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diff --git a/1822-h/1822-h.htm b/1822-h/1822-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..33dc837 --- /dev/null +++ b/1822-h/1822-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1591 @@ +<?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> + <title> + The Amateur, 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 Amateur, 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 Amateur + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1822] +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE AMATEUR + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + It was February off the Banks, and so thick was the weather that, on the + upper decks, one could have driven a sleigh. Inside the smoking-room + Austin Ford, as securely sheltered from the blizzard as though he had been + sitting in front of a wood fire at his club, ordered hot gin for himself + and the ship’s doctor. The ship’s doctor had gone below on another “hurry + call” from the widow. At the first luncheon on board the widow had sat on + the right of Doctor Sparrow, with Austin Ford facing her. But since then, + except to the doctor, she had been invisible. So, at frequent intervals, + the ill health of the widow had deprived Ford of the society of the + doctor. That it deprived him, also, of the society of the widow did not + concern him. HER life had not been spent upon ocean liners; she could not + remember when state-rooms were named after the States of the Union. She + could not tell him of shipwrecks and salvage, of smugglers and of the + modern pirates who found their victims in the smoking-room. + </p> + <p> + Ford was on his way to England to act as the London correspondent of the + New York Republic. For three years on that most sensational of the New + York dailies he had been the star man, the chief muckraker, the chief + sleuth. His interest was in crime. Not in crimes committed in passion or + inspired by drink, but in such offences against law and society as are + perpetrated with nice intelligence. The murderer, the burglar, the + strong-arm men who, in side streets, waylay respectable citizens did not + appeal to him. The man he studied, pursued, and exposed was the cashier + who evolved a new method of covering up his peculations, the dishonest + president of an insurance company, the confidence man who used no + concealed weapon other than his wit. Toward the criminals he pursued young + Ford felt no personal animosity. He harassed them as he would have shot a + hawk killing chickens. Not because he disliked the hawk, but because the + battle was unequal, and because he felt sorry for the chickens. + </p> + <p> + Had you called Austin Ford an amateur detective he would have been greatly + annoyed. He argued that his position was similar to that of the dramatic + critic. The dramatic critic warned the public against bad plays; Ford + warned it against bad men. Having done that, he left it to the public to + determine whether the bad man should thrive or perish. + </p> + <p> + When the managing editor told him of his appointment to London, Ford had + protested that his work lay in New York; that of London and the English, + except as a tourist and sight-seer, he knew nothing. + </p> + <p> + “That’s just why we are sending you,” explained the managing editor. “Our + readers are ignorant. To make them read about London you’ve got to tell + them about themselves in London. They like to know who’s been presented at + court, about the American girls who have married dukes; and which ones + opened a bazaar, and which one opened a hat shop, and which is getting a + divorce. Don’t send us anything concerning suffragettes and Dreadnaughts. + Just send us stuff about Americans. If you take your meals in the Carlton + grill-room and drink at the Cecil you can pick up more good stories than + we can print. You will find lots of your friends over there. Some of those + girls who married dukes,” he suggested, “know you, don’t they?” + </p> + <p> + “Not since they married dukes,” said Ford. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyway, all your other friends will be there,” continued the + managing editor encouragingly. “Now that they have shut up the tracks here + all the con men have gone to London. They say an American can’t take a + drink at the Salisbury without his fellow-countrymen having a fight as to + which one will sell him a gold brick.” + </p> + <p> + Ford’s eyes lightened in pleasurable anticipation. + </p> + <p> + “Look them over,” urged the managing editor, “and send us a special. Call + it ‘The American Invasion.’ Don’t you see a story in it?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be the first one I send you,” said Ford. The ship’s doctor + returned from his visit below decks and sank into the leather cushion + close to Ford’s elbow. For a few moments the older man sipped doubtfully + at his gin and water, and, as though perplexed, rubbed his hand over his + bald and shining head. “I told her to talk to you,” he said fretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Her? Who?” inquired Ford. “Oh, the widow?” + </p> + <p> + “You were right about that,” said Doctor Sparrow; “she is not a widow.” + </p> + <p> + The reporter smiled complacently. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why I thought not?” he demanded. “Because all the time she + was at luncheon she kept turning over her wedding-ring as though she was + not used to it. It was a new ring, too. I told you then she was not a + widow.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you always notice things like that?” asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Not on purpose,” said the amateur detective; “I can’t help it. I see ten + things where other people see only one; just as some men run ten times as + fast as other men. We have tried it out often at the office; put all sorts + of junk under a newspaper, lifted the newspaper for five seconds, and then + each man wrote down what he had seen. Out of twenty things I would + remember seventeen. The next best guess would be about nine. Once I saw a + man lift his coat collar to hide his face. It was in the Grand Central + Station. I stopped him, and told him he was wanted. Turned out he WAS + wanted. It was Goldberg, making his getaway to Canada.