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diff --git a/1843-h/1843-h.htm b/1843-h/1843-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..25e8e9e --- /dev/null +++ b/1843-h/1843-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5480 @@ +<?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> + Vera, the Medium, 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 Vera, 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: Vera + The Medium + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: November 23, 2008 [EBook #1843] +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERA *** + + + + +Produced by Jeetender B. Chandna, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + VERA, + </h1> + <h2> + THE MEDIUM + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <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_PART1"> Part I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> Part II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> Part III </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Part I + </h2> + <p> + Happy in the hope that the news was “exclusive”, the Despatch had thrown + the name of Stephen Hallowell, his portrait, a picture of his house, and + the words, “At Point of Death!” across three columns. The announcement was + heavy, lachrymose, bristling with the melancholy self-importance of the + man who “saw the deceased, just two minutes before the train hit him.” + </p> + <p> + But the effect of the news fell short of the effort. Save that city + editors were irritated that the presidents of certain railroads figured + hastily on slips of paper, the fact that an old man and his millions would + soon be parted, left New York undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + In the early 80’s this would not have been so. Then, in the uplifting of + the far West, Stephen Hallowell was a national figure, in the manoeuvres + of the Eastern stock market an active, alert power. In those days, when a + man with a few millions was still listed as rich, his fortune was + considered colossal. + </p> + <p> + A patent coupling-pin, the invention of his brother-in-law, had given him + his start, and, in introducing it, and in his efforts to force it upon the + new railroads of the West, he had obtained a knowledge of their affairs. + From that knowledge came his wealth. That was twenty years ago. Since then + giants had arisen in the land; men whose wealth made the fortune of + Stephen Hallowell appear a comfortable competence, his schemes and + stratagems, which, in their day, had bewildered Wall Street, as simple as + the trading across the counter of a cross-roads store. For years he had + been out of it. He had lost count. Disuse and ill health had rendered his + mind feeble, made him at times suspicious, at times childishly credulous. + Without friends, along with his physician and the butler, who was also his + nurse, he lived in the house that in 76, in a burst of vanity, he had + built on Fifth Avenue. Then the house was a “mansion,” and its front of + brown sandstone the outward sign of wealth and fashion. Now, on one side, + it rubbed shoulders with the shop of a man milliner, and across the street + the houses had been torn down and replaced by a department store. Now, + instead of a sombre jail-like facade, his outlook was a row of waxen + ladies, who, before each change of season, appeared in new and gorgeous + raiment, and, across the avenue, for his approval, smiled continually. + </p> + <p> + “It is time you moved, Stephen,” urged his friend and lawyer, Judge Henry + Gaylor. “I can get you twice as much for this lot as you paid for both it + and the house.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Hallowell always shook his head. “Where would I go, Henry?” he + would ask. “What would I do with the money? No, I will live in this house + until I am carried out of it.” + </p> + <p> + With distaste, the irritated city editors “followed up” the three-column + story of the Despatch. + </p> + <p> + “Find out if there’s any truth in that,” they commanded. “The old man + won’t see you, but get a talk out of Rainey. And see Judge Gaylor. He’s + close to Hallowell. Find out from him if that story didn’t start as a bear + yarn in Wall Street.” + </p> + <p> + So, when Walsh of the Despatch was conducted by Garrett, the butler of Mr. + Hallowell, upstairs to that gentlemen’s library, he found a group of + reporters already entrenched. At the door that opened from the library to + the bedroom, the butler paused. “What paper shall I say?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The Despatch,” Walsh told him. + </p> + <p> + The servant turned quickly and stared at Walsh. + </p> + <p> + He appeared the typical butler, an Englishman of over forty, heavily + built, soft-moving, with ruddy, smooth-shaven cheeks and prematurely gray + hair. But now from his face the look of perfunctory politeness had fallen; + the subdued voice had changed to a snarl that carried with it the accents + of the Tenderloin. + </p> + <p> + “So, you’re the one, are you?” the man muttered. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he stood scowling; insolent, almost threatening, and then, + once more, the servant opened the door and noiselessly closed it behind + him. + </p> + <p> + The transition had been so abrupt, the revelation so unexpected, that the + men laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t blame him!” said young Irving. “I couldn’t find a single fact in + the whole story. How’d your people get it—pretty straight?” + </p> + <p> + “Seemed straight to us,” said Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you didn’t handle it that way,” returned the other. “Why didn’t you + quote Rainey or Gaylor? It seems to me if a man’s on the point of death”—he + lowered his voice and glanced toward the closed door—“that his + private doctor and his lawyer might know something about it.” + </p> + <p> + Standing alone with his back to the window was a reporter who had greeted + no one and to whom no one had spoken. + </p> + <p> + Had he held himself erect he would have been tall, but he stood slouching + lazily, his shoulders bent, his hands in his pockets. When he spoke his + voice was in keeping with the indolence of his bearing. It was soft, + hesitating, carrying with it the courteous deference of the South. Only + his eyes showed that to what was going forward he was alert and attentive. + </p> + <p> + “Is Dr. Rainey Mr. Hallowell’s family doctor?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Irving surveyed him in amused superiority. + </p> + <p> + “He is!” he answered. “You been long in New York?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Upon the stranger the sarcasm was lost, or he chose to ignore it, for he + answered simply, “No, I’m a New Orleans boy. I’ve just been taken on the + Republic.” + </p> + <p> + “Welcome to our city,” said Irving. “What do you think of our Main + Street?” + </p> + <p> + From the hall a tall portly man entered the room with the assurance of one + much at home here and, with an exclamation, Irving fell upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Judge,” he called. He waved at him the clipping from the + Despatch. “Have you seen this?” + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor accepted the slip of paper gingerly, and in turn moved his + fine head pompously toward each of the young men. Most of them were known + to him, but for the moment he preferred to appear too deeply concerned to + greet them. With an expression of shocked indignation, he recognized only + Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have seen it,” he said, “and there is not a word of truth in it! + Mr. Walsh, I am surprised! You, of all people!” + </p> + <p> + “We got it on very good authority,” said the reporter. + </p> + <p> + “But why not call me up and get the facts?” demanded the Judge. “I was + here until twelve o’clock, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” interrupted Irving. “Then he did have a collapse?” + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor swung upon his heel. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he retorted angrily. “I was here on business, and I have + never known his mind more capable, more alert.” He lifted his hands with + an enthusiastic gesture. “I wish you could have seen him!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” urged Irving, “how about our seeing him now?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Judge Gaylor permitted his annoyance to appear, but he at + once recovered and, murmuring cheerfully, “Certainly, certainly; I’ll try + to arrange it,” turned to the butler who had re-entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Garett,” he inquired, “is Mr. Hallowell awake yet?” As he asked the + question his eyebrows rose; with an almost imperceptible shake of the head + he signaled for an answer in the negative. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are!” the Judge exclaimed heartily. “I can’t wake him, + even to oblige you. In a word, gentlemen, Stephen Hallowell has never been + in better health, mentally and bodily. You can say that from me—and + that’s all there is to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, we can say,” persisted Irving, “that you say, that Walsh’s story is + a fake?” + </p> + <p> + “You can say it is not true,” corrected Gaylor. “That’s all, gentlemen.” + The audience was at an end. The young men moved toward the hall and Judge + Gaylor turned to the bedroom. As he did so, he found that the new man on + the Republic still held his ground. + </p> + <p> + “Could I have a word with you, sir?” the stranger asked. The reporters + halted jealously. Again Gaylor showed his impatience. + </p> + <p> + “About Mr. Hallowell’s health?” he demanded. “There’s nothing more to + say.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s not about his health,” ventured the reporter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, not now. I am very late this morning.” The Judge again moved to the + bedroom and the reporter, as though accepting the verdict, started to + follow the others. As he did so, as though in explanation or as a warning + he added: “You said to always come to you for the facts.” The lawyer + halted, hesitated. “What facts do you want?” he asked. The reporter bowed, + and waved his broad felt hat toward the listening men. In polite + embarrassment he explained what he had to say could not be spoken in their + presence. + </p> + <p> + Something in the manner of the stranger led Judge Gaylor to pause. He + directed Garrett to accompany the reporters from the room. Then, with mock + politeness, he turned to the one who remained. “I take it, you are a new + comer in New York journalism. What is your name?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Homer Lee,” said the Southerner. “I am a New Orleans boy. I’ve + been only a month in your city. Judge,” he began earnestly, but in a voice + which still held the drawl of the South, “I met a man from home last week + on Broadway. He belonged to that spiritualistic school on Carondelet + Street. He knows all that’s going on in the spook world, and he tells me + the ghost raisers have got their hooks into the old man pretty deep. Is + that so?” + </p> + <p> + The bewilderment of Judge Gaylor was complete and, without question, + genuine. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “My informant tells me,” continued the reporter, “that Mr. Hallowell has + embraced—if that’s what you call it—spiritualism.” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor started forward. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he roared. + </p> + <p> + Unmoved, the other regarded the Judge keenly. + </p> + <p> + “Spiritualism,” he repeated, “and that a bunch of these mediums have got + him so hypnotized he can’t call his soul his own, or his money, either. Is + that true?” + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor’s outburst was overwhelming. That it was genuine Mr. Lee, + observing him closely, was convinced. + </p> + <p> + “Of all the outrageous, ridiculous”—the judge halted, gasping for + words—“and libelous statements!” he went on. “If you print that,” he + thundered, “Mr. Hallowell will sue your paper for half a million dollars. + Can’t you see the damage you would do? Can’t your people see that if the + idea got about that he was unable to direct his own affairs, that he was + in the hands of mediums, it would invalidate everything he does? After his + death, every act of his at this time, every paper he had signed, would be + suspected, and—and”—stammered the Judge as his imagination + pictured what might follow—“they might even attack his will!” He + advanced truculently. “Do you mean to publish this libel?” + </p> + <p> + Lee moved his shoulders in deprecation. “I’m afraid we must,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You must!” demanded Gaylor. “After what I’ve told you? Do you think I’m + lying to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the reporter; “I don’t think you are. Looks more like you + didn’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Not know? I?” Gaylor laughed hysterically. “I am his lawyer. I am his + best friend! Who will you believe?” He stepped to the table and pressed an + electric button, and Garrett appeared in the hall. “Tell Dr. Rainey I want + to see him,” Gaylor commanded, “and return with him.” + </p> + <p> + As they waited, Judge Gaylor paced quickly to and fro. “I’ve had to deny + some pretty silly stories about Mr. Hallowell,” he said, “but of all the + absurd, malicious—There’s some enemy back of this; some one in Wall + Street is doing this. But I’ll find him—I’ll—” he was + interrupted by the entrance of the butler and Dr. Rainey, Mr. Hallowell’s + personal physician. + </p> + <p> + Rainey was a young man with a weak face, and knowing, shifting eyes that + blinked behind a pair of eyeglasses. To conceal an indecision of character + of which he was quite conscious, he assumed a manner that, according to + whom he addressed, was familiar or condescending. At one of the big + hospitals he had been an ambulance surgeon and resident physician, later + he had started upon a somewhat doubtful career as a medical “expert.” Only + two years had passed since the police and the reporters of the Tenderloin + had ceased calling him “Doc.” In a celebrated criminal case in which + Gaylor had acted as chief counsel, he had found Rainey complaisant and + apparently totally without the moral sense. And when in Garrett he had + discovered for Mr. Hallowell a model servant, he had also urged upon his + friend, for his resident physician, his protege Rainey. + </p> + <p> + Still at white heat, the older man began abruptly: “This gentleman is from + the Republic. He is going to publish a story that Mr. Hallowell has fallen + under the influence of mediums, clairvoyants; that everything he does is + on advice from the spirit world—” he turned sharply upon Lee. “Is + that right?” The reporter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You can see the effect of such a story. It would invalidate every act of + Mr. Hallowell’s!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Rainey laughed offensively. + </p> + <p> + “It might,” he said, “but who’d believe it?” + </p> + <p> + “He believes it!” cried Gaylor, “or he pretends to believe it. Tell him!” + he commanded. “He won’t believe me. Does Mr. Hallowell associate with + mediums, and spirits—and spooks?” + </p> + <p> + Again the young doctor laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not!” he exclaimed. “It’s not worth answering, Judge. You ought + to treat it with silent contempt.” From behind his glasses he winked at + the reporter with a jocular, intimate smile. He was adapting himself to + what he imagined was his company. “Where did you pick up that pipe dream?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + Without answering, the Southerner regarded him steadily with inquiring, + interested eyes. The doctor coughed nervously and turned to Judge Gaylor. + In the manner of a cross-examination Gaylor called up his next witness. + </p> + <p> + “Garrett, does any one visit Mr. Hallowell without your knowledge?” he + asked. “You may not open the door for him, but you know every one who gets + in to see Mr. Hallowell, do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Every one, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you admit any mediums, palm-readers, or people of that sort?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” returned the butler. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Rainey,” he added, “would not permit it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor stamped his foot with impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Do you admit any one,” he demanded, “without Dr. Rainey’s permission?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” The reply could not have rung with greater emphasis. + Triumphantly, Gaylor, with a wave of the hand, as though saying, “Take the + witness,” turned to Lee. “There you are,” he cried. “Now, are you + satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + The reporter moved slowly toward the door. “I am satisfied,” he said, + “that the man doesn’t admit any one without Dr. Rainey’s permission.” + </p> + <p> + Indignantly, as though to intercept him, Judge Gaylor stepped forward. + Both Rainey and himself spoke together. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” Rainey demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Are you trying to be insolent, sir?” cried the Judge. + </p> + <p> + Lee smiled pleasantly. “I had no intention of being insolent,” he said. + “We have the facts—I only came to give you a chance to explain + them.” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor lost all patience. + </p> + <p> + “What facts?” he shouted. “What facts? That mediums come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lee. + </p> + <p> + “When?” Gaylor cried. “Tell me that! When?” + </p> + <p> + Lee regarded the older man thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well, today is Thursday,” he said. “They were here Monday morning, and + Tuesday morning—and—the one they call Vera—will be here + in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Rainey ran across the room, stretching out eager, detaining hands. + </p> + <p> + “See here!” he begged. “We can fix this!” + </p> + <p> + “Fix it?” said the reporter. “Not with me, you can’t.” He turned to the + door and found Garrett barring his exit. He halted, fell back on his + heels, and straightened his shoulders. For the first time they saw how + tall he was. + </p> + <p> + “Get out of my way,” he said. The butler hesitated and fell back. Lee + walked into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll leave you gentlemen to fight it out among you,” he said. “It’s a + better story than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + As he descended to the floor below, the men remained motionless. The face + of Judge Gaylor seemed to have grown older. When the front door closed, he + turned and searched the countenance of each of his companions. The butler + had dropped into a chair muttering and beating his fist into his open + palm. + </p> + <p> + Gaylor’s voice was hardly louder than a whisper. “Is this true?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Like a cur dog pinned in a corner and forced to fight, Rainey snarled at + him evilly. “Of course it’s true,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve let these people see him!” cried Gaylor. “After I forbade it? + After I told you what would happen?” + </p> + <p> + “He would see them,” Rainey answered hotly. “Twas better I chose them than—” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor raised his clenched hands and took a sudden step forward. The + Doctor backed hastily against the library table. “Don’t you come near me!” + he stammered. “Don’t you touch me.” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ve lied to me!” cried Gaylor. “You’ve deceived me. You—you + jailbirds—you idiots.” His voice rose hysterically. “And do you + think,” he demanded fiercely, “I’ll help you now?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said the butler. + </p> + <p> + The word caught the Judge in the full rush of his anger. He turned + stupidly as though he had not heard aright. “What?” he asked. From the + easy chair the butler regarded him with sullen, hostile eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he repeated. “We don’t think you’ll help us. You never meant to help + us. You’ve never thought of any one but yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The face of the older man was filled with reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Jim!” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t do that!” commanded the butler sharply. “I’ve told you not to do + that.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge moved his head slowly in amazement. The tone of reproach was + still in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you could understand,” he said. “It doesn’t matter about him. + But you! You should have seen what I was doing!” + </p> + <p> + “I saw what you were doing,” the butler replied. “Buying stocks, buying a + country place. You didn’t wait for him to die. What were we getting?” + </p> + <p> + With returning courage, Rainey nodded vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, all right,” he protested. “What were we getting?” + </p> + <p> + “What were you getting?” demanded Gaylor, eagerly. “If you’d only left him + to me, till he signed the new will, you’d have had everything. It only + needs his signature.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” interrupted Garrett contemptuously; “that’s all it needs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’d have signed it!” cried Gaylor. “But what’s it worth now! + Nothing! Thanks to you two—nothing! They’ll claim undue influence, + they’ll claim he signed it under the influence of mediums—of + ghosts.” His voice shook with anger and distress. “You’ve ruined me!” he + cried. “You’ve ruined me.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and paced from them, his fingers interlacing, his teeth biting + upon his lower lip. The two other men glanced at each other uncomfortably; + their silence seemed to assure Gaylor that already they regretted what + they had done. He stood over Garrett, and for an instant laid his hand + upon his shoulder. His voice now was sane and cold. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve worked three years for this,” he said. “And for you, too, Jim. You + know that. I’ve worked on his vanity, on his fear of death, on his damn + superstition. When he talked of restitution, of giving the money to his + niece, I asked Why?’ I said, Leave it for a great monument to your memory. + Isn’t it better that ten million dollars should be spent in good works in + your name than that it should go to a chit of a child to be wasted by some + fortune hunter? And—then—I evolved the Hallowell Institute, + university, hospital, library, all under one roof, all under one + direction; and I would have been the director. We should have handled ten + millions of dollars! I’d have made you both so rich,” he cried savagely, + “that in two years you’d have drunk yourselves into a mad-house. And you + couldn’t trust me! You’ve filled this house with fakes and palm-readers. + And, now, every one will know just what he is—a senile, half-witted + old man who was clay in my hands, clay in my hands—and you’ve robbed + me of him, you’ve robbed me of him!” His voice, broken with anger and + disappointment, rose in an hysterical wail. As though to meet it a bell + rang shrilly. Gaylor started and stood with eyes fixed on the door of the + bedroom. The three men eyed each other guiltily. + </p> + <p> + The butler was the first to recover. With mask-like face he hastened + noiselessly across the room. In his tones of usual authority, Gaylor + stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Mr. Hallowell,” he directed, “that his niece and District Attorney + Winthrop will be here any moment. Ask him if he wishes me to see them, or + if he will talk to them himself?” + </p> + <p> + When the faithful servant had entered the bedroom Gaylor turned to Rainey. + </p> + <p> + “When do these mediums come today?