Major Bellew loyally. “The Boy Scouts would + fall out of bed and kick them into the sea!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “What's your plan?” interrupted Birrell. + </p> + <p> + “We would start just before dawn—” began Ford. + </p> + <p> + “We?” demanded Herbert. “Are you in this?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The two pink-cheeked youths glanced at each other inquiringly and then + nodded. + </p> + <p> + “We accept your services, sir,” said Birrell gravely. “What's your plan?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Of all the preposterous, outrageous—Are you mad?” he demanded. “Do + you suppose for one minute I will allow—” + </p> + <p> + His nephew shrugged his shoulders and, rising, pushed back his chair. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil!” he protested; “which of you boys has been playing hob + with my map?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In his own language Carl Schultz reproved himself. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I have been in constant communication,” said the man with the beard. + “They will be here just before the dawn. Return to Cromer and 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A nation of wasters,” muttered the German, “sleeping at their posts. They + are fiddling while England falls!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Du bist gefangen!” he announced. “Das Dorf ist besetzt. Wo sind unsere + Leute?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “You'll 'ave to excuse me, sir,” said Mr. Shutliffe, “but I am a trifle + 'ard of 'earing.” + </p> + <p> + The soldier addressed him in English. + </p> + <p> + “What is the name of this village?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shuttiffe, having lived in the village upward of eighty years, + recalled its name with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen any of our people?” + </p> + <p> + With another painful effort of memory Mr. Shutliffe shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, thank'ee, sir, kindly,” stammered Mr. Shutliffe. “May I lock in + the pigs first, sir?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The three soldiers halted behind the church wall. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The village inn is still open,” said Ford. “We'll close It.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + The tallest of the three intruders, in deep guttural accents, interrupted + her sharply. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You ass!” muttered the tall German. “Get out!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That will hold Stiffkey for a while!” said Ford. “Now, back to the car.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The constable!” whispered Herbert. “He must see us, but he mustn't speak + to us.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” the policeman assured him promptly; “I saw them. It's + manoeuvres, sir. Territorials.” + </p> + <p> + “They didn't look like Territorials,” objected the chauffeur. “They looked + like Germans.” + </p> + <p> + Protected by the deepening dusk, the constable made no effort to conceal a + grin. + </p> + <p> + “Just Territorials, sir,” he protested soothingly; “skylarking maybe, but + meaning no harm. Still, I'll have a look round, and warn 'em.” + </p> + <p> + A voice from beneath the canvas broke in angrily: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The constable considered deeply. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Ye gods!” cried the man in the rear of the car. “Go on!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + As the car sped out of Stiffkey, Herbert exclaimed with disgust: + </p> + <p> + “What's the use!” he protested. “You couldn't wake these people with + dynamite! I vote we chuck it and go home.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen any—any soldiers?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “How many—and where?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” snapped the elderly gentleman. “I happen to be in command of + this district. What are your names?” + </p> + <p> + Ford pushed the car forward, parting the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + As they ran through the night Ford spoke over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Looks ahead there,” said Birrell, “as though it hadn't gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's this tale about Germans?” he demanded jocularly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The proprietor refused to be “had.” + </p> + <p> + “Let 'em all come!” he mocked. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Outside the village Ford brought the car to a halt and swung in his seat. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The British mind moves slowly,” said Birrell, the Irishman. “Now, if this + had happened in my native land—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Things are looking up!” said Ford. “Where is our next stop? As I said + before, what we want is a live one.” + </p> + <p> + Herbert pressed his electric torch against his road map. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't!” he growled. “Get out!” + </p> + <p> + With eyes still bulging, the boy lifted himself into a sitting posture. + </p> + <p> + “My pay—my month's pay?” he stammered. “Can I take It?” + </p> + <p> + The expression on the face of the conqueror relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “Take it and get out,” Ford commanded. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” cried Ford. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + When they had taken their places in the car, Herbert touched Ford on the + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Your last remark,” he said, “was that what we wanted was a live one.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Herbert consulted his map. + </p> + <p> + “There is a Coast Guard,” he said, “stationed just the other side of + Morston. And,” he added fervently, “let us hope he's lonely.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Herbert came to an abrupt halt. + </p> + <p> + “Since seeing those fires,” he explained, “I feel a strange reluctance + about showing myself in this uniform to a Coast Guard.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm on in that last scene,” growled Herbert. + </p> + <p> + “Only,” repeated Ford with emphasis, “We must be sure he has seen us.” + </p> + <p> + Not twenty feet from them came a bursting roar, a flash, many roars, many + flashes, many bullets. + </p> + <p> + “He's seen us!” yelled Birrell. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What happened to Herbert?” panted Ford. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to commandeer this,” he said. “Run back to Cromer. Don't crush + my men, but go like the devil!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Your regiment seems to have turned out to a man!” exclaimed Ford + admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And I thought they were only where you see the camp-fires,” exclaimed + Ford. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We were betrayed, general,” whispered the head-waiter. + </p> + <p> + “We were betrayed, baron,” replied the bearded one. + </p> + <p> + “But you were in time to warn the flotilla.” + </p> + <p> + With a sigh, the older man nodded. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + On the same morning, In an editorial in The Times of London, appeared this + paragraph: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + A week later three young men sat at dinner on the terrace of the Savoy. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we, or shall we not,” asked Herbert, “tell my uncle that we three, + and we three alone, were the invaders?” + </p> + <p> + “That's hardly correct,” said Ford, “as we now know there were two hundred + thousand invaders. We were the only three who got ashore.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 4. BLOOD WILL TELL + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not grudging glory to others,” returned David; “I am only saying I + am proud that I am a descendant of a revolutionist.” + </p> + <p> + Wyckoff dived into his inner pocket and produced a leather photograph + frame that folded like a concertina. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “When I'm married,” he stammered, and at the words he blushed, “I hope to + be an ancestor.” + </p> + <p> + “If you're thinking of getting married,” said Wyckoff, “you'd better hope + for a raise in salary.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 he 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I'm not worthy of you,” David sighed. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “But HOW?” complained David. “What chance has a twenty-five dollar a week + clerk—” + </p> + <p> + It was a year before the Spanish-American War, while the patriots of Cuba + were fighting the mother country for their independence. + </p> + <p> + “If I were a Son of the Revolution,” said Emily, “I'd go to Cuba and help + free it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Lafayette talk like that?” demanded Emily. “Did he ask what have the + American rebels ever done for me?” + </p> + <p> + “If I were in Lafayette's class,” sighed David, “I wouldn't be selling + automatic punches.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Emily's eyes were beautiful with delight. But the sight gave David no + pleasure. In genuine distress, he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Emily,” he said, “you're going to be awfully disappointed in me.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I've often wished you would,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Would what? Run your career for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, keep quiet. Only it didn't seem polite to tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I'd like you better,” said Emily, “if you weren't so darned + polite.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I am alone,” he told himself, “on a railroad embankment, entirely + surrounded by alligators.” + </p> + <p> + And then he found he was not alone. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil are you?” demanded the man from the tug. “How'd you get + here?” + </p> + <p> + “I walked,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Walked?” the man snorted incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The little man laughed mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You walk!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do just as I please about that,” said David. + </p> + <p> + As though to bring assistance, the little man started hastily toward the + tug. + </p> + <p> + “I'll find some one who'll make you walk!” he called. “You WAIT, that's + all, you WAIT!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Partly with cold, partly with nervousness, David shivered. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is the place haunted!” exclaimed David. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's your business?” demanded the man with the flamboyant hair. + </p> + <p> + “I came here,” began David, “to wait for a train—” + </p> + <p> + The tall man bellowed with indignant rage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he shouted; “this is the sort of place any one would pick out to + wait for a train!” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + The barkeeper person interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind who you are,” he said. “We know that. Find out who HE is.” + </p> + <p> + David turned appealingly to the barkeeper. + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose I'd come here on purpose?” he protested. “I'm a travelling + man—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + As though he thought he had been neglected, the little man in riding-boots + pushed forward importantly. + </p> + <p> + “Tie him to a tree!” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think I want to hurt you?” demanded David. “Who do you + think I am?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + David moved his aching head gingerly, and was conscious of a bump as large + as a tennis ball behind his right ear. + </p> + <p> + “What happened to me?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” demanded David indignantly. “Why was I kidnapped? What had I + done? Who were those men who—” + </p> + <p> + From the pilot-house there was a sharp jangle of bells to the engine-room, + and the speed of the tug slackened. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + From excitement, from cold, from alarm, David's nerves were getting beyond + his control. + </p> + <p> + “But how,” he demanded, “how do I get ashore?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't!” + </p> + <p> + “When he drops the pilot, don't I—” + </p> + <p> + “How can he drop the pilot?” yelled the youth. “The pilot's got to stick + by the boat. So have you.” + </p> + <p> + David clutched the young man and swung him so that they stood face to + face. + </p> + <p> + “Stick by what boat?” yelled David. “Who are these men? Who are you? What + boat is this?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “THE THREE FRIENDS!” shrieked David. “She's a filibuster! She's a pirate! + Where're we going? + </p> + <p> + “To Cuba!” + </p> + <p> + David emitted a howl of anguish, rage, and protest. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” he shrieked. + </p> + <p> + The young man regarded him coldly. + </p> + <p> + “To pick bananas,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” whispered David; “perhaps she'll sink us!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + David considered it a doubtful attention. + </p> + <p> + But he said, “You're very kind. How did a fellow like you come to mix up + with these pirates?” + </p> + <p> + The youth laughed good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The barkeeper with the derby hat?” said David. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're a reporter?” said David. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “And you LIKE this?” groaned David. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + David shook his head feebly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't move!” he protested. “I wouldn't move if it would free Cuba.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong with it?” said Carr. + </p> + <p> + Before David could summon sufficient energy to answer, the attention of + all on board was diverted, and by a single word. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Land!” he hailed. + </p> + <p> + The sea-sick Cubans raised themselves and swung their hats; their voices + rose in a fierce chorus. + </p> + <p> + “Cuba libre!” they yelled. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You MUST look!” Carr entreated David, “it's just as it is in the + pictures! + </p> + <p> + “Then I don't have to look,” groaned David. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Above the heads of the filibusters a shell screamed and within a hundred + feet splashed into a wave. + </p> + <p> + From his mat in the lee scupper David groaned miserably. He was far + removed from any of the greater emotions. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use!” he protested. “They can't do! It's not connected!” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT'S not connected?” yelled Carr. He fell upon David. He half-lifted, + half-dragged him to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “If you know what's wrong with that gun, you fix it! Fix it,” he shouted, + “or I'll—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Ignorant themselves, those about him saw that he understood, saw that his + work was good. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He shouted with delight. + </p> + <p> + “I've got it working,” he yelled. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Cuba libre!” it yelled. “To hell with Spain!” and he found that the voice + was his own. + </p> + <p> + The story lost nothing in the way Carr wrote it. + </p> + <p> + “And the best of it is,” he exclaimed joyfully, “it's true!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Doyle nodded his head approvingly. “You certainty did, Dave,” + protested the great man, “I seen you when you done it!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 5. THE SAILORMAN + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Does he wear a hat when he is not with Helen?” asked the new arrival. + “That might help some.” + </p> + <p> + “We will never know,” exclaimed the young matron; “he never leaves her.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The trouble is,” she complained, “there are so many think the same + thing!” + </p> + <p> + “What do they think?” demanded Latimer. + </p> + <p> + “That they want to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + Checked but not discouraged, Latimer attacked in force. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “That's ANOTHER thing they think,” sighed Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry to be so unoriginal,” snapped Latimer. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “ALL!” exclaimed Latimer. “It is incredible that I have undervalued you, + but may I ask how many there are?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” sighed Helen miserably. “There seems to be something about + me that—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + One day she exclaimed: “Oh!” and Latimer patiently lowered the “Oxford + Book of Verse,” and asked: “What is it, NOW?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Helen shook her head firmly and reprovingly. “Men get over THAT kind of + drowning,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He has a friendly smile,” said Helen; “I think he likes us.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + From her throne among the pine needles Helen looked up at the sailorman + and frowned. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a happy simile,” she objected. “For one thing, a sailorman has + a sweetheart in every port.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see,” said Latimer. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But she did not know that, and Latimer did not know that. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Older men would say to her: “I hear you know Latimer? What sort of a man + is he?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Helen turned in alarm and raised her eyes—and beheld the sailorman. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “So long as I love this beautiful lady,” had been his foolish words, “you + will guard this place. It is a life sentence!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 6. THE MIND READER + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “But on the Republic,” Endicott pointed out, “I get a salary. And in + London I should have to sweep a crossing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the literary editor, “you could write a story about a man who + swept a crossing.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + On the thirty-first of May he went to sleep utterly and completely + miserable. On the first of June he woke hopeless and unrefreshed. + </p> + <p> + And then the miracle came. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Philip stared hard at Prichard; but the lips of the valet had not moved. + In surprise and bewilderment, Philip demanded: + </p> + <p> + “How do you know it fits? Have you tried it on?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't take such a liberty,” protested Prichard. “Not with any of our + gentlemen's clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know I was talking about clothes,” demanded Philip. “You + didn't say anything about clothes, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I did not; but you asked me, sir, and I—” + </p> + <p> + “Were you thinking of clothes?” + </p> + <p> + “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...” + </p> + <p> + “It's mental telepathy,” said Philip. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Prichard. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't wait,” said Philip. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he said, “but I believe you are waiting for your maid + Hudson?” + </p> + <p> + As though fearing an impertinence, the girl regarded him in silence. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” assented the girl. + </p> + <p> + “And you telephoned Hudson,” he continued, “to bring you your muff.” + </p> + <p> + The girl exclaimed with vexation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she protested; “I knew they'd get it wrong! Not muff, ruff! I want + my ruff.” + </p> + <p> + Philip felt a cold shiver creep down his spine. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of Heaven!” he exclaimed in horror; “it's true!” + </p> + <p> + “What's true?” demanded the young woman in some alarm. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + With a key the Dresden shepherdess opened the door to the yellow house and + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + As Philip did not know the name of the Dresden-china doll, it was + fortunate that on opening the door, the butler promptly announced: + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship is not receiving.” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship will, I think, receive me,” said Philip pleasantly, “when + you tell her I come as the special ambassador of his lordship.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For a New York reporter, and a Harvard graduate of charm and good manners, + it was too easy. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The china shepherdess blushed with happiness, but instantly she shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “They tell me I must not believe him,” she announced. “They tell me—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Called him!” exclaimed the lady. “He is in Paris-at the races—with + her!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, my children,” he murmured; “bless you!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Go back, sir!” warned Philip. “He means to kill you!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I must thank you,” said the boy eagerly; “and I wish you to tell me how + you came to suspect the man's purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Unable to speak the truth, Philip, the would-be writer of fiction, began + to improvise fluently. + </p> + <p> + “To learn their purpose, sir,” he said, “is my business. I am of the + International Police, and in the secret service of your Majesty.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Philip smiled mysteriously and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He slipped past the King and through the crowd of hotel officials into the + hall and on into the corridor. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Philip sighed enviously. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can be called a bargain, Baron,” he said, “that costs three + hundred thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The next instant an expression of real surprise overspread his features. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” the Baron said, “but I have had it moved to my art gallery + to be packed.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Pittsburgh millionaire made a pretense, of annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You can go to the devil for all I care,” said Philip, “or even to + Pittsburgh!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” asked Philip. + </p> + <p> + The millionaire smiled tolerantly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Philip accepted the cocktail the waiter presented. It was quite as bad as + he had expected. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you!” shouted Faust. “Are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + The face of the German turned crimson with rage. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this insolent one?” he sputtered. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I will not,” roared the German. “It would be to insult myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be an easy way to earn a hundred pounds, too,” said Philip. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you insult the Baron?” demanded Faust. “What makes you think—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think, I know!” said Philip. “For the price of a taxi-cab fare to + Tate Street, you win a hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “We will all three go at once,” cried the German. “My car is outside. Wait + here. I will have it brought to the door?” + </p> + <p> + Faust protested indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Do not disturb yourself, Baron,” he said; “just because a fresh reporter—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That's the last you'll see of him,” said Philip. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You should come with me,” said Faust. “It is only fair to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take your word for what you find in the studio,” said Philip. “I + cannot go. This is my busy day.” + </p> + <p> + Without further words, the millionaire collected his hat and stick, and, + in his turn, entered a taxi-cab and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + As though loath to part, the two gentlemen still lingered. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “It was most wise,” interrupted the other. “Most just.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Philip cast a scared glance at the old gentleman, and raced down the + corridor to the telephone. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Maddox greeted him genially, but Philip cut him short. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He heard Maddox laugh indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing in that yarn of a combine,” he called. “It has fallen + through. Besides, shares are at fifteen pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Philip, having in his possession a second-class ticket and a five-pound + note, was indifferent to that, and said so. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think you know it?” demanded the broker. + </p> + <p> + “I've seen the house-flags!” cried Philip. “I have—do as I tell + you,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + There was a distracting delay. + </p> + <p> + “No matter who's back of you,” objected Maddox, “it's a big order on a + gamble.