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a gift,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s a nuisance,” laughed the reporter. “I see so many things I don’t + want to see. I see that people are wearing clothes that are not made for + them. I see when women are lying to me. I can see when men are on the + verge of a nervous breakdown, and whether it is drink or debt or morphine—” + </p> + <p> + The doctor snorted triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “You did not see that the widow was on the verge of a breakdown!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned the reporter. “Is she? I’m sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “If you’re sorry,” urged the doctor eagerly, “you’ll help her. She is + going to London alone to find her husband. He has disappeared. She thinks + that he has been murdered, or that he is lying ill in some hospital. I + told her if any one could help her to find him you could. I had to say + something. She’s very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “To find her husband in London?” repeated Ford. “London is a large town.” + </p> + <p> + “She has photographs of him and she knows where he spends his time,” + pleaded the doctor. “He is a company promoter. It should be easy for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he doesn’t want her to find him,” said Ford. “Then it wouldn’t be + so easy for me.” + </p> + <p> + The old doctor sighed heavily. “I know,” he murmured. “I thought of that, + too. And she is so very pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “That was another thing I noticed,” said Ford. + </p> + <p> + The doctor gave no heed. + </p> + <p> + “She must stop worrying,” he exclaimed, “or she will have a mental + collapse. I have tried sedatives, but they don’t touch her. I want to give + her courage. She is frightened. She’s left a baby boy at home, and she’s + fearful that something will happen to him, and she’s frightened at being + at sea, frightened at being alone in London; it’s pitiful.” The old man + shook his head. “Pitiful! Will you talk to her now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” exclaimed Ford. “She doesn’t want to tell the story of her + life to strange young men.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was she suggested it,” cried the doctor. “She asked me if you were + Austin Ford, the great detective.” + </p> + <p> + Ford snorted scornfully. “She did not!” he protested. His tone was that of + a man who hopes to be contradicted. + </p> + <p> + “But she did,” insisted the doctor, “and I told her your specialty was + tracing persons. Her face lightened at once; it gave her hope. She will + listen to you. Speak very gently and kindly and confidently. Say you are + sure you can find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the lady now?” asked Ford. + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sparrow scrambled eagerly to his feet. “She cannot leave her + cabin,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + The widow, as Ford and Doctor Sparrow still thought of her, was lying on + the sofa that ran the length of the state-room, parallel with the lower + berth. She was fully dressed, except that instead of her bodice she wore a + kimono that left her throat and arms bare. She had been sleeping, and when + their entrance awoke her, her blue eyes regarded them uncomprehendingly. + Ford, hidden from her by the doctor, observed that not only was she very + pretty, but that she was absurdly young, and that the drowsy smile she + turned upon the old man before she noted the presence of Ford was as + innocent as that of a baby. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant, + her yellow curls had become loosened and were spread upon the pillow. When + she saw Ford she caught the kimono so closely around her throat that she + choked. Had the doctor not pushed her down she would have stood. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” she stammered, “he was an OLD man.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, misunderstanding, hastened to reassure her. “Mr. Ford is old + in experience,” he said soothingly. “He has had remarkable success. Why, + he found a criminal once just because the man wore a collar. And he found + Walsh, the burglar, and Phillips, the forger, and a gang of counterfeiters—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ashton turned upon him, her eyes wide with wonder. “But MY husband,” + she protested, “is not a criminal!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady!” the doctor cried. “I did not mean that, of course not. I + meant, if Mr. Ford can find men who don’t wish to be found, how easy for + him to find a man who—” He turned helplessly to Ford. “You tell + her,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + Ford sat down on a steamer trunk that protruded from beneath the berth, + and, turning to the widow, gave her the full benefit of his working smile. + It was confiding, helpless, appealing. It showed a trustfulness in the + person to whom it was addressed that caused that individual to believe + Ford needed protection from a wicked world. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Sparrow tells me,” began Ford timidly, “you have lost your + husband’s address; that you will let me try to find him. If I can help in + any way I should be glad.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl regarded him, apparently, with disappointment. It was as + though Doctor Sparrow had led her to expect a man full of years and + authority, a man upon whom she could lean; not a youth whose smile seemed + to beg one not to scold him. She gave Ford three photographs, bound + together with a string. + </p> + <p> + “When Doctor Sparrow told me you could help me I got out these,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Ford jotted down a mental note to the effect that she “got them out.” That + is, she did not keep them where she could always look at them. That she + was not used to look at them was evident by the fact that they were bound + together. + </p> + <p> + The first photograph showed three men standing in an open place and + leaning on a railing. One of them was smiling toward the photographer. He + was a good-looking young man of about thirty years of age, well fed, well + dressed, and apparently well satisfied with the world and himself. Ford’s + own smile had disappeared. His eyes were alert and interested. + </p> + <p> + “The one with the Panama hat pulled down over his eyes is your husband?