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Rainey stared sulkily at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I think they’re here now—downstairs,” he answered. “Garrett + generally hides them there till you’re out of the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” commented Gaylor dryly. “After Winthrop and Miss Coates have + gone, I want to talk with your friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, Judge,” whined Rainey; “don’t make trouble. It isn’t as + bad as you think. The old man’s only investigating—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” commanded the Judge. + </p> + <p> + From the bedroom, leaning on the butler’s arm, Stephen Hallowell came + stumbling toward them and, with a sigh, sank into an invalid’s chair that + was placed for him between the fire and the long library table.. He was a + very feeble, very old man, with a white face, and thin, white hair, but + with a mouth and lower jaw as hard and uncompromising as those of a skull. + His eyes, which were strangely brilliant and young-looking, peered + suspiciously from under ragged white eyebrows. But when they fell upon the + doctor, the eyes became suddenly credulous, pleading, filled with + self-pity. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a very sick man, Doctor,” said Mr. Hallowell. + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor bustled forward cheerily. “Nonsense, Stephen, nonsense,” he + cried; “you look a different man this morning. Doesn’t he, Doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure he does!” assented Rainey. “Little sleep was all he needed.” Mr. + Hallowell shook his head petulantly. “Not at all!” he protested. “That was + a very serious attack. This morning my head hurts—hurts me to think—” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Gaylor, “you’d prefer that I talked to your niece.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed the invalid excitedly. “I want to see her myself. I want + to tell her, once and for all—” He checked himself and frowned at + the Doctor. “You needn’t wait,” he said. “And Doctor,” he added meaningly, + “after these people go, you come back.” + </p> + <p> + With a conscious glance at the Judge, Rainey nodded and left them. + </p> + <p> + “No,” continued the old man; “I want to talk to my niece myself. But I + don’t want to talk to Winthrop. He’s too clever a young man, Winthrop. In + the merger case, you remember—had me on the stand for three hours. + Made me talk too.” The mind of the old man suddenly veered at a tangent. + “How the devil can Helen retain him?” he demanded peevishly. “She can’t + retain him. She hasn’t any money. And he’s District Attorney too. It’s + against the law. Is he doing it as a speculation? Does he want to marry + her?” + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor laughed soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens, no!” he said. “She’s in his office, that’s all. When she took + this craze to be independent of you, he gave her a position as secretary, + or as stenographer, or something. She’s probably told him her story, her + side of it, and he’s helping her out of charity.” The Judge smiled + tolerantly. “He does that sort of thing, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + The old man struck the library table with his palm. “I wish he’d mind his + own business,” he cried. “It’s my money. She has no claim to it, never had + any claim—” + </p> + <p> + The Judge interrupted quickly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, Stephen; that’s all right,” he said. “Don’t excite + yourself. Just get what you’re to say straight in your mind and stick to + it. Remember,” he went on, as though coaching a child in a task already + learned, “there never was a written agreement. + </p> + <p> + “No!” muttered Hallowell. “Never was!” + </p> + <p> + “Repeat this to yourself,” commanded the Judge. “The understanding between + you and your brother-in-law was that if you placed his patent on the + market, for the first five years you would share the profits equally. + After the five years, all rights in the patent became yours. It was + unfortunate,” commented the Judge dryly, “that your brother-in-law and + your sister died before the five years were up, especially as the patent + did not begin to make money until after five years. Remember—until + after five years.” + </p> + <p> + “Until after five years,” echoed Mr. Hallowell. “It was over six years,” + he went on excitedly, “before it made a cent. And, then, it was my money—and + anything I give my niece is charity. She’s not entitled—” + </p> + <p> + Garrett appeared at the door. “Miss Coates,” he announced, “and Mr. + Winthrop.” Judge Gaylor raised a hand for silence, and as Mr. Hallowell + sank back in his chair, Helen Coates, the only child of Catherine Coates, + his sister, and the young District Attorney of New York came into the + library. Miss Coates was a woman of between twenty-five and thirty, + capable, and self-reliant. She had a certain beauty of a severe type, but + an harassed expression about her eyes made her appear to be always + frowning. At times, in a hardening of the lower part of her face, she + showed a likeness to her uncle. Like him, in speaking, also, her manner + was positive and decided. + </p> + <p> + In age the young man who accompanied her was ten years her senior, but + where her difficulties had made her appear older than she really was, the + enthusiasm with which he had thrown himself against those of his own life, + had left him young. + </p> + <p> + The rise of Winthrop had been swift and spectacular. Almost as soon as he + graduated from the college in the little “up-state” town where he had been + educated, and his family had always lived, he became the prosecuting + attorney of that town, and later, at Albany, represented the district in + the Assembly. From Albany he entered a law office in New York City, and in + the cause of reform had fought so many good fights that on an independent + ticket, much to his surprise, he had been lifted to the high position he + now held. No more in his manner than in his appearance did Winthrop + suggest the popular conception of his role. He was not professional, not + mysterious. Instead, he was sane, cheerful, tolerant. It was his + philosophy to believe that the world was innocent until it was proved + guilty. + </p> + <p> + He was a bachelor and, except for two sisters who had married men of + prominence in New York and who moved in a world of fashion into which he + had not penetrated, he was alone. + </p> + <p> + When the visitors entered, Mr. Hallowell, without rising, greeted his + niece cordially. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Helen! I am glad to see you,” he called, and added reproachfully, “at + last.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, sir?” returned Miss Helen stiffly. With marked disapproval + she bowed to Judge Gaylor. + </p> + <p> + “And our District Attorney,” cried Mr. Hallowell. “Pardon my not rising, + won’t you? I haven’t seen you, sir, since you tried to get the Grand Jury + to indict me.” He chucked delightedly. “You didn’t succeed,” he taunted. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop shook hands with him, smiling, “Don’t blame me,” he said, “I did + my best. I’m glad to see you in such good spirits, Mr. Hallowell. I + feared, by the Despatch—” + </p> + <p> + “Lies, lies,” interrupted Hallowell curtly. “You know Judge Gaylor?” + </p> + <p> + As he shook hands, Winthrop answered that the Judge and he were old + friends; that they knew each other well. + </p> + <p> + “Know each other so well!” returned the Judge, “that we ought to be old + enemies.” + </p> + <p> + The younger man nodded appreciatively. “That’s true!” he laughed, “only I + didn’t think you’d admit it.” + </p> + <p> + With light sarcasm Mr. Hallowell inquired whether Winthrop was with them + in his official capacity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t suggest that!” begged Winthrop; “you’ll be having me indicted + next. No sir, I am here without any excuse whatsoever. I am just + interfering as a friend of this young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” commented Hallowell. “I’d be sorry to have my niece array counsel + against me—especially such distinguished counsel. Sit down, Helen.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Coates balanced herself on the edge of a chair and spoke in cool, + business-like tones, “Mr. Hallowell,” she began, “I came.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hallowell?” objected her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Stephen,” Miss Coates again began, “I wish to be as brief as + possible. I asked you to see me today because I hoped that by talking + things over we might avoid lawsuits and litigation.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell nodded his approval. “Yes,” he said encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + “I have told Mr. Winthrop what the trouble is,” Miss Coates went on, “and + he agrees with me that I have been very unjustly treated—” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” interrupted Hallowell. + </p> + <p> + “By you,” said his niece. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Helen,” commanded the old man. “Have you also told Mr. Winthrop,” + he demanded, “that I have made a will in your favor? That, were I to die + tonight, you would inherit ten millions of dollars? Is that the injustice + of which you complain?” + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor gave an exclamation of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he applauded. “Excellent!” + </p> + <p> + Hallowell turned indignantly to Winthrop. “And did she tell you also,” he + demanded, “that for three years I have urged her to make a home in this + house? That I have offered her an income as large as I would give my own + daughter, and that she has refused both offers. And what’s more”—in + his excitement his voice rose hysterically—“by working publicly for + her living she has made me appear mean and uncharitable, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just it,” interrupted Miss Coates. “It isn’t a question of + charity.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you allow me?” said Winthrop soothingly. “Your niece contends, sir,” + he explained, “that this money you offered her is not yours to offer. She + claims it belongs to her. That it’s what should have been her father’s + share of the profits on the Coates-Hallowell coupling pin. But, as you + have willed your niece so much money, although half of it is hers already, + I advised her not to fight. Going to law is an expensive business. But she + has found out—and that’s what brings me uptown this morning—that + you intend to make a new will, and leave all her money and your own to + establish the Hallowell Institute. Now,” Winthrop continued, with a + propitiating smile, “Miss Coates also would like to be a philanthropist, + in her own way, with her own money. And she wishes to warn you that, + unless you deliver up what is due her, she will proceed against you.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor was the first to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Winthrop,” he said impressively, “I give you my word, there is not + one dollar due Miss Coates, except what Mr. Hallowell pleases to give + her.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Coates contradicted him sharply. “That is not so,” she said. She + turned to her uncle, “You and my father,” she declared, “agreed in writing + you would share the profits always.” Mr. Hallowell looked from his niece + to his lawyer. The lawyer, eyeing him apprehensively, nodded. With the + patient voice of one who tried to reason with an unreasonable child, Mr. + Hallowell began. “Helen,” he said, “I have told you many times there never + was such an agreement. There was a verbal—” + </p> + <p> + “And I repeat, I saw it,” said Miss Coates. + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked Hallowell. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it first when I was fifteen,” answered the young woman steadily, + “and two years later, before mother died, she showed it to me again. It + was with father’s papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Coates,” asked the Judge, “where is this agreement now?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Miss Coates hesitated. Her dislike for Gaylor was so evident + that, to make it less apparent, she lowered her eyes. “My uncle should be + able to tell you,” she said evenly. “He was my father’s executor. But, + when he returned my father’s papers”—she paused and then, although + her voice fell to almost a whisper, continued defiantly, “the agreement + was not with them.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. To assure himself the others had heard as he + did, Mr. Hallowell glanced quickly from Winthrop to Gaylor. He half rose + from his chair and leaned across the table. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he demanded. His niece looked at him steadily. + </p> + <p> + “You heard what I said,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + The old man leaned farther forward. + </p> + <p> + “So!” he cried; “so! I am not only doing you an injustice, but I am a + thief! Mr. Winthrop,” he cried appealingly, “do you appreciate the + seriousness of this?” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop nodded cheerfully. “It’s certainly pretty serious,” he assented. + </p> + <p> + “It is so serious,” cried Mr. Hallowell, “that I welcome you into this + matter. Now, we will settle it once and forever.” He turned to his niece. + “I have tried to be generous,” he cried; “I have tried to be kind, and you + insult me in my own house.” He pressed the button that summoned the butler + from the floor below. “Gentlemen, this interview is at an end. From now on + this matter is in the hands of my lawyer. We will settle this in the + courts.” + </p> + <p> + With an exclamation of pleasure that was an acceptance of his challenge, + Miss Coates rose. + </p> + <p> + “That is satisfactory to me,” she said. Winthrop turned to Mr. Hallowell. + </p> + <p> + “Could I have a few minutes talk with Judge Gaylor now?” he asked. “Not as + anybody’s counsel,” he explained; “just as an old enemy of his?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not here,” protested the old man querulously. “I’m—I’m + expecting some friends here. Judge, take Mr. Winthrop to the drawing room + downstairs.” He turned to Garrett, who had appeared in answer to his + summons, and told him to bring Dr. Rainey to the library. The butler left + the room and, as Gaylor and Winthrop followed, the latter asked Miss + Coates if he might expect to see her at the “Office.” She told him that + she was now on her way there. Without acknowledging the presence of her + uncle, she had started to follow the others, when Mr. Hallowell stopped + her. + </p> + <p> + After they were alone, for a moment he sat staring at her, his eyes filled + with dislike and with a suggestion of childish spite. “I might as well + tell you,” he began, “that after what you said this morning, I will never + give you a single dollar of my money.” + </p> + <p> + The tone in which his niece replied to him was no more conciliatory than + his own. “You cannot give it to me,” she answered, “because it is not + yours to give.” As though to add impressiveness to what she was about to + say, or to prevent his interrupting her, she raised her hand. So + interested in each other were the old man and the girl that neither + noticed the appearance in the door of Dr. Rainey and the butler, who + halted, hesitating, waiting permission to enter. + </p> + <p> + “That money belongs to me,” said Miss Coates slowly, “and as sure as my + mother is in Heaven and her spirit is guiding me, that money will be given + me.” + </p> + <p> + In the pause that followed, a swift and singular change came over the face + of Mr. Hallowell. He stared at his niece as though fascinated. His lower + lip dropped in awe. The look of hostility gave way to one of intense + interest. His voice was hardly louder than a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him, uncomprehending. “What do I mean?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “When you said,” he stammered eagerly, “that the spirit of your mother was + guiding you, what did you mean?” + </p> + <p> + In the doorway, Rainey and the butler started. Each threw the other a + quick glance of concern. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” exclaimed the girl impatiently, “her influence, her example, what + she taught me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed the old man. He leaned back with an air almost of + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “When she was alive?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” answered the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” repeated the uncle. “I thought you meant—” He looked + suspiciously at her and shook his head. “Never mind,” he added. “Well,” he + went on cynically, striving to cover up the embarrassment of the moment, + “your mother’s spirit will probably feel as deep an interest in her + brother as in her daughter. We shall see, we shall see which of us two she + is going to help.” He turned to Garrett and Rainey in the hall. “Take my + niece to the door, Garrett,” he directed. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Miss Coates had disappeared, Hallowell turned to Rainey, his + face lit with pleased and childish anticipation. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he whispered eagerly, “is she here?” + </p> + <p> + Rainey nodded and glanced in the direction opposite to the one Miss Coates + had taken. “She’s been waiting half an hour. And the Professor too.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring them at once,” commanded Mr. Hallowell excitedly. “And then shut + the door—and—and tell the Judge I can’t see him—tell him + I’m too tired to see him. Understand?” + </p> + <p> + Rainey peered cautiously over the railing of the stairs to the first + floor, and then beckoned to some one who apparently was waiting at the end + of the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vera, sir,” he announced, “and Professor Vance.” + </p> + <p> + Although but lately established in New York, the persons Dr. Rainey + introduced had already made themselves comparatively well-known. For the + last six weeks as “headliners” at one of the vaudeville theatres, and as + entertainers at private houses, under the firm name of “The Vances,” they + had been giving an exhibition of code and cipher signaling. They called it + mind reading. During the day, at the house of Vance and his wife, the + girl, as “Vera, the Medium,” furnished to all comers memories of the past + or news of the future. In their profession, in all of its branches, the + man and the girl were past masters. They knew it from the A, B, C of the + dream book to the post-graduate work of projecting from a cabinet the + spirits of the dead. As the occasion offered and paid best, they were mind + readers, clairvoyants, materializing mediums, test mediums. From them, a + pack of cards, a crystal globe, the lines of the human hand, held no + secrets. They found lost articles, cast horoscopes, gave advice in affairs + of the heart, of business and speculation, uttered warnings of journeys + over seas and against a smooth-shaven stranger. They even stooped to + foretell earthquakes, or caused to drop fluttering from the ceiling a + letter straight from the Himalayas. Among those who are the gypsies of the + cities, they were the aristocrats of their calling, and to them that + calling was as legitimate a business as is, to the roadside gypsy, the + swapping of horses. The fore-parents of each had followed that same + calling, and to the children it was commonplace and matter-of-fact. It + held no adventure, no moral obloquy. + </p> + <p> + “Prof.” Paul Vance was a young man of under forty years. He looked like a + fox. He had red eyes, alert and cunning, a long, sharp-pointed nose, a + pointed red beard, and red eyebrows that slanted upward. His hair, + standing erect in a pompadour, and his uplifted eyebrows gave him the + watchful look of the fox when he hears suddenly the hound baying in + pursuit. But no one had ever successfully pursued Vance. No one had ever + driven him into a corner from which, either pleasantly, or with raging + indignation, he was not able to free himself. Seven years before he had + disloyally married out of the “profession” and for no other reason than + that he was in love with the woman he married. She had come to seek advice + from the spirit world in regard to taking a second husband. After several + visits the spirit world had advised Vance to advise her to marry Vance. + </p> + <p> + She did so, and though the man was still in love with his wife, he had not + found her, in his work, the assistance he had hoped she might be. She + still was a “believer”; in the technical vernacular of her husband—“a + dope.” Not even the intimate knowledge she had gained behind the scenes + could persuade her that Paul, her husband, was not in constant + communication with the spirit world, or that, if he wished, he could not + read the thoughts that moved slowly through her pretty head. + </p> + <p> + At the time of his marriage, the girl Vera, then a child of fourteen, had + written to Vance for help. She was ill, without money, and asked for work. + To him she was known as the last of a long line of people who had always + been professional mediums and spiritualists, and, out of charity and from + a sense of noblesse oblige to one of the elect of the profession, Vance + had made her his assistant. He had never regretted having done so. The + bread cast upon the waters was returned a thousandfold. From the first, + the girl brought in money. And his wife, the older of the two, had + welcomed her as a companion. After a fashion the Vances had adopted her. + In the advertisements she was described as their “ward.” + </p> + <p> + Vera now was twenty-one, tall, wonderfully graceful, and of the most + enchanting loveliness. Her education had been cosmopolitan. In the largest + cities of America she had met persons of every class—young women, + old women, mothers with married sons and daughters; women of society as it + is exploited in the Sunday supplements; school girls, shop girls, factory + girls—all had told her their troubles; and men of every condition + had come to scoff and had remained to express, more or less offensively, + their admiration. Some of the younger of these, after a first visit, + returned the day following, and each begged the beautiful priestess of the + occult to fly with him, to live with him, to marry him. When this happened + Vera would touch a button, and “Mannie” Day, who admitted visitors, and + later, in the hall, searched their hats and umbrellas for initials, came + on the run and threw the infatuated one out upon a cold and unfeeling + sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + So Vera had seen both the seamy side of life and, in the drawing rooms + where Vance and she exhibited their mind reading tricks, had been made + much of by great ladies and, for an hour as brief as Cinderella’s, had + looked upon a world of kind and well-bred people. Since she was fourteen, + for seven years, this had been her life—a life as open to the public + as the life of an actress, as easy of access as that of the stenographer + in the hotel lobby. As a result, the girl had encased herself in a + defensive armor of hardness and distrust, a protection which was rendered + futile by the loveliness of her face, by the softness of her voice, by the + deep, brooding eyes, and the fine forehead on which, like a crown, rested + the black waves of her hair. + </p> + <p> + In her work Vera accepted, without question, the parts to which Vance + assigned her. When in their mummeries they were successful, she neither + enjoyed the credulity of those they had tricked nor was sobered with + remorse. In the world Vance found a certain number of people with money + who demanded to be fooled. It was his business and hers to meet that + demand. If ever the conscience of either stirred restlessly, Vance soothed + it by the easy answer that if they did not take the money some one else + would. It was all in the day’s work. It was her profession. + </p> + <p> + As she entered the library of Mr. Hallowell, which, with Vance, she + already had visited several times, she looked like a child masquerading in + her mother’s finery. She suggested an ingenue who had been suddenly sent + on in the role of the Russian adventuress. Her slight girl’s figure was + draped in black lace. Her face was shaded by a large picture hat, heavy + with drooping ostrich feathers; around her shoulders was a necklace of + jade, and on her wrists many bracelets of silver gilt. When she moved they + rattled. As the girl advanced, smiling, to greet Mr. Hallowell, she + suddenly stopped, shivered slightly, and threw her right arm across her + eyes. Her left arm she stretched over the table. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand!” she commanded. Dubiously, with a watchful glance at + Vance, Mr. Hallowell leaned forward and took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You have been ill,” cried the girl; “very ill—I see you—I see + you in a kind of faint—very lately.” Her voice rose excitedly. “Yes, + last night.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell protested with indignation. “You read that in the morning + paper,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Vera lowered her arm from her eyes and turned them reproachfully on him. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t read the Despatch,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell drew back suspiciously. “I didn’t say it was the Despatch,” + he returned. + </p> + <p> + Vance quickly interposed. “You don’t have to say it,” he explained with + glibness; “you thought it. And Vera read your thoughts. You were thinking + of the Despatch, weren’t you? Well, there you are! It’s wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful? Nonsense!” mocked Mr. Hallowell. “She did read it in the paper + or Rainey told her.” + </p> + <p> + The girl shrugged her shoulders patiently. “If you would rather find out + you were ill from the newspapers than from the spirit world,” she + inquired, “why do you ask me here?” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you here, young woman,” exclaimed Hallowell, sinking back in his + chair, “because I hoped you would tell me something I can’t learn from the + newspapers. But you haven’t been able to do it yet. My dear young lady,” + exclaimed the old man wistfully, “I want to believe, but I must be + convinced. No tricks with me! I can explain how you might have found out + everything you have told me. Give me a sign!” He beat the flat of his hand + upon the table. “Show me something I can’t explain!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hallowell is quite right, Vera,” said Vance. “He is entering what is + to him a new world, full of mysteries, and that caution which in this + world has made him so successful—” + </p> + <p> + With an exclamation, Hallowell cut short the patter of the showman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he interrupted petulantly; “I tell you, I want to believe. + Convince me.” + </p> + <p> + Considering the situation with pursed lips and thoughtful eyes, Vera gazed + at the old man, frowning. Finally she asked, “Have you witnessed out demonstrations + of mind reading?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell snorted. “Certainly not,” he replied; “it’s a trick!” + </p> + <p> + “A trick!” cried the girl indignantly, “to read a man’s mind—to see + right through your forehead, through your skull, into your brain? Is that + a trick?” She turned sharply to Vance. “Show him!” she commanded; “show + him!” She crossed rapidly to the window and stood looking down into the + street, with her back to the room. + </p> + <p> + Vance, with his back turned to Vera, stood close to the table, on the + other side of which Hallowell was reclining in his arm chair. Vance picked + up a pen holder. + </p> + <p> + “Think of what I have in my hand, please,” he said. “What is this, Vera?” + he asked. The girl, gazing from the window at the traffic in the avenue + below her, answered with indifference, “A pen holder.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what about it?” snapped Vance. + </p> + <p> + “Gold pen holder,” Vera answered more rapidly. “Much engraving—initials + S. H.—Mr. Hallowell’s initials—” + </p> + <p> + “There is a date too. Can you—” + </p> + <p> + “December—” Vera hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” commanded Vance. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five, one, eight, eight, six; one thousand eight hundred and + eighty-six.” She moved her shoulders impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell him to think of something difficult,” she said. + </p> + <p> + From behind Mr. Hallowell’s chair Rainey signaled to Vance to take from + the table a photograph frame of silver which held the picture of a woman. + </p> + <p> + Vance picked it up, holding it close to him. + </p> + <p> + “What have I here, Vera?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Hallowell, seeing what Vance held in his hand, leaned forward. “Put that + down!” he commanded. But Vera had already begun to answer. + </p> + <p> + “A picture, a picture of a young woman. Ask him to think of who it is and + I will tell him.” + </p> + <p> + At the words Mr. Hallowell hesitated, frowned, and then nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It is his sister,” called Vera. “Her name was—I seem to get a + Catherine—yes, that’s it; Catherine Coates. She is no longer with + us. She passed into the spirit world three years ago.” The girl turned + suddenly and approached the table, holding her head high, as though + offended. + </p> + <p> + “How do you explain that trick?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell moved uneasily in his chair. “Oh, the picture’s been on my + desk each time you’ve been here,” he answered dubiously. “Rainey could + have told you.” + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact, I didn’t,” said Rainey. + </p> + <p> + Hallowell’s eyes lightened with interest. “Didn’t you?” he asked. He + turned to Vera. “If you can read my mind,” he challenged—“you,” he + added, pointing at Vance, “keep out of this now—tell me of what I am + thinking.” As Vance drew back, Rainey and himself exchanged a quick glance + of apprehension, but the girl promptly closed her eyes, and at once, in a + dull, measured tone, began to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You were thinking you would like to ask a question of some one in the + spirit,” she recited. “But you are afraid. You do not trust me. You will + wait until I give you a sign; then you will ask that question of some one + dear to you, who has passed beyond, and she will answer, and your troubles + will be at an end.” She opened her eyes and stared at Mr. Hallowell like + one coming out of a dream. “What did I say?” she asked. “Was I right?” + </p> + <p> + Hallowell slank back in his chair, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he began grudgingly, “but—” + </p> + <p> + With an eagerness hardly concealed, Vance interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “What is the question you wish to ask?” he begged. + </p> + <p> + With a frown of suspicion, Hallowell turned from him to Rainey. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I ought to let them know,” he questioned; “do you?” But his + attention was sharply diverted. + </p> + <p> + Vera, in a hushed and solemn voice, called for silence. + </p> + <p> + “My control,” she explained—her tone was deep and awestruck—“is + trying to communicate with me.” + </p> + <p> + Vance gave an exclamation of concern. The prospect of the phenomena Vera + promised seemed to fill him with delightful expectations. “Be very quiet,” + he cautioned, “do not disturb her.” + </p> + <p> + Deeply impressed, Mr. Hallowell struggled from his chair. Unaided, he + moved to below the table and leaning against it looked, with unwilling but + fascinated interest, at Vera’s uplifted face. + </p> + <p> + “Some one in the spirit,” Vera chanted, in an unemotional, drugged voice, + “wishes to speak to Mr. Hallowell. Give me your hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” directed Vance, “give her your hand. Take her hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is here,” Vera continued. “A woman has a message for you, she is + standing close beside you. She is holding out her arms. And she is trying, + so hard, to tell you something. What is it?” the girl questioned. “Oh, + what is it? Tell me,” she begged. “Can’t you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + Hallowell eyed her greedily, waiting almost without breathing for her + words. The hand with which he held hers crushed her rings into her + fingers. + </p> + <p> + “What sort?”—whispered the old man. “What sort of a woman?” + </p> + <p> + With eyes still closed, swaying slightly and with abrupt shudders running + down her body, the girl continued in dull, fateful tones. + </p> + <p> + “She is a fair woman; about forty-five. She is speaking. She calls to you, + Brother, brother.” Vera’s voice rose excitedly. “It is the woman in the + picture; your sister! Catherine! I see it written above her head—Catherine. + In letters of light.” She turned suddenly and fiercely. “Ask her your + question!” she commanded. “Ask her your question, now!” + </p> + <p> + By the sudden swaying forward of Vance and Rainey, in the intent look in + their eyes, it was evident that a crisis had approached. But Mr. + Hallowell, terrified and trembling, shrank back. His voice broke + hysterically. “No, no!” he pleaded. Both anger and disappointment showed + in the face of Vance and Rainey; but the girl, as though detached from any + human concerns, continued unmoved. “I see another figure,” she recited. “A + young girl, but she is of this world. I seem to get an H. Yes. Helen, in + letters of fire.” + </p> + <p> + “My niece, Helen!” Hallowell whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your niece,” chanted the girl. Her voice rose and thrilled. “And I + see much gold,” she cried. “Between the two women, heaps of gold. + Everywhere I look I see gold. And, now, the other woman, your sister, is + trying to speak to you. Listen! She calls to you, Brother!” + </p> + <p> + So centered was the interest of those in the room, so compelling the sound + of the girl’s voice, that, unnoticed, the sliding doors to the library + were slipped apart. Unobserved, Judge Gaylor and Winthrop halted in the + doorway. To the Judge the meaning of the scene was instantly apparent. His + face flushed furiously. Winthrop, uncomprehending, gazed unconcerned over + Gaylor’s shoulder. The voice of Vera rose hysterically to her climax. + </p> + <p> + “She bids me tell you,” Vera cried; “Tell my brother—” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor swept toward her. + </p> + <p> + “What damned farce is this?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the interruption was instant and startling. Mr. Hallowell, + who, in the last few minutes, had believed he was listening to a voice + from the dead, collapsed upon the shoulder of Rainey, who sprang to + support him. Like a somnambulist wrenched from sleep, Vera gave a scream + of fright, half genuine, half assumed, and swayed as though about to fall. + Vance caught her in his arms. He turned on Gaylor, his cunning red eyes + flashing evilly. + </p> + <p> + “You brute!” he cried, “you might have killed her.” + </p> + <p> + Between her sobs, Vera, her head upon the shoulder of Vance, whispered a + question. As quickly, under cover of muttered sympathy, Vance answered: + “Gaylor. The Judge.” + </p> + <p> + Still slightly swaying, Vera stood upright. She passed her hand vaguely + before her eyes. “Where am I?” she asked feebly. “Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor shook his fist at the girl. + </p> + <p> + “You know where you are!” he thundered; “and you know where you’re going—you’re + going to jail!” + </p> + <p> + In the hush that followed Vera drew herself to her full height. She + regarded Gaylor wonderingly, haughtily, as though he were some drunken + intruder from the street. + </p> + <p> + “Are you speaking to me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to you,” shouted the lawyer. “You’re an imposter, and a swindler, + and—and—” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop pushed between them. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and she’s a woman,” he said briskly. “If you want a row, talk to the + man.” + </p> + <p> + To this point the scene had brought to Vera no emotion save the excitement + that is felt by the one who is struggling to escape. The appearance of a + champion added a new interest. Through no fault of her own, she had + learned by experience that to the one man who annoyed her there always + were six to spring to her protection. So the glance she covertly turned + upon Winthrop was one less of gratitude than curiosity. + </p> + <p> + But at the first sight of him the girl started, her eyes lit with + recognition, her face flushed. And then, although the man was in no way + regarding her, her eyes filled, and in mortification and dismay she + blushed crimson. + </p> + <p> + His anger still unsatisfied, Gaylor turned upon Vance. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” he cried; “you’re going to jail too. I’ll drive—” + </p> + <p> + The voice of Mr. Hallowell, shaken with pain and distress, rose feebly, + beseechingly. “Henry!” he begged. “I can’t stand it!” + </p> + <p> + “Judge Gaylor!” thundered Rainey, “I won’t be responsible if you keep this + up.” + </p> + <p> + With an exclamation of remorse, Vera ran to the side of the old man. With + Rainey on his other hand, she raised him upright upon his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Lean on me,” begged the girl breathlessly. “I’m very strong. Lean on me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell shook his head. “No, child,” he protested, “not you.” He + turned to his old friend. “You help me, Henry,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + With the authority of the medical man, Rainey waved Vance into the + bedroom. “Close those windows,” he ordered. “You help me!” he commanded of + Gaylor. “Put your arm under him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell, protesting feebly and leaning heavily upon the two men, + stumbled into the bedroom, and the door was shut behind him. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the girl and the man stood in silence, and then, as though + suddenly conscious of her presence, Winthrop turned and smiled. + </p> + <p> + The girl did not answer his smile. From under the shadow of the picture + hat and the ostrich feathers her eyes regarded him searchingly, + watchfully. + </p> + <p> + For the first time, Winthrop had the chance to observe her. He saw that + she was very young, that her clothes cruelly disguised her, that she was + only a child masquerading as a brigand, that her face was distractingly + lovely. Having noted this, the fact that she had driven several grown men + to abuse and vituperation struck him as being extremely humorous; nor did + he try to conceal his amusement. But the watchfulness in the eyes of the + girl did not relax. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I interfered with your seance,” said the District Attorney. + </p> + <p> + The girl regarded him warily, like a fencer fixing her eyes on those of + her opponent. There was a pause which lasted so long that had the silence + continued it would have been rude. “Well,” the girl returned at last, + timidly, “that’s what the city expects you to do, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop laughed. “How did you know who I was?” he asked, and then added + quickly, “Of course, you’re a mind reader.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time the girl smiled. Winthrop found it a charming smile, + wistful and confiding. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t have to ask the spirit world,” she said, “to tell me who is + District Attorney of New York.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the District Attorney; “yes, I suppose you have to be pretty + well acquainted with some of the laws—those about mediums?” + </p> + <p> + “If you knew as much about other laws,” began Vera, “as I do about the law—” + She broke off and again smiled upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Then you probably know,” said Winthrop, “that what our excited friend + said to you just now is legally quite true?” + </p> + <p> + The smile passed from the face of the girl. She looked at the young man + with fine disdain, as a great lady might reprove with a glance the man who + snapped a camera at her. “Yes?” she asked. “Well, what are you going to do + about it—arrest me?” Mocking him, in a burlesque of melodrama, she + held out her arms. “Don’t put the handcuffs on me,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop found her impudence amusing; and, with the charm of her novelty, + he was conscious of a growing conviction that, somewhere, they had met + before; that already at a crisis she had come into his life. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t arrest you,” he said with a puzzled smile, “on one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” mocked Vera; “he is generous.” + </p> + <p> + “And the condition is,” Winthrop went on seriously, “that you tell me + where we met before?” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s expression became instantly mask-like. To learn if he suspected + where it was that they had met, she searched his face quickly. She was + reassured that of the event he had no real recollection. + </p> + <p> + “That’s rather difficult, isn’t it,” she continued lightly, “when you + consider I’ve been giving exhibitions of mind readings for the last six + weeks on Broadway, and in the homes of people you probably know?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Winthrop exclaimed eagerly, “it wasn’t in a theatre, and it wasn’t + in a private house. It was—” he shook his head helplessly, and + looked at her for assistance. “You don’t know, do you?” + </p> + <p> + The girl regarded him steadily. “How should I?” she said. And then, as + though decided upon a course of action of the wisdom of which she was + uncertain, she laughed uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “But the spirits would know,” she said. “I might ask them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do!” cried Winthrop, delightedly. “How much would that be?” + </p> + <p> + As though to reprove his flippancy, the girl frowned. With a nervous + tremor, which this time seemed genuine enough, she threw back her head, + closed her eyes, and laid her arm across her forehead. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop, unobserved, watched her with a smile, partly of amusement, + partly on account of her beauty, of admiration. + </p> + <p> + “I see—a court room,” said the girl. “It is very mean and bare. It + is somewhere up the State; in a small town. Outside, there are trees, and + the sun is shining, and people are walking in a public park. Inside, in + the prisoner’s dock, there is a girl. She has been arrested—for + theft. She has pleaded guilty! And I see—that she has been very ill—that + she is faint from shame—and fear—and lack of food. And there + is a young lawyer. He is defending her; he is asking the judge to be + merciful, because this is her first offence, because she stole the cloak + to get money to take her where she had been promised work. Because this is + his first case.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop gave a gasp of disbelief. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to tell me—” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” commanded the girl. “And he persuades the judge to let her go,” + she continued quickly, her voice shaking, “and he and the girl walk out of + the court house together. And he talks to her kindly, and gives her money + to pay her way to the people who have promised her work.” + </p> + <p> + Vera dropped her arm, and stepping back, faced Winthrop. Through her tears + her eyes were flashing proudly, gratefully; the feeling that shook her + made her voice vibrate. The girl seemed proud of her tears, proud of her + debt of gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “And I’ve never forgotten you,” she said, her voice eager and trembling, + “and what you did for me. And I’ve watched you come to this city, and + fight it, and fight it, until you made them put you where you are.” She + stopped to control her voice, and smiled at him. “And that’s why I knew + you were District Attorney,” she said; “and please—” she fumbled in + the mesh purse at her waist and taking a bill from it, threw it upon the + table. “And please, there’s the money I owe you, and—and—I + thank you—and goodbye.” She turned and almost ran from him toward + the door to the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + Poised for flight, the girl halted, and looked back. + </p> + <p> + “When can I see you again?” said the man. The tone made it less a question + than a command. + </p> + <p> + In a manner as determined as his own, the girl shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I must!” returned the man. + </p> + <p> + Again the girl shook her head, definitely, finally. + </p> + <p> + “It won’t help you in your work,” she pleaded, “to come to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “I must!” repeated Winthrop simply. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the girl met his, appealingly, defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be sorry,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop laughed an eager, boyish laugh. When he spoke the tenseness in + his voice had gone. His tone was confident, bantering. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will not come to see you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Uncertain, puzzled, Vera looked at him in distress. She thought he was + mocking her. + </p> + <p> + “No?” she questioned. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll come to see Vera, the medium,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + Vera frowned, and then, in happy embarrassment, smiled wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” she stammered; “of course, if you’re coming to consult me + professionally—my hours are from four to six.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be there,” cried the District Attorney. + </p> + <p> + Vera leaned forward eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “What day will you come?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “What day!” exclaimed the young man indignantly. “Why, this day!” + </p> + <p> + Vera gave a guilty, frightened laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, will you?” she exclaimed delightedly. She clasped her fingers in a + gesture of dismay. “Oh, I hope you won’t be sorry!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + For some moments the District Attorney of New York stood looking at the + door through which she had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Part II + </h2> + <p> + The home of the Vances was in Thirty-fifth Street, nearly opposite the + Garrick Theatre. It was one of a row of old-fashioned brick houses with + high steps. As the seeker after truth entered the front hall, he saw + before him the stairs to the second story; on his right, the folding doors + of the “front parlor,” and at the far end of the hall, a single door that + led to what was, in the old days, before this row of houses had been + converted into offices, the family dining room. To Vera the Vances had + given the use of this room as a “reception parlor.” The visitor first + entered the room on his right, from it passed through another pair of + folding doors to the reception parlor, and then, when his audience was at + an end, departed by the single door to the hall, and so, to the street. + </p> + <p> + The reception parlor bore but little likeness to a cave of mystery. There + were no shaded lights, no stuffed alligator, no Indian draperies, no black + cat. On a table, in the centre, under a heavy and hideous chandelier with + bronze gas jets, was a green velvet cushion. On this nestled an innocent + ball of crystal. Beside it lay the ivory knitting needle with which Vera + pointed out, in the hand of the visitor, those lines that showed he would + be twice married, was of an ambitious temperament, and would make a + success upon the stage. In a corner stood a wooden cabinet that resembled + a sentry box on wheels. It was from this, on certain evenings, before a + select circle of spiritualists, that Vera projected the ghosts of the + departed. Hanging inside the cabinet was a silver-gilt crown and a cloak + of black velvet, lined with purple silk and covered in gold thread with + signs of the zodiac. + </p> + <p> + Save that these stage properties illustrated the taste of Mabel Vance, the + room was of no interest. It held a rubber plant, a red velvet rocking + chair, across the back of which Mrs. Vance had draped a Neapolitan scarf; + an upright piano, upon which Emmanuel Day, or, as he was known to the + cross-roads of Broadway and Forty-second street, “Mannie” Day, provoked + the most marvelous rag-time, an enlarged photograph in crayon, of + Professor Vance, in a frock coat and lawn tie, a china bull dog, + coquettishly decorated with a blue bow, and, on the mantel piece, two tall + beer steins and a hand telephone. From the long windows one obtained a + view of the iron shutters of the new department store in Thirty-fourth + Street, and of a garden, just large enough to contain a sumach tree, a + refrigerator, and the packing-case in which the piano had arrived. + </p> + <p> + After leaving Winthrop, without waiting for Vance, Vera had returned + directly to the house in Thirty-fifth Street, and locked herself in her + room. And although “Mannie” Day had already ushered two visitors into the + front room, Vera had not yet come downstairs. In consequence, Mabel Vance + was in possession of the reception parlor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vance was plump, pink-and-blonde, credulous and vulgar, but at all + times of the utmost good humor. Her admiration for Vera was equaled only + by her awe of her. On this particular afternoon, although it already was + after five o’clock, Mrs. Vance still wore a short dressing sack, open at + the throat, and heavy with somewhat soiled lace. But her blonde hair was + freshly “marcelled,” and her nails pink and shining. In the absence of + Vera, she was making a surreptitious and guilty use of the telephone. From + the fact that in her left hand she held the morning telegraph open at the + “previous performances” of the horses, and that the page had been cruelly + lacerated by a hat pin, it was fair to suppose that whoever was at the + other end of the wire, was tempting her with the closing odds at the + races. + </p> + <p> + In her speculations, she was interrupted by “Mannie” Day, who entered + softy through the door from the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Mannie” Day was a youth of twenty-four. It was his heart’s desire to be a + “Broadwayard.” He wanted to know all of those, and to be known only by + those, who moved between the giant pillars that New York threw into the + sky to mark her progress North. + </p> + <p> + He knew the soiled White Way as the oldest inhabitant knows the single + street of the village. He knew it from the Rathskellers underground, to + the roof gardens in the sky; in his firmament the stars were the electric + advertisements over Long Acre Square, his mother earth was asphalt, the + breath of his nostrils gasolene, the telegraph was his Bible. His grief + was that no one in the Tenderloin would take him seriously; would believe + him wicked, wise, predatory. They might love him, they might laugh with + him, they might clamor for his company, in no flat that could boast a + piano, was he not, on his entrance, greeted with a shout; but the real + Knights of the Highway treated him always as the questioning, wide-eyed + child. In spite of his after-midnight pallor, in spite of his honorable + scars of dissipation, it was his misfortune to be cursed with a smile that + was a perpetual plea of “not guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you expect?” an outspoken friend, who made a living as a + wireless wire tapper, had once pointed out to him. “That smile of yours + could open a safe. It could make a show girl give up money! It’s an alibi + for everything from overspeeding to murder.” + </p> + <p> + Mannie, as he listened, flushed with mortification. From that moment he + determined that his life should be devoted to giving the lie to that + smile, to that outward and visible sign of kindness, good will, and innate + innocence. As yet, he had not succeeded. + </p> + <p> + He interrupted Mabel at the telephone to inquire the whereabouts of Vera. + “There’s two girls in there, now,” he said, “waiting to have their + fortunes doped.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’em wait!” exclaimed Mabel. “Vera’s upstairs dressing.” In her eyes + was the baleful glare of the plunger. “What was that you give me in the + third race?” + </p> + <p> + At the first touch of the ruling passion, what interest Mannie may have + felt for the impatient visitors vanished. “Not in the third,” he corrected + briskly. “Keene entry win the third.” + </p> + <p> + Mabel appealed breathlessly to the telephone. “What price the Keene entry + in the third?” She turned to Mannie with reproachful eyes. “Even money!” + she complained. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I told you,” retorted Mannie. He lowered his voice, and gazed + apprehensively toward the front parlor. “If you want a really good thing,” + he whispered hoarsely, “ask Joe what Pompadour is in the fifth!” Mabel + laughed scornfully, disappointedly. + </p> + <p> + “Pompadour!” she mocked. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right!” cried the expert. “That’s the one daily hint from Paris + today. Joe will give you thirty to one.” + </p> + <p> + Upon the defenseless woman he turned the full force of his accursed smile. + “Put five on for me, Mabel?” he begged. + </p> + <p> + With unexpected determination of character Mabel declared sharply that she + would do nothing of the sort. + </p> + <p> + “Two, then?” entreated the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Where,” demanded Mabel unfeelingly, “is the twenty you owe me now?” + </p> + <p> + The abruptness of this unsportsmanlike blow below the belt caused Mannie + to wince. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know where it is?” he protested. “As long as you haven’t got it, + why do you care where it is?” He heard the door from the hall open and, + turning, saw Vera. He appealed to her. “Vera,” he cried, “You’ll loan me + two dollars? I stand to win sixty. I’ll give you thirty.” + </p> + <p> + Vera looked inquiringly at Mabel. “What is it, Mabel,” she asked, “a hand + book?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vance nodded guiltily. + </p> + <p> + “Mannie!” exclaimed Vera gently but reproachfully, “I told you I wouldn’t + loan you any more money till you paid Mabel what you’ve borrowed.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I pay Mabel what I borrowed,” demanded Mannie, “if I can’t borrow + the money from you to pay her? Only two dollars, Vera!” + </p> + <p> + Vera nodded to Mabel. + </p> + <p> + Mabel, at the phone, called, “Two dollars on Pompadour—to—win—for + Mannie Day,” and rang off. + </p> + <p> + “That makes thirty for you,” exclaimed Mannie enthusiastically, “and + twenty I owe to Mabel, and that leaves me ten.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vance, no longer occupied in the whirlpool of speculation, for the + first time observed that Vera had changed her matronly robe of black lace + for a short white skirt and a white shirtwaist. She noted also that there + was a change in Vera’s face and manner. She gave an impression of nervous + eagerness, of unrest. Her smile seemed more appealing, wistful, girlish. + She looked like a child of fourteen. + </p> + <p> + But Mabel was concerned more especially with the robe of virgin white. + </p> + <p> + For the month, which was July, the costume was appropriate, but, in the + opinion of Mabel, in no way suited to the priestess of the occult and the + mysterious. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Vera!” exclaimed Mrs. Vance, “whatever have you got on? Ain’t you + going to receive visitors? There’s ten dollars waiting in there now.” + </p> + <p> + In sudden apprehension, Vera looked down at her spotless garments. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I look nice?” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you look nice, dearie,” Mabel assured her, “but you don’t look + like no fortune teller.” + </p> + <p> + “If you want to know what you look like,” said Mannie sternly, “you look + like one of the waiter girls at Childs’s—that’s what you look like.” + </p> + <p> + “And your crown!” exclaimed Mabel, “and your kimono. Ain’t you going to + wear your kimono?” + </p> + <p> + She hastened to the cabinet and produced the cloak of black velvet and + spangles, and the silver-gilt crown. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not!” declared Vera. She wore the frightened look of a mutinous + child. “I—I look so—foolish in them!” + </p> + <p> + Such heresy caused Mannie to gasp aloud; “You look grand in them,” he + protested; “don’t she, Mabel?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure she does,” assented that lady. + </p> + <p> + “And your junk?” demanded Mannie, referring to the jade necklace and the + gold-plated bracelets. His eyes opened in sympathy. “You haven’t pawned + them, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Pawned them?” laughed Vera; “I couldn’t get anything on them!” As the + only masculine point of view available, she appealed to Mannie wistfully. + “Don’t you like me better this way, Mannie?” she begged. + </p> + <p> + But that critic protested violently. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit like it,” he cried. “Now, in the gold tiara and the spangled + opera cloak,” he differentiated, “you look like a picture postal card! You + got Lotta Faust’s blue skirt back to Levey’s. But not in the white goods!” + He shook his head sadly, firmly. “You look, now, like you was made up for + a May-day picnic in the Bronx, and they’d picked on you to be Queen of the + May.” + </p> + <p> + Mabel carried the much-admired opera cloak to Vera, and held it out, + tempting her. “You’ll wear it, just to please me and Mannie, won’t you, + dearie?” she begged. Vera retreated before it as though it held the germs + of contagion. + </p> + <p> + “I will not,” she rebelled. “I hate it! When I have that on, I feel—mean. + I feel as mean as though I were picking pennies out of a blind man’s hat.” + Mannie roared with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” he shouted, “but that’s a hot one.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Vera consciously, “I’m—I’m expecting some one.” + </p> + <p> + The manner more than the words thrilled Mabel with the most joyful + expectations. + </p> + <p> + She exclaimed excitedly. “A gentleman friend, Vera?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + That Vera shunned all young men had been to Mabel a source of wonder and + of pride. Even when the young men were the friends of her husband and of + herself, the preoccupied manner with which Vera received them did not + provoke in Mabel any resentment. It rather increased her approbation. + Although horrified at the recklessness of the girl, she had approved even + when Vera rejected an offer of marriage from a wine agent. + </p> + <p> + Secretly, for a proper alliance for her, Mabel read the society columns in + search of eligible, rich young men. Finding that they invariably married + eligible, rich young women, she had lately determined that Vera’s destiny + must be an English duke. + </p> + <p> + Still if, as she hoped, Vera had chosen for herself, Mabel felt assured + that the man would prove worthy, and a good match. A good match meant one + who owned not only a runabout, but a touring car. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a man from home,” said Vera. “Home?” queried Mannie. + </p> + <p> + “From up the State,” explained Vera, “from Geneva. It’s—Mr. + Winthrop.” + </p> + <p> + With an exclamation of alarm, Mannie started upright. “Winthrop!” he + cried; then with a laugh of relief he sank back. “Gee! You give me a + scare,” he cried. “I thought you meant the District Attorney.” + </p> + <p> + Mabel laughed sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so too,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “I do mean the District Attorney,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Vera!” cried Mabel. + </p> + <p> + “Winthrop—coming here?” demanded Mannie. + </p> + <p> + “I met him at Mr. Hallowell’s this morning,” said Vera. “Didn’t Paul tell + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Paul ain’t back yet,” said Mannie. “I wish he was!” His lower jaw dropped + in dazed bewilderment. “Winthrop—coming here?” he repeated. “And + they’re all coming here!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Paul just phoned me. + They’ve taken Gaylor in with them, and we’re all working together now on + some game for tonight. And Winthrop’s coming here!” He shook his head + decidedly, importantly. As the only man of the family present, he felt he + must meet this crisis. “Paul won’t stand for it!” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Paul will just have to stand for it!” retorted Mrs. Vance. + </p> + <p> + With a murmur of sympathy she crossed to Vera. “I’m not going to see our + Vera disappointed,” she announced. “She never sees no company. Vera, if + Mr. Winthrop comes when that bunch is here, I’ll show him into the front + parlor.” + </p> + <p> + Vera sat down in front of the piano and let her fingers drop upon the + keys. The look of eagerness and anticipation had left her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “that I want to see him—now.” + </p> + <p> + With complete misunderstanding, Mannie demanded truculently, “Why not?” + His loyalty to Vera gave him courage, in her behalf, to face even a + District Attorney. “He doesn’t think he’s coming here to make trouble for + you, does he?” + </p> + <p> + Vera shook her head and, bending over the piano, struck a few detached + chords. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she said consciously; “just to see me—professionally—like + everybody else.” + </p> + <p> + Mabel could no longer withhold her indignation at the obtuseness of the + masculine intellect. + </p> + <p> + “My gracious, Mannie!” she exclaimed, “can’t you understand he’s coming + here to make a call on Vera—like a gentleman—not like no + District Attorney.” + </p> + <p> + Mannie precipitately retreated from his position as champion. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I understand,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + With the joy that a match-making mother takes in the hunt, Mabel sank into + the plush rocking chair and, rocking violently, turned upon Vera an eager + and excited smile. + </p> + <p> + “Think of our Vera knowing Mr. Winthrop socially?” she exclaimed. “It’s + grand! And they say his sisters are elegant ladies. Last winter I read + about them at the opera, and it always printed what they had on. Why + didn’t you tell me you knowed him, Vera?” she cried reproachfully. “I tell + you everything!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know him,” protested the girl. “I used to see him when he lived + in the same town.” + </p> + <p> + Mabel, inviting further confidences, ceased rocking and nodded + encouragingly. “Up in Geneva?” she prompted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Vera, “I used to see him every afternoon then, when he played + ball on the college nine—” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” demanded Mannie incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Winthrop,” said Vera. + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” exclaimed Mannie. His tone suggested that he might still be + persuaded that there was good in the man. + </p> + <p> + “What’d he play?” he demanded suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “First,” said Vera. + </p> + <p> + “Did he!” exclaimed Mannie. His tone now was of open approbation. + </p> + <p> + Vera had raised her eyes and turned them toward the windows. Beyond the + soot-stained sumach tree, the fire escapes of the department store, she + saw the sun-drenched campus, the buttressed chapel, the ancient, drooping + elms; and on a canvas bag, poised like a winged Mercury, a tall straight + figure in gray, dusty flannels. + </p> + <p> + “He was awfully good-looking,” murmured the girl, “and awfully tall. He + could stop a ball as high as—that!” She raised her arm in the air, + and then, suddenly conscious, flushed, and turned to the piano. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, tell us,” urged Mabel. “So you first met him in Geneva, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” corrected Vera, “saw him there. I—only met him once.” + </p> + <p> + Mannie interrupted hilariously. + </p> + <p> + “I only saw him once, too,” he cried, “that was enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + Vera swiftly spun the piano stool so that she faced him. Her eyes were + filled with concern. + </p> + <p> + “You, Mannie!” she demanded anxiously. “What had you done?” + </p> + <p> + “Done!” exclaimed Mannie indignantly, “nothing! What’d you think I’d done? + Did you think I was a crook?” + </p> + <p> + Vera bowed her shoulders and shivered as though the boy had cursed at her. + She shook her head vehemently and again swung back to the piano. Stumbling + awkwardly, her fingers ran over the keys in a swift clatter of broken + chords. “No,” she whispered, “no, Mannie, no.” + </p> + <p> + With a laugh of delighted recollection, Mannie turned to Mabel. + </p> + <p> + “He raided a poolroom I was working at,” he explained. “He picked me out + as a sheet writer because I had my coat off, see? I told him I had it off + because it was too hot for me, and he says, Young man, if you lie to me, + I’ll make I a damn sight hotter!” Mannie threw back his head and shouted + uproariously. “He’s all right, Winthrop!” he declared. + </p> + <p> + Mabel, having already married Winthrop to Vera in Grace Church, with + herself in the front pew, in a blue silk dress, received this unexpected + evidence of his rare wit with delight. In ecstasy of appreciation she + slapped her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Did he say that, Mannie?” she cried. “Wasn’t that quick of him! Did you + hear what he said to Mannie, Vera?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + Their mirth was interrupted by the opening and closing of the front door + and, in the hall, the murmur of men’s voices. + </p> + <p> + Vance opened the door from the hall and entered, followed by Judge Gaylor + and Rainey. With evident pride in her appearance, Vance introduced the two + men to his wife, and then sent her and Mannie from the room—the + latter with orders to dismiss the visitors in the front parlor and to + admit no others. + </p> + <p> + At the door Mrs. Vance turned to Vera and nodded mysteriously. + </p> + <p> + “If that party calls,” she said with significance, “I’ll put him in the + front parlor.” With a look of dismay, Vera vehemently shook her head but, + to forestall any opposition, Mrs. Vance hastily slammed the door behind + her. + </p> + <p> + In his most courteous manner Judge Gaylor offered the chair at the head of + the centre table to Vera, and at the same table seated himself. Vance took + a place on the piano stool; Rainey stood with his back to the mantel + piece. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vera,” Gaylor began impressively, “I desire to apologize for my + language this morning. As Rainey no doubt has told you, I have opposed you + and Professor Vance. But I—I know when I’m beaten. Your influence + with Mr. Hallowell today—is greater than mine. It is paramount. I + congratulate you.” He smiled ingratiatingly. “And now,” he added, “we are + all working in unison.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve given up your idea of sending me to jail,” said Vera. + </p> + <p> + “Vera!” exclaimed Vance reprovingly. “Judge Gaylor has apologized. We’re + all in harmony now.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that door locked?” asked Gaylor. Vance told him, save Mrs. Vance, + Mannie, and themselves, there was none in the house; and that he might + speak freely. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vera,” began the Judge, “we left Mr. Hallowell very much impressed + with the message you gave him this morning. The message from his dead + sister. He wants another message from her. He wants her to decide how he + shall dispose of a very large sum of money—his entire fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “His entire fortune!” exclaimed Vera. “Do you imagine,” she asked, “that + Mr. Hallowell will take advice from the spirit world about that? I don’t!” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” Gaylor answered stoutly, “I know I would.