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have secured for you a thousand shares of each,” he read, “at fifteen. + Maddox.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If only,” Philip exclaimed, “she were looking for me! She certainly is + looking for some man. I wonder who it can be?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Philip proceeded to make it easier. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Helen's eyes were smiling happily. She looked away from him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you use to do that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Every night I do that,” said Philip. “Ask the policemen! They arrested me + three times.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said Helen gently. + </p> + <p> + But Philip was not yet free to speak, so he said: + </p> + <p> + “They thought I was a burglar.” + </p> + <p> + Helen frowned. He was making it very hard for her. + </p> + <p> + “You know what I mean,” she said. “Why did you keep guard outside my + window?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Helen laughed aloud with happiness. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Run!” he commanded. “Get out of here, Tell him he is to SELL!” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends entirely upon you,” replied Philip soberly. “Indeed, all my + future life depends upon what you are going to say next.” + </p> + <p> + Helen breathed deeply and happily. + </p> + <p> + “And—what am I going to say?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I know that?” demanded Philip. “Am I a mind reader?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Philip was just able to pay for the penny buns. Helen paid for the + taxi-cab. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 7. THE NAKED MAN + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If I was to ride to hounds,” returned her husband, “the only thing I'd + break would be my neck.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + Winnie laughed shortly. “They certainly have left us alone!” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of Heaven!” gasped Keep, “what's that?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Winnie Keep. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It's time to dress for dinner, Win,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And what are you going to do?” demanded Winnie. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't they stop it!” she whispered. “Why don't they give him a + chance!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then, taking breath and with a violent effort to stop the chattering of + his teeth, the stranger launched into his story. + </p> + <p> + “I took a bath in your pond,” he blurted forth, “and—and they stole + my clothes! That's why I'm like this!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it rather a cold night to take a bath?” he said. + </p> + <p> + As though in hearty agreement, the naked man burst into a violent fit of + shivering. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't a bath,” he gasped. “It was a bet!” + </p> + <p> + “A what!” exclaimed Fred. His admiration was increasing. “A bet? Then you + are not alone?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Keep smiled encouragingly. “The car!” he assented. “So you've been riding + around in the moonlight?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + With a start Keep raised his eyes, and distressed by his look, the young + man continued less confidently. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + In alarm the naked one with a gesture commanded silence. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Fred pointed at golf-capes, sweaters, greatcoats hanging from hooks, and + on the floor at boots and overshoes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” snorted the stranger. “You BET I'll wait!” + </p> + <p> + As Fred closed the door upon him, the naked one was rubbing himself + violently with Mrs. Keep's yellow golf-jacket. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger grunted. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry!” commanded Keep. “The car'll be here in a minute. Where shall I + tell him to take you?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “They're yours,” said Fred. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” said Fred. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't find me a button-hook, could you?” whispered the stranger. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” said Keep, “to ask no questions.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + With what he considered great presence of mind, Fred swung upon the + visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Did you fix it?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” commanded Fred. “The car is waiting.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “My name's Van Warden. I'm Harry Van Warden.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then she beamed upon the stranger. “Won't Mr. Van Warden stay to dinner?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Put those on! Cover your face! Don't speak! The man knows what to do.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm done!” he sobbed. “I can't go no farther! I give myself up!” + </p> + <p> + Above the awful silence that held the four young people, the prison siren + shrieked in one long, mocking howl of triumph. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + As though suddenly remembering the presence of the owner of the car, he + swung upon Fred. “Am I right?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” roared Fred. He flung his arm at the chauffeur as though + throwing him into space. + </p> + <p> + “Get-to-hell-out-of-here!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Fred had supposed that at the last moment the younger convict proposed to + leap to the running-board, but instead the stranger remained motionless. + </p> + <p> + Fred shouted impotently after the flying car. In dismay he seized the + stranger by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “But you?” he demanded. “How are you going to get away?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger turned appealingly to where upon the upper step stood Winnie + Keep. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to get away,” he said. “I was hoping, maybe, you'd let me + stay to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Will you kindly tell me,” Fred demanded, “who the devil you are?