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented the widow. Her tone showed slight surprise. + </p> + <p> + “This was taken about a year ago?” inquired Ford. “Must have been,” he + answered himself; “they haven’t raced at the Bay since then. This was + taken in front of the club stand—probably for the Telegraph?” He + lifted his eyes inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + Rising on her elbow the young wife bent forward toward the photograph. + “Does it say that there,” she asked doubtfully. “How did you guess that?” + </p> + <p> + In his role as chorus the ship’s doctor exclaimed with enthusiasm: “Didn’t + I tell you? He’s wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + Ford cut him off impatiently. “You never saw a rail as high as that except + around a racetrack,” he muttered. “And the badge in his buttonhole and the + angle of the stand all show—” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted himself to address the widow. “This is an owner’s badge. + What was the name of his stable?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she answered. She regarded the young man with sudden + uneasiness. “They only owned one horse, but I believe that gave them the + privilege of—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” exclaimed Ford. “Your husband is a bookmaker. But in London he is + a promoter of companies.” + </p> + <p> + “So my friend tells me,” said Mrs. Ashton. “She’s just got back from + London. Her husband told her that Harry, my husband, was always at the + American bar in the Cecil or at the Salisbury or the Savoy.” The girl + shook her head. “But a woman can’t go looking for a man there,” she + protested. “That’s why I thought you—” + </p> + <p> + “That’ll be all right,” Ford assured her hurriedly. “It’s a coincidence, + but it happens that my own work takes me to these hotels, and if your + husband is there I will find him.” He returned the photographs. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t you better keep one?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t forget him,” said the reporter. “Besides”—he turned his + eyes toward the doctor and, as though thinking aloud, said—“he may + have grown a beard.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the woman grew troubled. Her lips pressed together as though + in a sudden access of pain. + </p> + <p> + “And he may,” Ford continued, “have changed his name.” + </p> + <p> + As though fearful, if she spoke, the tears would fall, the girl nodded her + head stiffly. + </p> + <p> + Having learned what he wanted to know Ford applied to the wound a soothing + ointment of promises and encouragement. + </p> + <p> + “He’s as good as found,” he protested. “You will see him in a day, two + days after you land.” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s eyes opened happily. She clasped her hands together and raised + them. + </p> + <p> + “You will try?” she begged. “You will find him for me”—she corrected + herself eagerly—“for me and the baby?” + </p> + <p> + The loose sleeves of the kimono fell back to her shoulders showing the + white arms; the eyes raised to Ford were glistening with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will find him,” growled the reporter. + </p> + <p> + He freed himself from the appeal in the eyes of the young mother and left + the cabin. The doctor followed. He was bubbling over with enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “That was fine!” he cried. “You said just the right thing. There will be + no collapse now.” + </p> + <p> + His satisfaction was swept away in a burst of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “The blackguard!” he protested. “To desert a wife as young as that and as + pretty as that.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have been thinking,” said the reporter. “I guess,” he added gravely, + “what is going to happen is that before I find her husband I will have got + to know him pretty well.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently, young Mrs. Ashton believed everything would come to pass just + as Ford promised it would and as he chose to order it; for the next day, + with a color not born of fever in her cheeks and courage in her eyes, she + joined Ford and the doctor at the luncheon-table. Her attention was + concentrated on the younger man. In him she saw the one person who could + bring her husband to her. + </p> + <p> + “She acts,” growled the doctor later in the smoking-room, “as though she + was afraid you were going to back out of your promise and jump overboard.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think,” he protested violently, “it’s you she’s interested in. All + she sees in you is what you can do for her. Can you see that?” + </p> + <p> + “Any one as clever at seeing things as I am,” returned the reporter, + “cannot help but see that.” + </p> + <p> + Later, as Ford was walking on the upper deck, Mrs. Ashton came toward him, + beating her way against the wind. Without a trace of coquetry or + self-consciousness, and with a sigh of content, she laid her hand on his + arm. + </p> + <p> + “When I don’t see you,” she exclaimed as simply as a child, “I feel so + frightened. When I see you I know all will come right. Do you mind if I + walk with you?” she asked. “And do you mind if every now and then I ask + you to tell me again it will all come right?” + </p> + <p> + For the three days following Mrs. Ashton and Ford were constantly + together. Or, at least, Mrs. Ashton was constantly with Ford. She told him + that when she sat in her cabin the old fears returned to her, and in these + moments of panic she searched the ship for him. + </p> + <p> + The doctor protested that he was growing jealous. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not so greatly to be envied,” suggested Ford. “‘Harry’ at meals three + times a day and on deck all the rest of the day becomes monotonous. On a + closer acquaintance with Harry he seems to be a decent sort of a young + man; at least he seems to have been at one time very much in love with + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” sighed the doctor sentimentally, “she is certainly very much in + love with Harry.” + </p> + <p> + Ford shook his head non-committingly. “I don’t know her story,” he said. + “Don’t want to know it.” + </p> + <p> + The ship was in the channel, on her way to Cherbourg, and running as + smoothly as a clock. From the shore friendly lights told them they were + nearing their journey’s end; that the land was on every side. Seated on a + steamer-chair next to his in the semi-darkness of the deck, Mrs. Ashton + began to talk nervously and eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Now that we are so near,” she murmured, “I have got to tell you + something. If you did not know I would feel I had not been fair. You might + think that when you were doing so much for me I should have been more + honest.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a long breath. “It’s so hard,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” commanded Ford. “Is it going to help me to find him?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don’t tell me.” + </p> + <p> + His tone caused the girl to start. She leaned toward him and peered into + his face. His eyes, as he looked back to her, were kind and comprehending. + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” said the amateur detective, “that your husband has deserted + you. That if it were not for the baby you would not try to find him. Is + that it?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ashton breathed quickly and turned her face away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she whispered. “That is it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause. When she faced him again the fact that there was + no longer a secret between them seemed to give her courage. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” she said, “you can understand. Maybe you can tell me what it + means. I have thought and thought. I have gone over it and over it until + when I go back to it my head aches. I have done nothing else but think, + and I can’t make it seem better. I can’t find any excuse. I have had no + one to talk to, no one I could tell. I have thought maybe a man could + understand.” She raised her eyes appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “If you can only make it seem less cruel. Don’t you see,” she cried + miserably, “I want to believe; I want to forgive him. I want to think he + loves me. Oh! I want so to be able to love him; but how can I? I can’t! I + can’t!” + </p> + <p> + In the week in which they had been thrown together the girl unconsciously + had told Ford much about herself and her husband. What she now told him + was but an amplification of what he had guessed. + </p> + <p> + She had met Ashton a year and a half before, when she had just left school + at the convent and had returned to live with her family. Her home was at + Far Rockaway. Her father was a cashier in a bank at Long Island City. One + night, with a party of friends, she had been taken to a dance at one of + the beach hotels, and there met Ashton. At that time he was one of a firm + that was making book at the Aqueduct race-track. The girl had met very few + men and with them was shy and frightened, but with Ashton she found + herself at once at ease. That night he drove her and her friends home in + his touring-car and the next day they teased her about her conquest. It + made her very happy. After that she went to hops at the hotel, and as the + bookmaker did not dance, the two young people sat upon the piazza. Then + Ashton came to see her at her own house, but when her father learned that + the young man who had been calling upon her was a bookmaker he told him he + could not associate with his daughter. + </p> + <p> + But the girl was now deeply in love with Ashton, and apparently he with + her. He begged her to marry him. They knew that to this, partly from + prejudice and partly owing to his position in the bank, her father would + object. Accordingly they agreed that in August, when the racing moved to + Saratoga, they would run away and get married at that place. Their plan + was that Ashton would leave for Saratoga with the other racing men, and + that she would join him the next day. + </p> + <p> + They had arranged to be married by a magistrate, and Ashton had shown her + a letter from one at Saratoga who consented to perform the ceremony. He + had given her an engagement ring and two thousand dollars, which he asked + her to keep for him, lest tempted at the track he should lose it. + </p> + <p> + But she assured Ford it was not such material things as a letter, a ring, + or gift of money that had led her to trust Ashton. His fear of losing her, + his complete subjection to her wishes, his happiness in her presence, all + seemed to prove that to make her happy was his one wish, and that he could + do anything to make her unhappy appeared impossible. + </p> + <p> + They were married the morning she arrived at Saratoga; and the same day + departed for Niagara Falls and Quebec. The honeymoon lasted ten days. They + were ten days of complete happiness. No one, so the girl declared, could + have been more kind, more unselfishly considerate than her husband. They + returned to Saratoga and engaged a suite of rooms at one of the big + hotels. Ashton was not satisfied with the rooms shown him, and leaving her + upstairs returned to the office floor to ask for others. + </p> + <p> + Since that moment his wife had never seen him nor heard from him. + </p> + <p> + On the day of her marriage young Mrs. Ashton had written to her father, + asking him to give her his good wishes and pardon. He refused both. As she + had feared, he did not consider that for a bank clerk a gambler made a + desirable son-in-law; and the letters he wrote his daughter were so bitter + that in reply she informed him he had forced her to choose between her + family and her husband, and that she chose her husband. In consequence, + when she found herself deserted she felt she could not return to her + people. She remained in Saratoga. There she moved into cheap lodgings, and + in order that the two thousand dollars Ashton had left with her might be + saved for his child, she had learned to type-write, and after four months + had been able to support herself. Within the last month a girl friend, who + had known both Ashton and herself before they were married, had written + her that her husband was living in London. For the sake of her son she had + at once determined to make an effort to seek him out. + </p> + <p> + “The son, nonsense!” exclaimed the doctor, when Ford retold the story. + “She is not crossing the ocean because she is worried about the future of + her son. She seeks her own happiness. The woman is in love with her + husband.” + </p> + <p> + Ford shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know!” he objected. “She’s so extravagant in her praise of Harry + that it seems unreal. It sounds insincere. Then, again, when I swear I + will find him she shows a delight that you might describe as savage, + almost vindictive. As though, if I did find Harry, the first thing she + would do would be to stick a knife in him.