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” asked Vera incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “If I could believe my sister came from the dead to tell me what to do,” + said the lawyer, “of course, I’d do it. I’d be afraid not to. But I don’t + believe he does. And he believes you can bring his sister herself before + him. He insists that tonight you hold a seance in his house, and that you + materialize the spirit of his dead sister. So that he can see his sister, + and talk with his sister. Vance says you can do that. Can you?” + </p> + <p> + From Vera’s face the look of girlishness, of happy anticipation, had + already disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “It is my business to do that,” the girl answered. She turned to Vance + and, in a matter-of-fact voice, inquired, “What does his sister look like—that + photograph we used this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Vance answered. “I’ve a better one, Rainey gave me. Taken when she + was older. Has white hair and a cap and a kerchief crossed—so.” He + drew his hands across his shoulders. “Rainey, show Miss Vera that + picture.” + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” Gaylor commanded. “The important thing now is that Miss Vera + understands the message Mr. Hallowell is to receive from his sister.” + </p> + <p> + The two other men nodded quickly in assent. Gaylor turned to Vera. He + spoke slowly, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vera,” he said, “Mr. Hallowell’s present will leaves his fortune to + his niece. He has made another will, which he has not signed, leaving his + fortune to the Hallowell Institute. He will ask his sister to which of + these he should leave his money. You will tell him—” he corrected + himself instantly. “She will tell him to give it where it will be of the + greatest good to the most people—to the Institute.” There was a + pause. “Do you understand?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To the Institute. Not to the niece,” Vera answered. Gaylor nodded + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “What,” asked Vera, “are the fewest words in which that message could be + delivered? I mean—should she say, You are to endow the Hallowell + Institute, or Brother, you are to give—Sign the new will?” With + satisfaction the girl gave a sharp shake of her head, and nodded to Vance. + “Destroy the old will. Sign the new will. That is the best,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it exactly,” Gaylor exclaimed eagerly; “that’s excellent!” Then + his face clouded. “I think,” he said in a troubled voice, “we should warn + Miss Vera, that to guard himself from any trickery, Mr. Hallowell insists + on subjecting her to the most severe tests. He—” + </p> + <p> + “That will be all right,” said the girl. She turned to Vance and, in a + lower tone but without interest, asked: “What, for instance?” Vance merely + laughed and shrugged his shoulders. The girl smiled. Nettled, and alarmed + at what appeared to be their overconfidence, Gaylor objected warmly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all very well,” he cried, “but for instance, he insists that the + entire time you are in the cabinet, you hold a handful of flour in one + hand and of shot in the other”—he illustrated with clenched fists—“which + makes it impossible,” he protested, “for you to use your hands.” + </p> + <p> + The face of the girl showed complete indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But you are to be tied hand and foot,” cried the Judge. “And on top of + that,” he burst forth indignantly, pointing aggrievedly at Vance, “he + himself proposed this flour-and-shot test. It was silly, senseless + bravado!” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” repeated the girl. “He knew that I invented it.” Rainey + laughed. Gaylor gave an exclamation of enlightenment. + </p> + <p> + “If it will be of any comfort to you, Judge,” said Vance, “I’ll tell you + one thing; every test that ever was put to a medium—was invented by + a medium.” + </p> + <p> + Vera rose. “If there is nothing more,” she said, “I will go and get the + things ready for this evening. Destroy the old will. Sign the new will.” + she repeated. She turned suddenly to Vance, her brow drawn in + consideration. “I suppose by this new will,” she asked, “the girl gets + nothing?” “Not at all!” exclaimed Gaylor emphatically. “We don’t want her + to fight the will. She gets a million.” + </p> + <p> + “A million dollars?” demanded Vera. For an instant, as though trying to + grasp the possibilities of such a sum, she stood staring ahead of her. + With doubt in her eyes, and shaking her head, she turned to Vance. + </p> + <p> + “How can one woman spend a million dollars?” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, we don’t intend to starve her,” exclaimed Gaylor eagerly, + “and at the same time the Institute will be benefiting all humanity. Doing + good to—” + </p> + <p> + Vera interrupted him with a sharp, peremptory movement of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “We won’t go into that, please,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + The Judge inclined his head. “I only meant to point out,” he said stiffly, + “that you are giving Mr. Hallowell the best advice, and doing great good.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the girl looked at him steadily. On her lips was a faint + smile of disdain, but whether for him or for herself, the Judge could not + determine. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that,” the girl said finally. “I don’t ask.” She turned to + Rainey. “Have you that photograph?” He gave her a photograph and after, + for an instant, studying it in silence, she returned it to him. + </p> + <p> + “It will be quite easy,” she said to Vance. She walked to the door, and + instinctively the two men, who were seated, rose. + </p> + <p> + “I will see you tonight at Mr. Hallowell’s,” she said, and, with a nod, + left them. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” exclaimed Rainey, “you didn’t tell her!” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” Vance answered. “I decided we’d be wiser to take advice from my + wife. She understands Vera better than I do.” He opened the door to the + hall, and called “Mannie! Tell Mabel—Oh, Mabel,” he corrected, “come + here a minute.” He returned to his seat on the piano stool. “She can tell + us,” he said. + </p> + <p> + In expectation of the arrival of Winthrop, Mrs. Vance had arrayed herself + in a light blue frock, and, as though she had just come in from the + street, in such a hat as she considered would do credit not only to Vera + but to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Mabel,” her husband began, “we’re up against a hard proposition. + Hallowell insists that Winthrop and Miss Coates must come to the seance + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “Winthrop and Miss Coates!” cried Mabel. In astonishment she glanced from + her husband to Rainey and Gaylor. “Then, it’s all off!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I say,” growled Rainey. + </p> + <p> + “We want you to tell us,” continued Vance, unmoved, “whether Vera should + know that now, or wait until tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Paul Vance!” almost shrieked his wife, “do you mean to tell me you’re + thinking of giving a materialization in front of the District Attorney! + You’re crazy!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I tell them,” chorused Rainey. + </p> + <p> + Gaylor raised his hand for silence. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mrs. Vance,” he said wearily. “We are not crazy, but,” he added + bitterly, “we can’t help ourselves. You mediums have got Mr. Hallowell in + such a state that he’ll only do what his sister’s spirit tells him. He + says, if he’s robbing his niece, his sister will tell him so; if he’s to + give the money to the Institute, his sister will tell him that. He says, + if Vance is fair and above-board, he shouldn’t be afraid to have his niece + and any friends of hers present. We can’t help ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “I helped a little,” said Vance, “by insisting on having our own friends + there—told him the spirit could not materialize unless there were + believers present.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he stand for that?” asked Mabel. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to have them,” her husband assured her. “They like to think there + are others as foolish as they are. And I’m going to place Mr. District + Attorney,” he broke out suddenly and fiercely, “between two mediums. + They’ll hold his hands!” + </p> + <p> + Already frightened by the possible result of the plot, Rainey, with a + vehemence born of fear, retorted sharply: “Hold his hands! How’re you + going to make him hold his tongue, afterward?” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor turned upon him savagely. + </p> + <p> + “My God, man!” he cried, “we’re not trying to persuade the District + Attorney that he’s seen a ghost. If your friends can persuade Stephen + Hallowell that he’s seen one, the District Attorney can go to the devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he won’t!” returned Rainey, “he’ll go to law!” + </p> + <p> + “Let him!” cried Gaylor defiantly. “Get Hallowell to sign that will, and + I’ll go into court with him.” + </p> + <p> + His bravado was suddenly attacked from an unexpected source. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll go into court with him, all right,” declared Mrs. Vance, “all of + you! And if you don’t want him to catch you,” she cried, “you’ll clear + out, now! He’s coming here any minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s coming here?” demanded her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Winthrop,” returned his wife, “to see Vera.” + </p> + <p> + “To see Vera!” cried Vance eagerly. “What about? About this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” protested Mabel, “to call on her. He’s an old friend—” + </p> + <p> + In alarm Rainey pushed into the group of now thoroughly excited people. + “Don’t you believe it!” he cried. “If he’s coming here, he’s coming to + give her the third degree—” + </p> + <p> + The door from the hall suddenly opened, was as suddenly closed, and Mannie + slipped into the room. One hand he held up for silence; with the other he + pointed at the folding doors. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he warned them. “He’s in there! He says he’s come to call on Vera. + She says he’s come professionally, and I must bring him in here. I’ve shut + the door into the parlor, and you can slip upstairs without his seeing + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Upstairs!” gasped Rainey, “not for me!” He appealed to Gaylor in accents + of real alarm. “We must get away from this house,” he declared. “If he + finds us here—” With a gesture of dismay he tossed his hands in the + air. Gaylor nodded. In silence all, save Mannie, moved into the hall, and + halted between the outer and inner doors of the vestibule. Gaylor turned + to Vance. “Are you going to tell her,” he asked, “that he is to be there + tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll tell her himself, now!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” corrected Rainey, “he doesn’t know yet there’s to be a seance. + Hallowell was writing the note when he left.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” instructed Gaylor, “do not let her know until she arrives—until + it will be too late for her to back out.” + </p> + <p> + Vance nodded and, waiting until from the back room he heard the voices of + Mannie and Winthrop, he opened the front door and the two men ran down the + steps into the street. + </p> + <p> + While the conspirators were hidden in the vestibule, Mannie had opened the + folding doors, and invited Winthrop to enter the reception parlor. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vera will be down in a minute,” he said. “If you want your hand + read,” he added, pointing, “you sit over there.” + </p> + <p> + As Winthrop approached the centre table, Mannie backed against the piano. + The presence of the District Attorney at such short range aroused in him + many emotions. Alternately he was torn with alarm, with admiration, with + curiosity. He regarded him apprehensively, with a nervous and unhappy + smile. + </p> + <p> + About the smile there was something that Winthrop found familiar, and, + with one almost as attractive, he answered it. + </p> + <p> + “I think we’ve met before, haven’t we?” he asked pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + Mannie nodded. “Yes, sir,” he answered promptly. “At Sam Hepner’s old + place, on West Forty-fourth street.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course!” exclaimed the District Attorney. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you—don’t you remember?” stammered Mannie eagerly. He was + deeply concerned lest the distinguished cross-examiner should think, that + from him of his lurid past he could withhold anything. “I had my coat off—and + you said you’d make it hot for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” asked Winthrop with an effort at recollection. + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn’t!” Mannie hastened to reassure him. “I mean, you didn’t + make it hot for me.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop laughed, and seated himself comfortably beside the centre table. + “Well I’m glad of that,” he said. “So our relations are still pleasant, + then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” exclaimed Mannie heartily. “I mean—yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop mechanically reached for his cigarette case, and then, + recollecting, withdrew his hand. + </p> + <p> + “And how are the ponies running?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The interview was filling Mannie with excitement and delight. He chuckled + with pleasure. His fear of the great man was rapidly departing. Could + this, he asked himself, be the “terror to evil-doers,” the man whose cruel + questions drove witnesses to tears, whose “third degree” sent veterans of + the underworld staggering from his confessional box, limp and gasping? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pretty well,” said the boy, “seems as if I couldn’t keep away from + them. I got a good thing for today—Pompadour—in the fifth. I + put all the money on her I could get together,” he announced importantly, + and then added frankly, with a laugh, “two dollars!” The laugh was + contagious, and the District Attorney laughed with him. + </p> + <p> + “Pompadour,” Winthrop objected, “she’s one of those winter track + favorites.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but today,” declared Mannie, “she win, sure!” Carried away by his + enthusiasm, and by the sympathy of his audience, he rushed, unheeding, to + his fate. “If you’d like to put a little on,” he said, “I can tell you + where you can do it.” + </p> + <p> + The District Attorney stared and laughed. “You mustn’t tell me where you + can do it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mannie gave a terrified gasp and, for an instant, clapped his hands over + his lips. “That’s right,” he cried. “Gee, that’s right! I’m such a crank + on all kinds of sport that I clean forgot!” + </p> + <p> + He gazed at the much-dreaded District Attorney with the awe of the + new-born hero-worshipper. “I guess you are, too, hey?” he protested + admiringly. “Vera was telling me you used to be a great ball tosser.” + </p> + <p> + In the face of the District Attorney there came a sudden interest. His + eyes lightened. + </p> + <p> + “How did she—” + </p> + <p> + “She used to watch you in Geneva,” said Mannie, “playing with the college + lads. I—I,” he added consciously, “was a ball player myself once. + Used to pitch for the Interstate League.” He stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Interstate?” said Winthrop encouragingly. “You must have been good.” + </p> + <p> + The enthusiasm had departed from the face of the boy. “Yes,” he said, “but—” + he smiled shamefacedly, “but I got taking coke, and they—” He + finished with a dramatic gesture of the hand as of a man tossing away a + cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Cocaine?” said the District Attorney. + </p> + <p> + The boy nodded and, for an instant, the two men eyed each other, the boy + smiling ruefully. The District Attorney shook his head. “My young friend,” + he said, “you can never beat that game!” + </p> + <p> + Mannie stared at him, his eyes filled with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you suppose,” he said simply, “that I know that better than you + do?” With a boy’s pride in his own incorrigibility he went on boastingly: + “Oh, yes,” he said, “I used to be awful bad! Cocaine and all kinds of + dope, and cigarettes, and whiskey. I was nearly all in—with + morphine, it was then—till she took hold of me, and stopped me.” + </p> + <p> + “She?” said Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “Vera,” said Mannie. “She made me stop. I had to stop. She started taking + it herself.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Mannie hastily, “I don’t mean what you mean—I mean + she started taking it to make me stop. She says to me, Mannie, you’re + killing yourself, and you got to quit it; and if you don’t, every time you + take a grain, I’ll take two. And she did! I’d come home, and she’d see + what I’d been doing, and she’d up with her sleeves, and—” In + horrible pantomime, the boy lifted the cuff of his shirt, and pressed his + right thumb against the wrist of his other arm. At the memory of it, he + gave a shiver and, with a blow, roughly struck the cuff into place. “God!” + he muttered, “I couldn’t stand it. I begged, and begged her not. I cried. + I used to get down, in this room, on my knees. And each time she’d get + whiter, and black under the eyes. And—and I had to stop. Didn’t I?” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop moved his head. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” cried the boy with a happy laugh, “I’m all right!” He appealed + to the older man eagerly, wistfully. “Don’t you think I’m looking better + than I did the last time you saw me?” + </p> + <p> + Again, without venturing to speak, Winthrop nodded. + </p> + <p> + Mannie smiled with pride. “Everybody tells me so,” he said. “Well, she did + it. That’s what she did for me. And, I can tell you,” he said simply, + sincerely, “there ain’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. I guess that’s + right, hey?” he added. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the cruel cross-examiner, veiled under half-closed lids, were + regarding the boy with so curious an expression that under their scrutiny + Mannie, in embarrassment, moved uneasily. “I guess that’s right,” he + repeated. + </p> + <p> + To his surprise, the District Attorney rose from his comfortable position + and, leaning across the table, held out his hand. Mannie took it + awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, it’s all right,” said the District Attorney. + </p> + <p> + From the hall there was the sound of light, quick steps, and Mannie, happy + to escape from a situation he did not understand, ran to the door. + </p> + <p> + “She’s coming,” he said. He opened the door and, as Vera entered, he + slipped past her and closed it behind him. + </p> + <p> + Vera walked directly to the chair at the top of the centre table. She was + nervous, and she was conscious that that fact was evident. To avoid + shaking hands with her visitor, she carried her own clasped in front of + her, with the fingers interlaced. She tried to speak in her usual suave, + professional tone. “How do you do?” she said. + </p> + <p> + But Winthrop would not be denied. With a smile that showed his pleasure at + again seeing her, he advanced eagerly, with his hand outstretched. “How + are you?” he exclaimed. “Aren’t you going to shake hands with me?” he + demanded. “With an old friend?” + </p> + <p> + Vera gave him her hand quickly, and then, seating herself at the table, + picked up the ivory pointer. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t know you were coming as an old friend,” she murmured + embarrassedly. “You said you were coming to consult Vera, the medium.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said that was the only way I could come,” protested Winthrop. + “Don’t you remember, you said—” + </p> + <p> + Vera interrupted him. She spoke distantly, formally. “What kind of a + reading do you want?” she asked. “A hand reading, or a crystal reading?” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop leaned forward in his chair, frankly smiling at her. He made no + attempt to conceal the pleasure the sight of her gave him. His manner was + that of a very old and dear friend, who, for the first time, had met her + after a separation of years. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t want any kind of a reading,” he declared. “I want a talking. You + don’t seem to understand,” he objected, “that I am making an afternoon + call.” His good humor was unassailable. Looking up with a perplexed frown, + Vera met his eyes and saw that he was laughing at her. She threw the ivory + pointer down and, leaning back in her chair, smiled at him. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe,” she said doubtfully, “that I know much about afternoon + calls. What would I do, if we were on Fifth Avenue? Would I give you tea?” + she asked, “because,” she added hastily, “there isn’t any tea.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, it is not etiquette to offer any,” said Winthrop gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Vera, “I’m doing it right, so far?” + </p> + <p> + They both laughed; Vera because she still was in awe of him, and Winthrop + because he was happy. + </p> + <p> + “You’re doing it charmingly,” Winthrop assured her. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” exclaimed Vera. “Well, now,” she inquired, “now we talk, don’t + we?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented Winthrop promptly, “we talk about you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I—I don’t think we do,” declared Vera, in haste. “I think we + talk about—Geneva.” She turned to him with real interest. “Is the + town much changed?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + As though preparing for a long talk, Winthrop dropped his hat to the floor + and settled himself comfortably. “Well, it is, and it isn’t,” he answered. + “Haven’t you been back lately?” he asked. Vera looked quickly away from + him. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been back!” she answered. There was a pause and when she + again turned her eyes to his, she was smiling. “But I always take the + Geneva Times,” she said, “and I often read that you’ve been there. You’re + a great man in Geneva.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop nodded gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever I want to be a great man,” he said, “I go to Geneva.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” exclaimed Vera. “Last June you delivered the oration to the + graduating class,” she laughed, “on The College Man in Politics. Such an + original subject! And did you point to yourself?” she asked mockingly, “as + the—the bright example?