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger exclaimed peevishly. “I've BEEN telling you all evening,” he + protested. “I'm Harry Van Warden!” + </p> + <p> + Gridley, the ancient butler, appeared in the open door. + </p> + <p> + “Dinner is served, madam,” he said. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Fred Keep gazed stupidly from his butler to the stranger and then at his + wife. She was again radiantly beautiful and smilingly happy. + </p> + <p> + Gridley coughed tentatively. “Shall I open a bottle, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Hopelessly Fred tossed his arms heavenward. + </p> + <p> + “Open a case!” he roared. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Fred read it aloud. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 8. THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!'” + </p> + <p> + That night as the scouts walked home, behind each wall and hayrick they + saw spiked helmets. + </p> + <p> + Young Van Vorst was extremely annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU are not!” retorted his friend, “you own half the county now, and + you're trying to buy the other half.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + So, the next time Jimmie proceeded with caution. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Jimmie smiled in sympathy. “It's early to be hungry,” said Jimmie; “when + did you have your breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “The first road to your right,” said Jimmie. + </p> + <p> + “Is it far?” asked the stranger anxiously. That he was very hungry was + evident. + </p> + <p> + “It's a half-hour's walk,” said Jimmie + </p> + <p> + “If I live that long,” corrected the young man; and stepped out briskly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You wait!” he shouted. “I'll get you yet! Next time, I'll bring a gun.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In his excitement the scout was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “If he moves,” he sighed happily, “I've got him!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Jimmie knelt, and resting the gun on the top of the wall, covered him. + </p> + <p> + “Throw up your hands!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” commanded Jimmie. + </p> + <p> + With alacrity the stranger rose. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not trying to bribe you,” he protested. “If you don't want anything, + why are you holding me up?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not,” returned Jimmie, “I'm arresting you!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger laughed with relief. Again his eyes smiled. “Oh,” he cried, + “I see! Have I been trespassing?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger took a hasty step BACKWARD. “Don't worry about that,” he + exclaimed. “I'll not rush you. Why am I arrested?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmie exclaimed in triumph. “Hah!” he cried, “made in Germany!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he said, “I'll have to explain to you about that map.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to me, you won't,” declared his captor. “You're going to drive + straight to Judge Van Vorst's, and explain to HIM!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger tossed his arms even higher. “Thank God!” he exclaimed + gratefully. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Jimmie fell from the tonneau. In concealing his sense of triumph, he was + not entirety successful. + </p> + <p> + “I got him!” he cried. “I didn't make no mistake about THIS one!” + </p> + <p> + “What one?” demanded Van Vorst. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “THAT one!” cried Jimmie. “He's a German spy!” + </p> + <p> + The patience of Judge Van Vorst fell from him. In his exclamation was + indignation, anger, reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmie!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But he greeted the prisoner politely. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner quickly interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Please!” he begged, “Don't blame the boy. He behaved extremely well. + Might I speak with you—ALONE?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I saw your mare win that at Belmont Park,” he said. “She must have been a + great loss to you?” + </p> + <p> + “She was,” said Van Vorst. “The week before she broke her back, I refused + three thousand for her. Will you have a cigarette?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger waved aside the cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger smiled in approval, but shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Van Vorst laughed derisively. + </p> + <p> + “My word!” he exclaimed. “You're as bad as Jimmie!” + </p> + <p> + Captain McCoy regarded him with disfavor. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you serious?” demanded Van Vorst. “And you an army officer?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Van Vorst moved to the door. + </p> + <p> + “He will never learn the truth from me,” he said. “For I will tell him you + are to be shot at sunrise.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” protested Captain McCoy, “We will drink to Jimmie!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Other visitors were arriving. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” demanded Van Vorst, stiffly, “Captain McCoy?” + </p> + <p> + The man exploded with an oath. The driver with a shove of his elbow, + silenced him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Captain McCoy,” assented the driver eagerly. “Which way did he go?” + </p> + <p> + “To New York,” said Van Vorst. + </p> + <p> + The driver shrieked at his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Then, he's doubled back,” he cried. “He's gone to New Haven.” He stooped + and threw in the clutch. The car lurched forward. + </p> + <p> + A cold terror swept young Van Vorst. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with him?” he called “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Leaping and throbbing at sixty miles an hour, the car vanished in a + curtain of white, whirling dust. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 9. THE CARD-SHARP + </h2> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes fell to the pack in his hands and apparently searched it for some + particular card. + </p> + <p> + “What was I doing?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Dealing baccarat at the Casino des Fleurs.” + </p> + <p> + With obvious relief he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + As I passed he hailed me gayly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't scold, now,” he laughed; “you know I can't keep away from it.