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” volunteered the doctor sadly, “she has heard there is a woman in + the case. Maybe she is the one she’s thinking of sticking the knife into?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” declared the reporter, “if she doesn’t stop looking savage every + time I promise to find Harry I won’t find Harry. Why should I act the part + of Fate, anyway? How do I know that Harry hasn’t got a wife in London and + several in the States? How do we know he didn’t leave his country for his + country’s good? That’s what it looks like to me. How can we tell what + confronted him the day he went down to the hotel desk to change his rooms + and, instead, got into his touring-car and beat the speed limit to Canada. + Whom did he meet in the hotel corridor? A woman with a perfectly good + marriage certificate, or a detective with a perfectly good warrant? Or did + Harry find out that his bride had a devil of a temper of her own, and that + for him marriage was a failure? The widow is certainly a very charming + young woman, but there may be two sides to this.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a cynic, sir,” protested the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” growled the reporter, “but I am not a private detective + agency, or a matrimonial bureau, and before I hear myself saying, ‘Bless + you, my children!’ both of these young people will have to show me why + they should not be kept asunder.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + On the afternoon of their arrival in London Ford convoyed Mrs. Ashton to + an old-established private hotel in Craven Street. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he explained, “you will be within a few hundred yards of the place + in which your husband is said to spend his time. I will be living in the + same hotel. If I find him you will know it in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + The widow gave a little gasp, whether of excitement or of happiness Ford + could not determine. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever happens,” she begged, “will you let me hear from you sometimes? + You are the only person I know in London—and—it’s so big it + frightens me. I don’t want to be a burden,” she went on eagerly, “but if I + can feel you are within call—” + </p> + <p> + “What you need,” said Ford heartily, “is less of the doctor’s nerve tonic + and sleeping draughts, and a little innocent diversion. To-night I am + going to take you to the Savoy to supper.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ashton exclaimed delightedly, and then was filled with misgivings. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to wear,” she protested, “and over here, in the evening, + the women dress so well. I have a dinner gown,” she exclaimed, “but it’s + black. Would that do?” + </p> + <p> + Ford assured her nothing could be better. He had a man’s vanity in liking + a woman with whom he was seen in public to be pretty and smartly dressed, + and he felt sure that in black the blond beauty of Mrs. Ashton would + appear to advantage. They arranged to meet at eleven on the promenade + leading to the Savoy supper-room, and parted with mutual satisfaction at + the prospect. + </p> + <p> + The finding of Harry Ashton was so simple that in its very simplicity it + appeared spectacular. + </p> + <p> + On leaving Mrs. Ashton, Ford engaged rooms at the Hotel Cecil. Before + visiting his rooms he made his way to the American bar. He did not go + there seeking Harry Ashton. His object was entirely self-centred. His + purpose was to drink to himself and to the lights of London. But as though + by appointment, the man he had promised to find was waiting for him. As + Ford entered the room, at a table facing the door sat Ashton. There was no + mistaking him. He wore a mustache, but it was no disguise. He was the same + good-natured, good-looking youth who, in the photograph from under a + Panama hat, had smiled upon the world. With a glad cry Ford rushed toward + him. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy meeting YOU!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ashton’s good-natured smile did not relax. He merely shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Afraid you have made a mistake,” he said. The reporter regarded him + blankly. His face showed his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you Charles W. Garrett, of New York?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Not me,” said Mr. Ashton. + </p> + <p> + “But,” Ford insisted in hurt tones, as though he were being trifled with, + “you have been told you look like him, haven’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ashton’s good nature was unassailable. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry,” he declared, “never heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + Ford became garrulous, he could not believe two men could look so much + alike. It was a remarkable coincidence. The stranger must certainly have a + drink, the drink intended for his twin. Ashton was bored, but accepted. He + was well acquainted with the easy good-fellowship of his countrymen. The + room in which he sat was a meeting-place for them. He considered that they + were always giving each other drinks, and not only were they always + introducing themselves, but saying, “Shake hands with my friend, Mr. + So-and-So.” After five minutes they showed each other photographs of the + children. This one, though as loquacious as the others, seemed better + dressed, more “wise”; he brought to the exile the atmosphere of his + beloved Broadway, so Ashton drank to him pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Sydney Carter,” he volunteered. + </p> + <p> + As a poker-player skims over the cards in his hand, Ford, in his mind’s + eye, ran over the value of giving or not giving his right name. He decided + that Ashton would not have heard it and that, if he gave a false one, + there was a chance that later Ashton might find out that he had done so. + Accordingly he said, “Mine is Austin Ford,” and seated himself at Ashton’s + table. Within ten minutes the man he had promised to pluck from among the + eight million inhabitants of London was smiling sympathetically at his + jests and buying a drink. + </p> + <p> + On the steamer Ford had rehearsed the story with which, should he meet + Ashton, he would introduce himself. It was one arranged to fit with his + theory that Ashton was a crook. If Ashton were a crook Ford argued that to + at once ingratiate himself in his good graces he also must be a crook. His + plan was to invite Ashton to co-operate with him in some scheme that was + openly dishonest. By so doing he hoped apparently to place himself at + Ashton’s mercy. He believed if he could persuade Ashton he was more of a + rascal than Ashton himself, and an exceedingly stupid rascal, any distrust + the bookmaker might feel toward him would disappear. He made his advances + so openly, and apparently showed his hand so carelessly, that, from being + bored, Ashton became puzzled, then interested; and when Ford insisted he + should dine with him, he considered it so necessary to find out who the + youth might be who was forcing himself upon him that he accepted the + invitation. + </p> + <p> + They adjourned to dress and an hour later, at Ford’s suggestion, they met + at the Carlton. There Ford ordered a dinner calculated to lull his newly + made friend into a mood suited to confidence, but which had on Ashton + exactly the opposite effect. Merely for the pleasure of his company, utter + strangers were not in the habit of treating him to strawberries in + February, and vintage champagne; and, in consequence, in Ford’s + hospitality he saw only cause for suspicion. If, as he had first feared, + Ford was a New York detective, it was most important he should know that. + No one better than Ashton understood that, at that moment, his presence in + New York meant, for the police, unalloyed satisfaction, and for himself + undisturbed solitude. But Ford was unlike any detective of his + acquaintance; and his acquaintance had been extensive. It was true Ford + was familiar with all the habits of Broadway and the Tenderloin. Of places + with which Ashton was intimate, and of men with whom Ashton had formerly + been well acquainted, he talked glibly. But, if he were a detective, + Ashton considered, they certainly had improved the class. + </p> + <p> + The restaurant into which for the first time Ashton had penetrated, and in + which he felt ill at ease, was to Ford, he observed, a matter of course. + Evidently for Ford it held no terrors. He criticised the service, + patronized the head waiters, and grumbled at the food; and when, on + leaving the restaurant, an Englishman and his wife stopped at their table + to greet him, he accepted their welcome to London without embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + Ashton, rolling his cigar between his lips, observed the incident with + increasing bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got some swell friends,” he growled. “I’ll bet you never met THEM + at Healey’s!” + </p> + <p> + “I meet all kinds of people in my business,” said Ford. “I once sold that + man some mining stock, and the joke of it was,” he added, smiling + knowingly, “it turned out to be good.” + </p> + <p> + Ashton decided that the psychological moment had arrived. + </p> + <p> + “What IS your business?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a company promoter,” said Ford easily. “I thought I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not tell you that I was a company promoter, too, did I?” demanded + Ashton. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Ford, with apparent surprise. “Are you? That’s funny.” + </p> + <p> + Ashton watched for the next move, but the subject seemed in no way to + interest Ford. Instead of following it up he began afresh. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any money lying idle?” he asked abruptly. “About a thousand + pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Ashton recognized that the mysterious stranger was about to disclose both + himself and whatever object he had in seeking him out. He cast a quick + glance about him. + </p> + <p> + “I can always find money,” he said guardedly. “What’s the proposition?” + </p> + <p> + With pretended nervousness Ford leaned forward and began the story he had + rehearsed. It was a new version of an old swindle and to every + self-respecting confidence man was well known as the “sick engineer” game. + The plot is very simple. The sick engineer is supposed to be a mining + engineer who, as an expert, has examined a gold mine and reported against + it. For his services the company paid him partly in stock. He falls ill + and is at the point of death. While he has been ill much gold has been + found in the mine he examined, and the stock which he considers worthless + is now valuable. Of this, owing to his illness, he is ignorant. One + confidence man acts the part of the sick engineer, and the other that of a + broker who knows the engineer possesses the stock but has no money with + which to purchase it from him. For a share of the stock he offers to tell + the dupe where it and the engineer can be found. They visit the man, + apparently at the point of death, and the dupe gives him money for his + stock. Later the dupe finds the stock is worthless, and the supposed + engineer and the supposed broker divide the money he paid for it. In + telling the story Ford pretended he was the broker and that he thought in + Ashton he had found a dupe who would buy the stock from the sick engineer. + </p> + <p> + As the story unfolded and Ashton appreciated the part Ford expected him to + play in it, his emotions were so varied that he was in danger of apoplexy. + Amusement, joy, chagrin, and indignation illuminated his countenance. His + cigar ceased to burn, and with his eyes opened wide he regarded Ford in + pitying wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” he commanded. He shook his head uncomprehendingly. “Tell me,” he + asked, “do I look as easy as that, or are you just naturally foolish?” + </p> + <p> + Ford pretended to fall into a state of great alarm. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Why, son,” exclaimed Ashton kindly, “I was taught that story in the + public schools. I invented it. I stopped using it before you cut your + teeth. Gee!” he exclaimed delightedly. “I knew I had grown + respectable-looking, but I didn’t think I was so damned + respectable-looking as that!” He began to laugh silently; so greatly was + he amused that the tears shone in his eyes and his shoulders shook. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry for you, son,” he protested, “but that’s the funniest thing + that’s come my way in two years. And you buying me hot-house grapes, too, + and fancy water! I wish you could see your face,” he taunted. + </p> + <p> + Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he declared roughly. “The laugh’s on me this time, but just + because I lost one trick, don’t think I don’t know my business. Now that + I’m wise to what YOU are we can work together and—” + </p> + <p> + The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave. His jaws snapped like + a trap. When he spoke his tone was assured and slightly contemptuous. + </p> + <p> + “Not with ME you can’t work!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think because I fell down on this,” Ford began hotly. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not thinking of you at all,” said Ashton. “You’re a nice little + fellow all right, but you have sized me up wrong. I am on the ‘straight + and narrow’ that leads back to little old New York and God’s country, and + I am warranted not to run off my trolley.” + </p> + <p> + The words were in the vernacular, but the tone in which the young man + spoke rang so confidently that it brought to Ford a pleasant thrill of + satisfaction. From the first he had found in the personality of the young + man something winning and likable; a shrewd manliness and tolerant + good-humor. His eyes may have shown his sympathy, for, in sudden + confidence, Ashton leaned nearer. + </p> + <p> + “It’s like this,” he said. “Several years ago I made a bad break and, + about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and run. In a month + the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go back. And you can bet I’m + GOING back. I will be on the bowsprit of the first boat. I’ve had all I + want of the ‘fugitive-from-justice’ game, thank you, and I have taken good + care to keep a clean bill of health so that I won’t have to play it again. + They’ve been trying to get me for several years—especially the + Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe. Chased me with all kinds + of men; sometimes with women; they’ve tried everything except + blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a ‘Pink,’ that’s why—” + </p> + <p> + “I!” interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. “That’s GOOD! That’s one on + YOU.” He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. “How do you know I’m + not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and his + eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion. Ford continued + to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with relief. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take a chance with you,” he said, “and if you are as bad a detective + as you are a sport I needn’t worry.” + </p> + <p> + They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his glass + and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “But they haven’t got me yet,” continued Ashton, “and unless they get me + in the next thirty days I’m free. So you needn’t think that I’ll help you. + It’s ‘never again’ for me. The first time, that was the fault of the crowd + I ran with; the second time, that would be MY fault. And there ain’t going + to be any second time.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head doggedly, and with squared shoulders leaned back in his + chair. + </p> + <p> + “If it only breaks right for me,” he declared, “I’ll settle down in one of + those ‘Own-your own-homes,’ forty-five minutes from Broadway, and never + leave the wife and the baby.” + </p> + <p> + The words almost brought Ford to his feet. He had forgotten the wife and + the baby. He endeavored to explain his surprise by a sudden assumption of + incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy you married!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Married!” protested Ashton. “I’m married to the finest little lady that + ever wore skirts, and in thirty-seven days I’ll see her again. + Thirty-seven days,” he repeated impatiently. “Gee! That’s a hell of a long + time!” + </p> + <p> + Ford studied the young man with increased interest. That he was speaking + sincerely, from the heart, there seemed no possible doubt. + </p> + <p> + Ashton frowned and his face clouded. “I’ve not been able to treat her just + right,” he volunteered. “If she wrote me, the letters might give them a + clew, and I don’t write HER because I don’t want her to know all my + troubles until they’re over. But I know,” he added, “that five minutes’ + talk will set it all right. That is, if she still feels about me the way I + feel about her.” + </p> + <p> + The man crushed his cigar in his fingers and threw the pieces on the + floor. “That’s what’s been the worst!” he exclaimed bitterly. “Not + hearing, not knowing. It’s been hell!