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” protested Winthrop, “I knew they’d see that.” + </p> + <p> + Much to her relief, Vera found that of Winthrop she was no longer afraid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she protested, “didn’t you say, twelve years ago, a humble boy + played ball for Hobart College. That boy now stands before you? Didn’t you + say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Something like that,” assented the District Attorney. “Oh!” he exclaimed, + “that young man who showed me in here—your confederate or + fellow-conspirator or lookout man or whatever he is—told me you used + to be a regular attendant at those games.” + </p> + <p> + “I never missed one!” Vera cried. She leaned forward, her eyes shining, + her brows knit with the effort of recollection. + </p> + <p> + “I used to tell Aunt,” she said, “I had to drive in for the mail. But that + was only an excuse. Aunt had an old buggy, and an old white horse called + Roscoe Conkling. I called him Rocks. He was blind in one eye, and he would + walk on the wrong side of the road; you had to drive him on one rein.” The + girl was speaking rapidly, eagerly. She had lost all fear of her visitor. + With satisfaction Winthrop recognized this; and unconsciously he was now + frankly regarding the face of the girl with a smile of pleasure and + admiration. + </p> + <p> + “And I used to tie him to the fence just opposite first base,” Vera went + on excitedly, “and shout—for you!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell me,” interrupted Winthrop, in burlesque excitement, “that you + were that very pretty little girl, with short dresses and long legs, who + used to sit on the top rail and kick and cheer.” + </p> + <p> + Vera shook her head sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” she said, “but you never saw me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, we did,” protested Winthrop. “We used to call you our mascot.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that was some other little girl,” said Vera firmly. “You never looked + at me, and I”—she laughed, and then frowned at him reproachfully—“I + thought you were magnificent! I used to have your pictures in baseball + clothes pinned all around my looking glass, and whenever you made a base + hit, I’d shout and shout—and you’d never look at me! And one day—” + she stopped, and as though appalled by the memory, clasped her hands. “Oh, + it was awful!” she exclaimed; “one day a foul ball hit the fence, and I + jumped down and threw it to you, and you said, Thank you, sis! And I,” she + cried, “thought I was a young lady!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I couldn’t have said that,” protested Winthrop, “maybe I said + sister.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” declared Vera energetically shaking her head, “not sister, sis. And + you never did look at me; and I used to drive past your house every day. + We lived only a mile below you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” asked Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “On the lake road from Syracuse,” said Vera. “Don’t you remember the farm + a mile below yours—the one with the red barn right on the road? Yes, + you do,” she insisted, “the cows were always looking over the fence right + into the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” exclaimed Winthrop delightedly. “Was that your house?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” protested Vera, “ours was the little cottage on the other side—” + </p> + <p> + “With poplars round it?” demanded Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it!” cried Vera triumphantly, “with poplars round it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I know that house well. We boys used to call it the haunted house.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the one,” assented Vera. She smiled with satisfaction. “Well, + that’s where I lived until Aunt died,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “And then, what?” asked Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the girl did not answer. Her face had grown grave and she sat + motionless, staring beyond her. Suddenly, as though casting her thoughts + from her, she gave a sharp toss of her head. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, speaking quickly, “I went into the mills, and was ill + there, and I wrote Paul and Mabel to ask if I could join them, and they + said I could. But I was too ill, and I had no money—nothing. And + then,” she raised her eyes to his and regarded him steadily, “then I stole + that cloak to get the money to join them, and you—you helped me to + get away, and—and” Winthrop broke in hastily. He disregarded both + her manner and the nature of what she had said. + </p> + <p> + “And how did you come to know the Vances?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + After a pause of an instant, the girl accepted the cue his manner gave + her, and answered as before. + </p> + <p> + “Through my aunt,” she said, “she was a medium too.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” cried Winthrop. “I remember now, that’s why we called it the + haunted house.” + </p> + <p> + “My aunt,” said the girl, regarding him steadily and with, in her manner, + a certain defiance, “was a great medium. All the spiritualists in that + part of the State used to meet at our house. I’ve witnessed some wonderful + manifestations in that front parlor.” She turned to Winthrop and smiled. + “So, you see,” she exclaimed, “I was born and brought up in this business. + I am the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. My grandmother was a + medium, my mother was a medium—she worked with the Fox sisters + before they were exposed. But, my aunt,” she added thoughtfully, + judicially, “was the greatest medium I have ever seen. She did certain + things I couldn’t understand, and I know every trick in the trade—unless,” + she explained, “you believe the spirits helped her.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop was observing the girl intently, with a new interest. + </p> + <p> + “And you don’t believe that?” he asked, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “How can I?” Vera said. “I was brought up with them.” She shook her head + and smiled. “I used to play around the kitchen stove with Pocahontas and + Alexander the Great, and Martin Luther lived in our china closet. You see, + the neighbors wouldn’t let their children come to our house; so, the only + playmates I had were—ghosts.” She laughed wistfully. “My!” she + exclaimed, “I was a queer, lonely little rat. I used to hear voices and + see visions. I do still,” she added. With her elbows on the arms of her + chair, she clasped her hands under her chin and leaned forward. She turned + her eyes to Winthrop and nodded confidentially. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” she said, “sometimes I think people from the other world do + speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said,” Winthrop objected, “you didn’t believe.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” returned Vera. “I can’t!” Her voice was perplexed, impatient. + “Why, I can sit in this chair,” she declared earnestly, “and fill this + room with spirit voices and rappings, and you sitting right there can’t + see how I do it. And yet, in spite of all the tricks, sometimes I believe + there’s something in it.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at Winthrop, her eyes open with inquiry. He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” insisted the girl. “When these women come to me for advice, I don’t + invent what I say to them. It’s as though something told me what to say. I + have never met them before, but as soon as I pass into the trance state I + seem to know all their troubles. And I seem to be half in this world and + half in another world—carrying messages between them. Maybe,” her + voice had sunk to almost a whisper; she continued as though speaking to + herself, “I only think that. I don’t know. I wonder.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” began Winthrop earnestly, “I wish you were younger, or I were + older.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Vera. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said the young man, “I’d like to talk to you—like a + father.” + </p> + <p> + Vera turned and smiled on him securely, with frank friendliness. “Go + ahead,” she assented, “talk to me like a father.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop smiled back at her, and then frowned. + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn’t be in this business,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl regarded him steadily. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with the business?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop felt she had put him upon the defensive, but he did not hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “there may be some truth in it. But we don’t know that. + We do know that there’s a lot of fraud and deceit in it. Now,” he declared + warmly, “there’s nothing deceitful about you. You’re fine,” he cried + enthusiastically, “you’re big! That boy who was in here told me one story + about you that showed—” + </p> + <p> + Vera stopped him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know of me?” she asked bitterly. “The first time you ever saw + me I was in a police court; and this morning—you heard that man + threaten to put me in jail—” + </p> + <p> + In turn, by abruptly rising from his chair, Winthrop interrupted her. He + pushed the chair out of his way, and, shoving his hands into his trousers’ + pockets, began pacing with long, quick strides up and down the room. “What + do I care for that?” he cried contemptuously. He tossed the words at her + over his shoulder. “I put lots of people in jail myself that are better + than I am. Only, they won’t play the game.” He halted, and turned on her. + “Now, you’re not playing the game. This is a mean business, taking money + from silly girls and old men. You’re too good for that.” He halted at the + table and stood facing her. “I’ve got two sisters uptown,” he said. He + spoke commandingly, peremptorily. “And tomorrow I am going to take you to + see them. And we fellow townsmen,” he smiled at her appealingly, “will + talk this over, and we’ll make you come back to your own people.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the two regarded each other. Then the girl answered firmly, + but with a slight hoarseness in her voice, and in a tone hardly louder + than a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “You know I can’t do that!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t!” blustered Winthrop. “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said the girl steadily, “of what I did in Geneva.” As though + the answer was the one he had feared, the man exclaimed sharply, + rebelliously. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” he cried. “You didn’t know what you were doing. No decent + person would consider that.” + </p> + <p> + “They do,” said the girl, “they are the very ones who do. And—it’s + been in the papers. Everybody in Geneva knows it. And here too. And + whenever I try to get away from this”—she stretched out her hands to + include the room about her—“Someone tells! Five times, now.” She + leaned forward appealingly, not as though asking pity for herself, but as + wishing him to see her point of view. “I didn’t choose this business,” she + protested, “I was sort of born in it, and,” she broke out loyally, “I hate + to have you call it a mean business; but I can’t get into any other. + Whenever I have, some man says, That girl in your front office is a + thief.” The restraint she put upon herself, the air of disdain which at + all times she had found the most convenient defense, fell from her. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not fair!” she cried, “it’s not fair.” To her mortification, the + tears of self-pity sprang to her eyes, and as she fiercely tried to brush + them away, to her greater anger, continued to creep down her cheeks. “It + was nine years ago,” she protested, “I was a child. I’ve been punished + enough.” She raised her face frankly to his, speaking swiftly, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I want to get away!” she cried. “Of course, I want friends. + I’ve never had a friend. I’ve always been alone. I’m tired, tired! I hate + this business. I never know how much I hate it until the chance comes to + get away—and I can’t.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, but without lowering her head or moving her eyes from his. + </p> + <p> + “This time,” said the man quietly, “you’re going to get away from it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t,” repeated the girl, “you can’t help me!” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop smiled at her confidently. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to try,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, please!” begged the girl. Her voice was still shaken with tears. She + motioned with her head toward the room behind her. + </p> + <p> + “These are my people,” she declared defiantly, as though daring him to + contradict her. “And they are good people! They’ve tried to be good + friends to me, and they’ve been true to me.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop came toward her and stood beside her, so close that he could have + placed his hand upon her shoulder. He wondered, whimsically, if she knew + how cruel she seemed in appealing with her tears, her helplessness and + loveliness to what was generous and chivalric in him; and, at the same + time, by her words, treating him as an interloper and an enemy. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” he said gently. “But that doesn’t prevent my being a + good friend to you, too, does it? Or,” he added, his voice growing tense + and conscious—“my being true to you? My sisters will be here + tomorrow,” he announced briskly. + </p> + <p> + Vera had wearily dropped her arms upon the table and lowered her head upon + them. From a place down in the depths she murmured a protest. + </p> + <p> + “No,” contradicted Winthrop cheerfully, “this time you are going to win. + You’ll have back of you, If I do say it, two of the best women God ever + made. Only, now, you must do as I say.” There was a pause. “Will you?” he + begged. + </p> + <p> + Vera raised her head slowly, holding her hand across her eyes. There was a + longer silence, and then she looked up at him and smiled pathetically, + gratefully, and nodded. “Good!” cried Winthrop. “No more spooks,” he + laughed, “no more spirit rappings.” + </p> + <p> + Through her tears Vera smiled up at him a wan, broken smile. She gave a + shudder of distaste. “Never!” she whispered. “I promise.” Their eyes met; + the girl’s looking into his shyly, gratefully; the man’s searching hers + eagerly. And suddenly they saw each other with a new and wonderful + sympathy and understanding. Winthrop felt himself bending toward her. He + was conscious that the room had grown dark, and that he could see only her + eyes. “You must be just yourself,” he commanded, but so gently, so + tenderly, that, though he did not know it, each word carried with it the + touch of a caress, “just your sweet, fine, noble self!” + </p> + <p> + Something he read in the girl’s uplifted eyes made him draw back with a + shock of wonder, of delight, with an upbraiding conscience. To pull + himself together, he glanced quickly about him. The day had really grown + dark. He felt a sudden desire to get away; to go where he could ask + himself what had happened, what it was that had filled this unknown, + tawdry room with beauty and given it the happiness of a home. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” he exclaimed nervously, “I had no idea I’d stayed so long. + You’ll not let me come again. Goodbye—until tomorrow.” He turned, + holding out his hand, and found that again the girl had dropped her face + upon her arm, and was sobbing quietly, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what is it?” cried Winthrop. “What have I said?” The catch in the + girl’s voice as she tried to check the sobs wrenched his heart. “Oh, + please,” he begged, “I’ve said something wrong? I’ve hurt you?” With her + face still hidden in her arms, the girl shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she sobbed. Her voice, soft with tears, was a melody of sweet + and tender tones. “It’s only—that I’ve been so lonely—and + you’ve made me happy, happy!” + </p> + <p> + The sobs broke out afresh, but Winthrop, now knowing that they brought to + the girl peace, was no longer filled with dismay. + </p> + <p> + Her head was bent upon her left arm, her right hand lightly clasped the + edge of the table. With the intention of saying farewell, Winthrop took + her hand in his. The girl did not move. To his presence she seemed utterly + oblivious. In the gathering dusk he could see the bent figure, could hear + the soft, irregular breathing as the girl wept gently, happily, like a + child sobbing itself to sleep. The hand he held in his neither repelled + nor invited, and for an instant he stood motionless, holding it + uncertainly. It was so delicate, so helpless, so appealing, so altogether + lovable. It seemed to reach up, and, with warm, clinging fingers, clutch + the tendrils of his heart. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop bent his head suddenly, and lifting the hand, kissed it; and + then, without again speaking, walked quickly into the hall and shut the + door. In the room the dusk deepened. Through the open windows came the + roar of the Sixth Avenue Elevated, the insistent clamor of an electric + hansom, the murmur of Broadway at night. The tears had suddenly ceased, + but the girl had not moved. At last, slowly, stiffly, she raised her head. + Her eyes, filled with wonder, with amazement, were fixed upon her hand. + She glanced cautiously about her. Assured she was alone, with her other + hand she lifted the one Winthrop had kissed and held it pressed against + her lips. + </p> + <p> + The folding doors were thrown open, letting in a flood of light, and Mabel + Vance, entering swiftly, knelt at the table and bent her head close to + Vera. + </p> + <p> + “That woman’s in the hall,” she whispered, “that niece of Hallowell’s. + Paul and Mannie can’t get rid of her. Now she’s got hold of Winthrop. She + says she will see you. Be careful!” + </p> + <p> + Vera rose. That Mabel might not see she had been weeping, she walked to + the piano, covertly drying her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What,” she asked dully, “does she want with me?” + </p> + <p> + “About tonight,” answered Mabel. She exclaimed fiercely, “I told them + there’d be trouble!” + </p> + <p> + With Vance upon her heels, Helen Coates came in quickly from the hall. Her + face was flushed, her eyes lit with indignation and excitement. In her + hand she held an open letter. + </p> + <p> + As though to protect Vera, both Vance and his wife moved between her and + their visitor, but, disregarding them, Miss Coates at once singled out the + girl as her opponent. + </p> + <p> + “You are the young woman they call Vera, I believe,” she said. “I have a + note here from Mr. Hallowell telling me you are giving a seance tonight at + his house. That you propose to exhibit the spirit of my mother. That is an + insult to the memory of my mother and to me. And I warn you, if you + attempt such a thing, I will prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. When Vera spoke it was in the tone of every-day + politeness. Her voice was even and steady. + </p> + <p> + “You have been misinformed,” she said, “there will be no seance tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Vance turned to Vera, and, in a voice lower than her own, but sufficiently + loud to include Miss Coates, said: “I don’t think we told you that Mr. + Hallowell himself insists that this lady and her friends be present.” + </p> + <p> + “Her presence makes no difference,” said Vera quietly. “There will be no + seance tonight. I will tell you about it later, Paul,” she added. She + started toward the door, but Miss Coates moved as though to intercept her. + </p> + <p> + “If you think,” she cried eagerly, “you can give a seance to Mr. Hallowell + without my knowing it, you are mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + Vera paused, and made a slight inclination of her head. + </p> + <p> + “That was not my idea,” she said. She looked appealingly to Vance. “Is + that not enough, Paul?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite enough!” exclaimed the man. He turned to the visitor and made a + curt movement of the hand toward the open door. + </p> + <p> + “There will be a seance tonight,” he declared. “At Mr. Hallowell’s. If you + wish to protest against it, you can do so there. This is my house. If you + have finished—” He repeated the gesture toward the open door. + </p> + <p> + “I have not finished,” said Miss Coates sharply; “and if you take my + advice, you will follow her example.” With a nod of the head she signified + Vera. “When she sees she’s in danger, she knows enough to stop. This is + not a question of a few medium’s tricks,” she cried, contemptuously. “I + know all that you planned to do, and I intend that tomorrow every one in + New York shall know it too.” + </p> + <p> + Like a cloak Vera’s self-possession fell from her. In alarm she moved + forward. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I have had you people followed pretty closely,” said Miss Coates. Her + tone was assured. She was confident that of those before her she was the + master, and that of that fact they were aware. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she went on, “just how you tried to impose upon my uncle—how + you tried to rob me, and tonight I have invited the reporters to my house + to give them the facts.” + </p> + <p> + With a cry Vera ran to her. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she begged, “you won’t do that. You must not do that!” + </p> + <p> + “Let her talk!” growled Vance. “Let her talk! She’s funny.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” commanded Vera. Her voice rang with the distress. “She cannot do + that!” She turned to Miss Coates. “We haven’t hurt you,” she pleaded; “we + haven’t taken your money. I promise you,” she cried, “we will never see + Mr. Hallowell again. I beg of you—” + </p> + <p> + Vance indignantly caught her by the arm and drew her back. “You don’t beg + nothing of her!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” Vera answered wildly. She caught Vance’s hand in both of hers. “I + have a chance, Paul,” she entreated, “don’t force me through it again. I + can’t stand the shame of it again.” Once more she appealed to the visitor. + “Don’t!” she begged. “Don’t shame me.” + </p> + <p> + But the eyes of the older girl, blind to everything save what, as she saw + it, was her duty, showed no consideration. + </p> + <p> + Vera’s hands, trembling on his arm, drove Vance to deeper anger. He turned + savagely upon Miss Coates. + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t lost anything yet, have you?” he demanded. “She hasn’t hurt + you, has she? If it’s revenge you want,” he cried insolently, “why don’t + you throw vitriol on the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Revenge!” exclaimed Miss Coates indignantly. “It is my duty. My public + duty. I’m not alone in this; I am acting with the District Attorney. It is + our duty.” She turned suddenly and called, “Mr. Winthrop, Mr. Winthrop!” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Vera saw, under the gas jet, at the farther end of the + hall, the figures of Mannie and Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she protested, “I beg of you,” she cried hysterically. “I’ve got + a chance. If you print this thing tomorrow, I’ll never have a chance + again. Don’t take it away from me.” Impulsively her arms reached out in an + eager final appeal. “I’m down,” she said simply, “give me a chance to get + up.” + </p> + <p> + When Miss Coates came to give battle to the Vances, she foresaw the + interview might be unpleasant. It was proving even more unpleasant than + she had expected, but her duty seemed none the less obvious. + </p> + <p> + “You should have thought of that,” she said, “before you were found out.