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + His audacity so astonished me that in silence I could only stare at him + and walk on. + </p> + <p> + When on deck he met me he was not even apologetic. Instead, as though we + were partners in crime, he chuckled delightedly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And I take it you are not,” I said stiffly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + As though his thoughts drove him to seek protection, he came closer. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't know HIM,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + Mindful of the use he had made of my name, I objected strenuously: + </p> + <p> + “Well, you certainly don't know me.” + </p> + <p> + My resentment obviously puzzled him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “As a doctor,” I asked, “or watching you play cards?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + His confidences were becoming a nuisance. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + As though the suggestion greatly entertained him, he laughed. + </p> + <p> + He made a mock obeisance. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Talbot, as though fearing he had gone too far, looked at me + sharply; he bit his lower lip and frowned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We want to give him his revenge,” one of them volunteered. + </p> + <p> + “He's losing, then?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + The man chuckled complacently. + </p> + <p> + “The only loser,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't worry,” I advised. “He'll come for his revenge.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm scared,” he stammered, “scared!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been drinking?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + In surprise he opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I can't drink,” he answered simply. “It's nerves and worry. I'm tired.” + </p> + <p> + He relaxed against the cushions; his arms fell heavily at his sides; the + fingers lay open. + </p> + <p> + “God,” he whispered, “how tired I am!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “This trip?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he interrupted; “but I got to chance that. I GOT to make enough + to go on with—until I see my family.” + </p> + <p> + “If they won't see you?” I asked. “What then?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders and sighed lightly, almost with relief, as + though for him the prospect held no terror. + </p> + <p> + “Then it's 'Good-night, nurse,'” he said. “And I won't be a bother to + anybody any more.” + </p> + <p> + I told him his nerves were talking, and talking rot, and I gave him the + sleeping-draft and sent him to bed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + It was the others who made the killing. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “When the ship's surgeon first met you,” he cried, “you called yourself + Lord Ridley.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + But he was not to escape with the last word. + </p> + <p> + His prosecutor pointed his finger at him. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + Talbot turned savagely and then shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go to the devil!” he called, and walked out into the night. + </p> + <p> + The purser was standing at my side and, catching my eye, shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Bad business,” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + I asked what the excited Smedburg had meant by telling Talbot not to call + himself Meyer. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he no other way of spending his money?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't depend on me,” he said. “Depends on Smedburg. He's a busy little + body!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + My scepticism must have been obvious, for he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Talbot did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” I insisted. + </p> + <p> + The boy laughed impudently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But you,” I retorted impatiently, “are not a Jew!” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “Hair, dark and curly; eyes, poppy; lips, full; nose, Roman or Hebraic, + according to taste. Do you see?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “But it didn't work,” he concluded. “I picked the wrong Jew.” + </p> + <p> + His face grew serious. “Do you suppose that Smedburg person has wirelessed + that banker?” + </p> + <p> + I told him I was afraid he had already sent the message. + </p> + <p> + “And what will Meyer do?” he asked. “Will he drop it or make a fuss? What + sort is he?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Then maybe,” cried Talbot hopefully, “he won't make a row, and my family + won't hear of it!” + </p> + <p> + He drew a quick breath of relief. As though a burden had been lifted, his + shoulders straightened. + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly, harshly, in open panic, he exclaimed aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he whispered. “There, at the end of the wharf—the little Jew + in furs!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The ship's surgeon, sir,” he stammered, “asks you please to hurry to the + sick-bay. A passenger has shot himself!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I must have exclaimed aloud, for the doctor turned his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It was HE sent for you,” he said, “but he doesn't need you. Fortunately, + he's a damned bad shot!” + </p> + <p> + The boy's eyes opened wearily; before we could prevent it he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I was so tired,” he whispered. “Always moving me on. I was so tired!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For an instant the little great man stood with wide, owl-like eyes, + staring at the face on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + Then he sank softly to his knees. In both his hands he caught the hand of + the card-sharp. + </p> + <p> + “Heine!” he begged. “Don't you know me? It is your brother Adolph; your + little brother Adolph!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Red Cross Girl, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED CROSS GIRL *** + +***** This file should be named 1733-h.htm or 1733-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/3/1733/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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