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes as he raised them were filled with suffering, deep and genuine. + </p> + <p> + Ford rose suddenly. “Let’s go down to the Savoy for supper,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Supper!” growled Ashton. “What’s the use of supper? Do you suppose cold + chicken and a sardine can keep me from THINKING?” + </p> + <p> + Ford placed his hand on the other’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You come with me,” he said kindly. “I’m going to do you a favor. I’m + going to bring you a piece of luck. Don’t ask me any questions,” he + commanded hurriedly. “Just take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + They had sat so late over their cigars that when they reached the + restaurant on the Embankment the supper-room was already partly filled, + and the corridors and lounge were brilliantly lit and gay with + well-dressed women. Ashton regarded the scene with gloomy eyes. Since he + had spoken of his wife he had remained silent, chewing savagely on a fresh + cigar. But Ford was grandly excited. He did not know exactly what he + intended to do. He was prepared to let events direct themselves, but of + two things he was assured: Mrs. Ashton loved her husband, and her husband + loved her. As the god in the car who was to bring them together, he felt a + delightful responsibility. + </p> + <p> + The young men left the coat-room and came down the short flight of steps + that leads to the wide lounge of the restaurant. Ford slightly in advance, + searching with his eyes for Mrs Ashton, found her seated alone in the + lounge, evidently waiting for him. At the first glance she was hardly be + recognized. Her low-cut dinner gown of black satin that clung to her like + a wet bath robe was the last word of the new fashion; and since Ford had + seen her her blond hair had been arranged by an artist. Her appearance was + smart, elegant, daring. She was easily the prettiest and most + striking-looking woman in the room, and for an instant Ford stood gazing + at her, trying to find in the self-possessed young woman the deserted wife + of the steamer. She did not see Ford. Her eyes were following the progress + down the hall of a woman, and her profile was toward him. + </p> + <p> + The thought of the happiness he was about to bring to two young people + gave Ford the sense of a genuine triumph, and when he turned to Ashton to + point out his wife to him he was thrilling with pride and satisfaction. + His triumph received a bewildering shock. Already Ashton had discovered + the presence of Mrs. Ashton. He was standing transfixed, lost to his + surroundings, devouring her with his eyes. And then, to the amazement of + Ford, his eyes filled with fear, doubt, and anger. Swiftly, with the + movement of a man ducking a blow, he turned and sprang up the stairs and + into the coat-room. Ford, bewildered and more conscious of his + surroundings, followed him less quickly, and was in consequence only in + time to see Ashton, dragging his overcoat behind him, disappear into the + court-yard. He seized his own coat and raced in pursuit. As he ran into + the court-yard Ashton, in the Strand, was just closing the door of a + taxicab, but before the chauffeur could free it from the surrounding + traffic, Ford had dragged the door open, and leaped inside. Ashton was + huddled in the corner, panting, his face pale with alarm. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil ails you?” roared Ford. “Are you trying to shake me? + You’ve got to come back. You must speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak to her!” repeated Ashton. His voice was sunk to a whisper. The look + of alarm in his face was confused with one grim and menacing. “Did you + know she was there?” he demanded softly. “Did you take me there, knowing—?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I knew,” protested Ford. “She’s been looking for you—” + </p> + <p> + His voice subsided in a squeak of amazement and pain. Ashton’s left hand + had shot out and swiftly seized his throat. With the other he pressed an + automatic revolver against Ford’s shirt front. + </p> + <p> + “I know she’s been looking for me,” the man whispered thickly. “For two + years she’s been looking for me. I know all about HER! But, WHO IN HELL + ARE YOU?” + </p> + <p> + Ford, gasping and gurgling, protested loyally. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong!” he cried. “She’s been at home waiting for you. She thinks + you have deserted her and your baby. I tell you she loves you, you fool, + she LOVES you!” + </p> + <p> + The fingers on his throat suddenly relaxed; the flaming eyes of Ashton, + glaring into his, wavered and grew wide with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Loves me,” he whispered. “WHO loves me?” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife,” protested Ford; “the girl at the Savoy, your wife.” + </p> + <p> + Again the fingers of Ashton pressed deep around his neck. + </p> + <p> + “That is not my wife,” he whispered. His voice was unpleasantly cold and + grim. “That’s ‘Baby Belle,’ with her hair dyed, a detective lady of the + Pinkertons, hired to find me. And YOU know it. Now, who are YOU?” + </p> + <p> + To permit him to reply Ashton released his hand, but at the same moment, + in a sudden access of fear, dug the revolver deeper into the pit of Ford’s + stomach. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” he commanded. “Never mind the girl. WHO ARE YOU?” + </p> + <p> + Ford collapsed against the cushioned corner of the cab. “And she begged me + to find you,” he roared, “because she LOVED you, because she wanted to + BELIEVE in you!” He held his arms above his head. “Go ahead and shoot!” he + cried. “You want to know who I am?” he demanded. His voice rang with rage. + “I’m an amateur. Just a natural born fool-amateur! Go on and shoot!” + </p> + <p> + The gun in Ashton’s hand sank to his knee. Between doubt and laughter his + face was twisted in strange lines. The cab was whirling through a narrow, + unlit street leading to Covent Garden. Opening the door Ashton called to + the chauffeur, and then turned to Ford. + </p> + <p> + “You get off here!” he commanded. “Maybe you’re a ‘Pink,’ maybe you’re a + good fellow. I think you’re a good fellow, but I’m not taking any chances. + Get out!” + </p> + <p> + Ford scrambled to the street, and as the taxicab again butted itself + forward, Ashton leaned far through the window. “Good-by, son,” he called. + “Send me a picture-postal card to Paris. For I am off to Maxim’s,” he + cried, “and you can go to—” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all!” shouted the amateur detective indignantly. “I’m going back + to take supper with ‘Baby Belle’!” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR *** + +***** This file should be named 1822-h.htm or 1822-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/1822/ + +Produced by Don Lainson; 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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