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Vera stood motionless, staring, unconsciously holding the + attitude of appeal. But when, by these last words, she recognized that her + humiliation could go no further, with an inarticulate exclamation she + turned away. + </p> + <p> + “The public has the right to know,” declared Miss Coates, “the sort of + people you are. I have the record of each of you—” + </p> + <p> + From the hall Winthrop had entered quickly, but, disregarding him, Vance + broke in upon the speaker, savagely, defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “Print em, then!” he shouted, “print em!” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to,” declared Miss Coates, “yours, and hers, she—” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop placed himself in front of her, shutting her off from the others. + He spoke in an earnest whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” he begged. “She has asked for a chance. Give her a chance.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Coates scorned to speak in whispers. + </p> + <p> + “She has had a chance,” she protested loudly. “She’s had a chance for nine + years; and she’s chosen to be a charlatan and a cheat, and—” The + angry woman hesitated, and then flung the word—“and a thief!” + </p> + <p> + In the silence that followed no one turned toward Vera; but as it + continued unbroken each raised his eyes and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + They saw her drawn to her full height; the color flown from her face, her + deep, brooding eyes flashing. She was like one by some religious fervor + lifted out of herself, exalted. When she spoke her voice was low, tense. + It vibrated with tremendous, wondering indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who I am?” she asked. She spoke like one in a trance. “Do you + know who you are threatening with your police and your laws? I am a + priestess! I am a medium between the souls of this world and the next. I + am Vera—the Truth! And I mean,” the girl cried suddenly, harshly, + flinging out her arm, “that you shall hear the truth! Tonight I will bring + your mother from the grave to speak it to you!” + </p> + <p> + With a swift, sweeping gesture she pointed to the door. “Take those people + away!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of Winthrop were filled with pity. “Vera!” he said, “Vera!” + </p> + <p> + For an instant, against the tenderness and reproach in his voice the girl + held herself motionless; and then, falling upon the shoulder of Mrs. + Vance, burst into girlish, heart-broken tears. + </p> + <p> + “Take them away,” she sobbed, “take them away!” + </p> + <p> + Mannie Day and Vance closed in upon the visitors, and motioning them + before them, drove them from the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Part III + </h2> + <p> + The departure of the District Attorney and Miss Coates left Vera free to + consider how serious, if she carried out her threat, the consequences + might be. But of this chance she did not avail herself. Instead, with + nervous zeal she began to prepare for her masquerade. It was as though her + promise to Winthrop to abandon her old friends had filled her with + remorse, and that she now, by an extravagance of loyalty, was endeavoring + to make amends. + </p> + <p> + At nine o’clock, with the Vances, she arrived at the house of Mr. + Hallowell. Already, to the same place, a wagon had carried the cabinet, a + parlor organ, and a dozen of those camp chairs that are associated with + house weddings and funerals; and while, in the library, Vance and Mannie + arranged these to their liking, on the third floor Vera, with Mrs. Vance, + waited for that moment to arrive when Vance considered her entrance would + be the most effective. + </p> + <p> + This entrance was to be made through the doorway that opened from the hall + on the second story into the library. To the right of this door, in an + angle of two walls, was the cabinet, and on the left, the first of the + camp chairs. These had been placed in a semicircle that stretched across + the room, and ended at the parlor organ. The door from Mr. Hallowell’s + bedroom opened directly upon the semicircle at the point most distant from + the cabinet. In the centre of the semicircle Vance had placed the + invalid’s arm chair. + </p> + <p> + Vance, in his manner as professional and undisturbed as a photographer + focussing his camera and arranging his screens, was explaining to Judge + Gaylor the setting of his stage. The judge was an unwilling audience. + Unlike the showman, for him the occasion held only terrors. He was driven + by misgivings, swept by sudden panics. He scowled at the cabinet, + intruding upon the privacy of the room where for years, without the aid of + accessories, by his brains alone, he had brought Mr. Hallowell almost to + the point of abject submission to his wishes. He turned upon Vance with + bitter self-disgust. + </p> + <p> + “So, I’ve got down as low as this, have I?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Vance heard him, undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + “I must ask you,” he said, briskly, “to help me keep the people just as I + seat them. They will be in this half-circle facing the cabinet and holding + hands. Those we know are against us,” he explained, “will have one of my + friends, Professor Strombergk, or Mrs. Marsh, or my wife, on each side of + him. If there should be any attempt to rush the cabinet, we must get there + first. I will be outside the cabinet working the rappings, the floating + music, and the astral bodies.” At the sight of the expression these words + brought to the face of Gaylor, Vance permitted himself the shadow of a + smile. “I can take care of myself,” he went on, “but remember—Vera + must not be caught outside the cabinet! When the lights go up, she must be + found with the ropes still tied.” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor turned from him with an exclamation of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Pah!” he muttered. “It’s a hell of a business!” + </p> + <p> + Vance continued unmoved. “And, another thing,” he said, “about these + lights; this switch throws them all off, doesn’t it?” He pressed a button + on the left of the door, and the electric lights in the walls and under a + green shade on the library table faded and disappeared, leaving the room, + save for the light from the hall, in darkness. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the way we want it,” said the showman. + </p> + <p> + From the hall Mannie appeared between the curtains that hung across the + doorway. “What are you doing with the lights?” he demanded. “You want to + break my neck? All our people are downstairs,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + Vance turned on the lights. At the same moment Rainey came from the + bedroom into the library. It was evident that to sustain his courage he + had been drinking. He made no effort to greet those in the room, but + stood, glaring resentfully at the cabinet and the row of chairs. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” exclaimed Vance cheerfully, “if our folks are all here, we’re all + right.” + </p> + <p> + Glancing behind him, Mannie took Vance by the sleeve, and led him to the + centre of the room. + </p> + <p> + “No, we’re not all right,” said the boy, “that Miss Coates has brought a + friend with her. She says Hallowell told her she could bring a friend. She + says this young fellow is her friend. I think he’s a Pink!” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense,” exclaimed Gaylor in alarm. “No detective would force his + way into this house.” + </p> + <p> + “She says,” continued Mannie, disregarding Gaylor, and still addressing + Vance, “he’s a seeker after the Truth. I’ll bet,” declared the boy + violently, “he’s a seeker after the truth!” + </p> + <p> + Garrett came hastily and noiselessly into the room. He nodded toward + Mannie. + </p> + <p> + “Has he told you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Gaylor answered, “who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “The reporter who was here this morning,” Garrett returned. “The one who + threatened—” + </p> + <p> + “That’ll do,” commanded Gaylor. In the face of this new complication he + again became himself. Suavely and politely he turned to Vance. “Will you + and your friend join Miss Vera,” he asked, “and tell her that we begin in + a few minutes?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time, aggressively and offensively Rainey broke his silence. + </p> + <p> + “No, we won’t begin in a few minutes,” he announced, “not by a damned + sight!” + </p> + <p> + The explosion was so unexpected that, for an instant, while the eyes of + all were fixed in astonishment upon the speaker, there was complete + silence. Gaylor, still suave, still polite, looked toward Vance, and + motioned him to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Will you kindly do as I ask?” he said. With Mannie at his side, Vance + walked quickly from the room. Once in the hall, the boy laid a detaining + hand upon the arm of the older man. + </p> + <p> + “If you’ll take my advice, which you won’t,” he said, “we’ll all cut and + run now, while we got the chance!” + </p> + <p> + In the library, Gaylor turned savagely upon his fellow conspirator. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Rainey frowned at him sulkily. “I wash my hands of the whole thing!” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + Gaylor dropped his voice to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “What are you afraid of now?” he demanded. “If you’re not afraid of a + district attorney, why are you afraid of a reporter?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not afraid of anybody,” returned Rainey, thickly. “But, I don’t mean + to be a party to no murder!” He paused, shaking his head portentously. + “That man in there,” he whispered, nodding toward the bedroom, “is in no + condition to go through this. After that shock this morning, and last + night—it’ll kill him. His heart’s rotten, I tell you, rotten!” + </p> + <p> + Garrett snarled contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know?” returned Rainey, fiercely. “I was four years in a medical + college, when you were in jail, you—” “Stop that!” cried Gaylor. + Glancing fearfully toward the open door, he interposed between them. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t take my advice, then,” cried Rainey. “Go on! Kill him! And he won’t + sign your will. Only, don’t say I didn’t tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you told him?” demanded Gaylor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Rainey answered stoutly. “Told him if he didn’t stop this, he + wouldn’t live till morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we forcing him to do this?” demanded Gaylor. “No! He’s forcing it on + us. My God!” he exclaimed, “do you think I want this farce? You say, + yourself, you told him it would kill him, and he will go on with it. Then + why do you blame us? Can we help ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + The butler had distinguished the sounds of footsteps in the hall. He fell + hastily to rearranging the camp chairs. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he warned. “Look out!” Gaylor and Rainey had but time to move + apart, when Winthrop entered. He regarded the three men with a smile of + understanding. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon,” he exclaimed, “I am interrupting?” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor greeted him with exaggerated heartiness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is Mr. Winthrop!” he cried. “Have you come to help us find out the + truth this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly hope not!” said Winthrop brusquely. “I know the truth about + too many people already.” He turned to Garrett, who, unobtrusively, was + endeavoring to make his escape. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Miss Vera,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vera,” interposed Gaylor. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. She + especially asked not to be disturbed before the seance. I’m sorry.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop’s manner became suspiciously polite. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” he inquired. “Well, nevertheless I think I’ll ask her. Tell Miss + Vera, please,” he said to Garrett, “that Mr. Winthrop would like a word + with her here,” with significance he added, “in private.” + </p> + <p> + In offended dignity, Judge Gaylor moved toward the door. “Dr. Rainey,” he + said stiffly, “will you please inform Mr. Hallowell that his guests are + now here, and that I have gone to bring them upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you won’t bring them upstairs, please,” said Winthrop, “until + you hear from me.” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor flushed with anger and for a moment appeared upon the point of + mutiny. Then, as though refusing to consider himself responsible for the + manners of the younger man, he shrugged his shoulders and left the room. + </p> + <p> + With even less of consideration than he had shown to Judge Gaylor, + Winthrop turned upon Rainey. + </p> + <p> + “How’s your patient?” he asked shortly. Rainey was sufficiently influenced + by the liquor he had taken to dare to resent Winthrop’s peremptory tone. + His own in reply was designedly offensive. + </p> + <p> + “My patient?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hallowell,” snapped Winthrop, “he’s sick, isn’t he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know,” returned the Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know?” demanded Winthrop. “Well, I know. I know if he goes + through this thing tonight, he’ll have another collapse. I saw one this + morning. Why don’t you forbid it? You’re his medical adviser, aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Rainey remained sullenly silent. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me!” insisted the District Attorney. “You are, aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” at last declared Rainey. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” commanded Winthrop, “tell him to stop this. Tell him I + advise it.” + </p> + <p> + Through his glasses Rainey blinked violently at the District Attorney, and + laughed. “I didn’t know,” he said, “that you were a medical man.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop looked at the Doctor so steadily, and for so long a time, that + the eyes of the young man sought the floor and the ceiling; and his sneer + changed to an expression of discomfort. + </p> + <p> + “I am not,” said Winthrop. “I am the District Attorney of New York.” His + tones were cold, precise; they fell upon the superheated brain of Dr. + Rainey like drops from an icicle. + </p> + <p> + “When I took over that office,” continued Winthrop, “I found a complaint + against two medical students, a failure to report the death of an old man + in a private sanitarium.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop lowered his eyes, and became deeply absorbed in the toe of his + boot. “I haven’t looked into the papers, yet,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Rainey, swaying slightly, jerked open the door of the bedroom. “I’ll tell + him,” he panted thickly. “I’ll tell him to do as you say.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I wish you would,” said Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment, from the hall, Garrett announced, “Mrs. Vance, sir.” + And Mabel Vance, tremulous and frightened, entered the room. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop approached her eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mrs. Vance,” he exclaimed, “can I see Miss Vera?” + </p> + <p> + Embarrassed and unhappy, Mrs. Vance moved restlessly from foot to foot, + and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Mr. District Attorney,” she begged. “I’m afraid not. This + afternoon upset her so. And she’s so nervous and queer that the Professor + thinks she shouldn’t see nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “The Professor?” he commented. His voice was considerate, conciliatory. + “Now, Mrs. Vance,” he said, “I’ve known Miss Vera ever since she was a + little girl, known her longer than you have, and, I’m her friend, and + you’re her friend, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” protested Mabel Vance tearfully. “Indeed I am!” + </p> + <p> + “I know you are,” Winthrop interrupted hastily. “You’ve been more than a + friend to her, you’ve been a sister, mother, and you don’t want any + trouble to come to her, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” cried the woman. “Oh!” she exclaimed miserably, “I told them + there’d be trouble!” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop laughed reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there won’t be any trouble,” he declared, “if I can help it. And if + you want to help her, help me. Persuade her to let me talk to her. Don’t + mind what the Professor says.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” declared Mrs. Vance with determination, “I will.” She started + eagerly toward the hall, and then paused and returned. Her hands were + clasped; her round, baby eyes, wet with tears, were fixed upon Winthrop + appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please,” she pleaded, “you’re not going to hurt him, are you? Paul, + my husband,” she explained, “he’s been such a good husband to me.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop laughed uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that’ll be all right,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t mean any harm,” insisted Mrs. Vance, “he’s on the level; true, + he is!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, of course,” Winthrop assented. + </p> + <p> + Unsatisfied, Mrs. Vance burst into tears. “It’s this spirit business that + makes the trouble!” she cried. “I tell them to cut it out. Now, the mind + reading at the theatre,” she sobbed, “there’s no harm in that, is there? + And there’s twice the money in it. But this ghost raising”—she + raised her eyes appealingly, as though begging to be contradicted—“it’s + sure to get him into trouble, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop shook his head, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It may,” he said. Mrs. Vance broke into a fresh outburst of tears. “I + knew it,” she cried, “I knew it.” Winthrop placed his hand upon her arm + and turned her in the direction of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “Go send Miss Vera here. And,” he + called after her, “don’t worry.” + </p> + <p> + As Mabel departed upon his errand, Rainey reentered from the bedroom. He + carefully closed the door and halted with his hand upon the knob, and + shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use,” he said, “he will go on with it. It’s not my fault,” he + whined, “I told him it would kill him. I couldn’t make it any stronger + than that, could I?” + </p> + <p> + Rainey was not looking at Winthrop, but, as though fearful of + interruption, toward the door. His eyes were harassed, furtive, filled + with miserable indecision. Many times before Winthrop had seen men in such + a state. He knew that for the sufferer it foretold a physical break down, + or that he would seek relief in full confession. To give the man + confidence, he abandoned his attitude of suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “That certainly would be strong enough for me,” he said cheerfully. “Did + you tell him what I advised?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” muttered Rainey impatiently. “He said you were invited here to + give advice to his niece, not to him.” For the first time his eyes met + those of Winthrop boldly. The District Attorney recognized that the man + had taken his fears by the throat, and had arrived at his decision. + </p> + <p> + “See here,” exclaimed Rainey, “could I give you some information?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure you could,” returned Winthrop briskly. “Give it to me now.” + </p> + <p> + But Rainey, glancing toward the door, shrank back. Winthrop, following the + direction of his eyes, saw Vera. Impatiently he waved Rainey away. + </p> + <p> + “At the office, tomorrow morning,” he commanded. With a sigh of relief at + the reprieve, Rainey slipped back into the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Winthrop had persuaded himself that in seeking to speak with Vera, he was + making only a natural choice between preventing the girl from perpetrating + a fraud, or, later, for that fraud, holding her to account. But when she + actually stood before him, he recognized how absurdly he had deceived + himself. At the mere physical sight of her, there came to him a swift + relief, a thrill of peace and deep content; and with delighted certainty + he knew that what Vera might do or might not do concerned him not at all, + that for him all that counted was the girl herself. With something of this + showing in his face, he came eagerly toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Vera!” he exclaimed. In the word there was delight, wonder, tenderness; + but if the girl recognized this she concealed her knowledge. Instead, her + eyes looked into his frankly; her manner was that of open friendliness. + </p> + <p> + “Mabel tells me you want to talk to me,” she said evenly “but I don’t want + you to. I have something I want to say to you. I could have written it, + but this”—for an instant the girl paused with her lips pressed + together; when she spoke, her voice carried the firmness and finality of + one delivering a verdict—“but this,” she repeated, “is the last time + you shall hear from me, or see me again.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop gave an exclamation of impatience, of indignation. + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned the girl, “it is quite final. Maybe you will not want to + see me, but—” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop again sharply interrupted her. His voice was filled with + reproach. “Vera!” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the girl more gently, “I’m glad to think you do, but this is + the last, and before I go, I—“. + </p> + <p> + “Go!” demanded Winthrop roughly. “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Before I go,” continued the girl, “I want to tell you how much you have + helped me—I want to thank you—“. + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t let me thank you,” broke in Winthrop, “and, now, you pretend + this is our last meeting. It’s absurd!”. + </p> + <p> + “It is our last meeting,” replied the girl. Of the two, for the moment, + she was the older, the more contained. “On the contrary,” contradicted the + man. He spoke sharply, in a tone he tried to make as determined as her + own. “Our next meeting will be in ten minutes—at my sister’s. I have + told her about this afternoon, and about you; and she wants very much to + meet you. She has sent her car for you. It’s waiting in front of the + house. Now,” he commanded masterfully, “you come with me, and get in it, + and leave all this”—he gave an angry, contemptuous wave of the hand + toward the cabinet—“behind you, as,” he added earnestly, “you + promised me you would.” + </p> + <p> + As though closing from sight the possibility he suggested, the girl shut + her eyes quickly, and then opened them again to meet his. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t leave these things behind me,” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I told you so this afternoon. For a moment, you made me think I could, + and I did promise. I didn’t need to promise. It’s what I’ve prayed for. + Then, you saw what happened, you saw I was right. Within five minutes that + woman came—” + </p> + <p> + “That woman had a motive,” protested Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “That woman,” continued the girl patiently, “or some other woman. What + does it matter? In five minutes, or five days, some one would have told.” + She leaned toward him anxiously. “I’m not complaining,” she said; “it’s my + own fault. It’s the life I’ve chosen.” She hesitated and then as though + determined to carry out a programme she had already laid down for herself, + continued rapidly: “And what I want to tell you, is, that what’s best in + that life I owe to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Vera!” cried the man sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” said the girl. Her eyes were alight, eager. She spoke frankly, + proudly, without embarrassment, without fear of being misconstrued, as a + man might speak to a man. + </p> + <p> + “I’d be ungrateful, I’d be a coward,” said the girl, “if I went away and + didn’t tell you. For ten years I’ve been counting on you. I made you a + sort of standard. I said, as long as he keeps to his ideals, I’m going to + keep to mine. Maybe you think my ideals have not been very high, but + anyway you’ve made it easy for me. Because I’m in this business, because + I’m good-looking enough, certain men”—the voice of the girl grew + hard and cool—“have done me the honor to insult me, and it was + knowing you, and that there are others like you, that helped me not to + care.” The girl paused. She raised her eyes to his frankly. The look in + them was one of pride in him, of loyalty, of affection. “And now, since + I’ve met you,” she went on, “I find you’re just as I imagined you’d be, + just as I’d hoped you’d be.” She reached out her hand warningly, + appealingly. “And I don’t want you to change, to let down, to grow + discouraged. You can’t tell how many more people are counting on you.” She + hesitated and, as though at last conscious of her own boldness, flushed + deprecatingly, like one asking pardon. “You men in high places,” she + stammered, “you’re like light houses showing the way. You don’t know how + many people you are helping. You can’t see them. You can’t tell how many + boats are following your light, but if your light goes out, they are + wrecked.” She gave a sigh of relief. “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” + she said, “and, so thank you.” She held out her hand. “And, goodby.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop’s answer was to clasp her hand quickly in both of his, and draw + her toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Vera,” he begged, “come with me now!” + </p> + <p> + The girl withdrew her hand and moved away from him, frowning. “No,” she + said, “no, you do not want to understand. I have my work to do tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop gave an exclamation of anger. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to tell me,” he cried, “that you’re going on with this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, And then in sudden alarm cried: “But not if you’re here! + I’ll fail if you’re here. Promise me, you will not be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” cried the man indignantly, “I will not! But I’ll be downstairs + when you need me. And,” he added warningly, “you’ll need me.” “No,” said + the girl. “No matter what happens, I tell you, between us, this is the + end.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” begged the man, “if this is the end, for God’s sake, Vera, as my + last request, do not do it!” + </p> + <p> + The girl shook her head. “No,” she repeated firmly. “I’ve tried to get + away from it, and each time they’ve forced me back. Now, I’ll go on with + it. I’ve promised Paul, and the others. And you heard me promise that + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “But you didn’t mean that!” protested the man. “She insulted you; you were + angry. You’re angry now, piqued—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Winthrop,” interrupted the girl, “today you told me I was not playing + the game. You told the truth. When you said this was a mean business, you + were right. But”—for the first time since she had spoken her tones + were shaken, uncertain—“I’ve been driven out of every other + business.” She waited until her voice was again under control, and then + said slowly, definitely, “and, tonight, I am going to show Mr. Hallowell + the spirit of his sister.” + </p> + <p> + In the eyes of Winthrop the look of pain, of disappointment, of reproach, + was so keen, that the girl turned her own away. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the man gently, “you will not do that.” + </p> + <p> + “You can stop my doing it tonight,” returned the girl, “but at some other + time, at some other place, I will do it.” + </p> + <p> + “You yourself will stop it,” said Winthrop. “You are too honest, too fine, + to act such a lie. Why not be yourself?” he begged. “Why not disappoint + these other people who do not know you? Why disappoint the man who knows + you best, who trusts you, who believes in you—“. + </p> + <p> + “You are the very one,” interrupted the girl, “who doesn’t know me. I am + not fine; I am not honest. I am a charlatan and a cheat; I am all that + woman called me. And that is why you can’t know me. That’s why. I told + you, if you did, you would be sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sorry,” said Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “You will be,” returned the girl, “before the night is over.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” answered the man quietly, “I shall wait here to + congratulate you—on your failure.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not fail,” said the girl. Avoiding his eyes, she turned from him + and, for a moment, stood gazing before her miserably. Her lips were + trembling, her eyes moist with rising tears. Then she faced him, her head + raised defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “I have been hounded out of every decent way of living,” she protested + hysterically. “I can make thousands of dollars tonight,” she cried, “out + of this one.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop looked straight into her eyes. His own were pleading, full of + tenderness and pity; so eloquent with meaning that those of the girl fell + before them. + </p> + <p> + “That is no answer,” said the man. “You know it’s not. I tell you—you + will fail.” + </p> + <p> + From the hall Judge Gaylor entered noisily. Instinctively the man and girl + moved nearer together, and upon the intruder Winthrop turned angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he demanded sharply. “I thought you had finished your talk,” + protested the Judge. “Mr. Hallowell is anxious to begin.” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop turned and looked at Vera steadily. For an instant the eyes of + the girl faltered, and then she returned his glance with one as resolute + as his own. As though accepting her verdict as final, Winthrop walked + quickly to the door. “I shall be downstairs,” he said, “when this is over, + let me know.” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor struggled to conceal his surprise and satisfaction. “You won’t be + here for the seance?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” cried Winthrop. “I—” He broke off suddenly. Without + again looking toward Vera, or trying to hide his displeasure, he left the + room. + </p> + <p> + Gaylor turned to the girl. He was smiling with relief. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” he muttered. “Excellent! What was he saying to you,” he asked + eagerly, “as I came in—that you would fail?” + </p> + <p> + The girl moved past him to the door. “Yes,” she answered dully. + </p> + <p> + “But you will not!” cried the man. “We’re all counting on you, you know. + Destroy the old will. Sign the new will,” he quoted. He came close to her + and whispered. “That means thousands of dollars to you and Vance,” he + urged. + </p> + <p> + The girl turned and regarded him with unhappy, angry eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You need not be frightened,” she answered. For the man before her and for + herself, her voice was bitter with contempt and self-accusation. “Mr. + Winthrop is mistaken. He does not know me,” she said miserably. “I shall + not fail.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment, after she had left him, Gaylor stood motionless, his eyes + filled with concern, and then, with a shrug, as though accepting either + good or evil fortune, he called from the bedroom Mr. Hallowell, and, from + the floor below, the guests of Hallowell and of Vance. + </p> + <p> + As Hallowell, supported by Rainey, sank into the invalid’s chair in the + centre of the semicircle, Gaylor made his final appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” he begged, “are you sure you’re feeling strong enough? Won’t + some other night—” The old man interrupted him querulously. + </p> + <p> + “No, now! I want it over,” he commanded. “Who knows,” he complained, “how + soon it may be before—” + </p> + <p> + The sight of Mannie entering the room with Vance caused him to interrupt + himself abruptly. He greeted the showman with a curt nod. + </p> + <p> + “And who is this?” he demanded. Mannie, to whom a living millionaire was + much more of a disturbing spectacle than the ghost of Alexander the Great, + retreated hastily behind Vance. + </p> + <p> + “He is my assistant,” Vance explained. “He furnishes the music.” He pushed + Mannie toward the organ. + </p> + <p> + “Music!” growled Hallowell. “Must there be music?” + </p> + <p> + “It is indispensable,” protested Vance. “Music, sir, is one of the + strongest psychic influences. It—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Hallowell. + </p> + <p> + “Tricks,” he muttered, “tricks!” + </p> + <p> + Vance shrugged his shoulders, and smiled in deprecation. “I am sorry to + find you in a skeptical mood, Mr. Hallowell,” he murmured reprovingly “It + will hardly help to produce good results. Allow me,” he begged, “to + present two true believers.” + </p> + <p> + With a wave of the hand he beckoned forward a stout, gray-haired woman + with bulging, near-sighted eyes that rolled meaninglessly behind heavy + gold spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Marsh of Lynn, Massachusetts,” proclaimed Vance, “of whom you have + heard. Mrs. Marsh,” he added, “is probably the first medium in America. + The results she has obtained are quite wonderful. She alone foretold the + San Francisco earthquake, and the run on the Long Acre Square Bank.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to know you,” said Mr. Hallowell. “Pardon my not rising.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady curtsied obsequiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly, Mr. Hallowell,” she protested. “Mr. Hallowell,” she went + on, rolling the name delightedly on her tongue, “I need not tell you how + greatly we spiritualists rejoice over your joining the ranks of the + believers.” + </p> + <p> + Hallowell nodded. He was not altogether unimpressed. “Thanks,” he + commented dryly. “But I am not quite there yet, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “We hope,” said Vance sententiously, “to convince Mr. Hallowell tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am sure, Mr. Hallowell,” cried the old lady, “if any one can do it, + little Miss Vera can. Hers is a wonderful gift, sir, a wonderful gift!” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you say so,” returned Hallowell. + </p> + <p> + He nodded to her in dismissal, and turned to the next visitor. “And this + gentleman?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Professor Strombergk,” announced Vance, “the distinguished writer on + psychic and occult subjects, editor of The World Beyond.” + </p> + <p> + A tall, full-bearded German, in a too-short frock coat, bowed awkwardly. + Upon him, as upon Mannie, had fallen the spell of the Hallowell fortune. + He, who chatted familiarly with departed popes and emperors, who daily was + in communication with Goethe, Caesar, and Epictetus, thrilled with + embarrassment before the man who had made millions from a coupling pin. + </p> + <p> + “And Helen!” Mr. Hallowell cried, as Miss Coates followed the Professor. + “That is all, is it not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Miss Coates moved aside to disclose the person of the reporter from the + Republic, Homer Lee. + </p> + <p> + “I have taken you at your word, uncle,” she said, “and have brought a + friend with me.” In some trepidation she added; “He is Mr. Lee, a reporter + from the Republic.” + </p> + <p> + “A reporter!” exclaimed Mr. Hallowell. Disturbed and yet amused at the + audacity of his niece, he shook his head reprovingly. “I don’t think I + meant reporters,” he remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + “You said in your note,” returned his niece, “that as I had so much at + stake, I could bring any one I pleased, and the less he believed in + spiritualism, the better. Mr. Lee,” she added dryly, “believes even less + than I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it will be all the more of a triumph, if we convince him,” declared + Hallowell. “Understand, young man,” he proclaimed loudly, “I am not a + spiritualist. I am merely conducting an investigation. I want the truth. + If you, or my niece, detect any fraud tonight, I want to know it.” + Including in his speech the others in the room, he glared suspiciously in + turn at each. “Keep your eyes open,” he ordered, “you will be serving me + quite as much as you will Miss Coates.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Coates and Lee thanked him and, recognizing themselves as the + opposition and in the minority, withdrew for consultation into a corner of + the bay window. + </p> + <p> + Vance approached Mr. Hallowell. + </p> + <p> + “If you are ready,” he said, “we will examine the cabinet. Shall I wheel + it over here, or will you look at it where it is?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is to be in that corner during the seance,” declared Mr. Hallowell, + “I’ll look at it where it is.” + </p> + <p> + As he struggled from his chair, he turned to Mrs. Marsh, and nodded his + head knowingly. “You see, Mrs. Marsh,” he said, “I am taking no chances.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite right, Mr. Hallowell,” purred the old lady. “If there be + any doubt in your mind, you must get rid of it, or we will have no + results.” + </p> + <p> + With a dramatic gesture, Vance swept aside from the opening in the cabinet + the black velvet curtain. “It’s a simple affair,” he said indifferently. + “As you see, it’s open at the top and bottom. The medium sits inside on + that chair, bound hand and foot.” + </p> + <p> + In turn, Mr. Hallowell, Mrs. Marsh, Gaylor, Rainey, Professor Strombergk + entered the cabinet. With their knuckles they beat upon its sides. They + moved it to and fro. They dropped to their knees, and with their fingers + tugged at the carpet upon which it stood. + </p> + <p> + Under cover of their questions, in the corner of the bay window, Miss + Coates whispered to Lee; “Don’t look now,” she warned, “but later, you + will see on the left of that door the switch that throws on the lights. + When I am sure she is outside the cabinet, when she has told him not to + give the money to me, I’ll cry now! and whichever one of us is seated + nearer the switch will turn on all the lights. I think,” Miss Coates added + with, in her voice, a thrill of triumph not altogether free from a touch + of vindictiveness, “when my uncle sees her caught in the middle of the + room, disguised as his sister—we will have cured him.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + The possibility of success as Miss Coates pointed it out did not appear to + stir in him any great delight. He glanced unwillingly over his shoulder. + “I see the switch,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Leaning on the arm of Gaylor, Mr. Hallowell returned from the cabinet to + his chair. What he had seen apparently strengthened his faith and, in like + degree, inspired him to greater enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he exclaimed, “there are no trapdoors or false bottoms about that! + If they can project a spirit from that sentry box, it will be a miracle. + For whom are we waiting?” he asked impatiently. “Where is Winthrop?” + </p> + <p> + Judge Gaylor explained that Winthrop preferred to wait downstairs, and + that he had said he would remain there until the seance was finished. + </p> + <p> + “Afraid of compromising his position,” commented the old man. “I’m sorry. + I’d like to have him here.” He motioned Gaylor to bend nearer. In a voice + that trembled with eagerness and excitement, he whispered: “Henry, I have + a feeling that we are going to witness a remarkable phenomenon.” + </p> + <p> + Gaylor’s countenance grew preternaturally grave. He nodded heavily. + </p> + <p> + “I have the same feeling, Stephen,” he returned. + </p> + <p> + Vance raised his hand to command silence. + </p> + <p> + “Every one,” he called, “except the committee, who are to bind and tie the + medium, will take the place I give him, and remain in it. Mr. Day will + please acquaint Miss Vera and Mrs. Vance with the fact that we are ready.” + </p> + <p> + Up to this point Vance had appeared only as a stage manager. He had been + concerned with his groupings, his lights, in assigning to his confederates + the parts they were to play. Now that the curtain was to rise, as an actor + puts on a wig and grease paint, Vance assumed a certain voice and manner. + On the stage the critics would have called him a convincing actor. He made + his audience believe what he believed. He knew the eloquence of a pause, + the value of a surprised, unintelligible exclamation. One moment he was as + professionally solemn as a “funeral director;” the next, his voice, his + whole frame, would shake with excitement, in an outburst of fanatic + fervor. As it pleased him he could play Hamlet, tenderly shocked at the + sight of his dead father, or Macbeth, retreating in horror before the + ghost of Banquo. For the moment his manner was that of the undertaker. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Hallowell,” he said hoarsely, “please to name those you wish to + serve on the committee.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hallowell waved his arm to include every one in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody will serve on the committee,” he declared. “Everything is to be + open and above-board. The whole city is welcome on the committee. I want + this to be above suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my wish, also, sir,” said Vance stiffly. “But a committee of more + than three is unwieldy. Suppose you name two gentlemen and I one? Or,” he + shrugged his shoulders, “you can name all three.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment of consideration Mr. Hallowell pointed at Lee. “I choose + Mr.—that young man,” he announced, “and Judge Gaylor.” + </p> + <p> + “I would much rather not, Stephen,” Judge Gaylor whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I know, Henry,” answered the other. “But I ask it of you. It will give me + confidence.” He turned to Vance. “You select some one,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + With a bow, Vance designated the tall German. + </p> + <p> + “Will Professor Strombergk be acceptable?” he asked. Mr. Hallowell nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then, the three gentlemen chosen will please come to the cabinet.” + </p> + <p> + Vance, his manner now that of a master of ceremonies, assigned to each + person the seat he or she was to occupy. Miss Coates with satisfaction + noted that only Mrs. Vance separated Lee from the electric switch. + </p> + <p> + “I must ask you,” said Vance, “to keep the sears I have assigned to you. + With us tonight are both favorable and unfavorable influences. And what I + have tried to do in placing you, is to obtain the best psychic results.” + He moved to the door and looked into the hall, then turned, and with + uplifted arm silently demanded attention. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vera,” he announced. Followed closely, like respectful courtiers, by + Mannie and Mrs. Vance, Vera appeared in the doorway, walked a few feet + into the room, and stood motionless. As though already in a trance, she + moved slowly, without volition, like a somnambulist. Her head was held + high, but her eyes were dull and unseeing. Her arms hung limply. She wore + an evening gown of soft black stuff, that clung to her like a lace shawl, + and which left her throat and arms bare. In spite of the clash of + interests, of antagonism, of mutual distrust, there was no one present to + whom the sight of the young girl did not bring an uneasy thrill. The + nature of the thing she proposed to do, contrasted with the loveliness of + her face, which seemed to mock at the possibility of deceit; something in + her rapt, distant gaze, in the dignity of her uplifted head, in her air of + complete detachment from her surroundings, caused even the most skeptical + to question if she might not possess the power she claimed, to feel for a + moment the approach of the supernatural. + </p> + <p> + The voices of the committee, consulting together, dropped suddenly to a + whisper; the others were instantly silent. + </p> + <p> + In his arms Mannie carried silken scarfs, cords, and ropes. In each hand + he held a teacup. One contained flour, the other shot. Vance took these + from him, and Mannie hurriedly slipped into his chair in front of the + organ. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” explained Vance, “you will use these ropes and scarfs to tie + the medium. Also, as a further precaution against the least suspicion of + fraud, we will subject her to the most severe test known. In one hand she + will hold this flour; the other will be filled with shot. This will make + it impossible for her to tamper with the ropes.” + </p> + <p> + He gave the two cups to Gaylor, and turned to Vera. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” he asked. After a pause, the girl slightly inclined her + head. Lee, with one of the scarfs in his hand, approached her diffidently. + He looked unhappily at the slight, girlish figure, at the fair white arms. + In his embarrassment he appealed to Vance. + </p> + <p> + “How would you suggest?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Vance, apparently shocked, hastily drew away. “That would be most + irregular,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + Apologetically Lee turned to the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind putting your arms behind you?” he asked. He laced the + scarf around her arms, and drew it tightly to her wrists. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmured, but the girl made no answer. To what + was going forward she appeared as unmindful as though she were an artist’s + manikin. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take these now?” asked Gaylor, and into her open palms he poured + the flour and shot. “And, now,” continued Lee, “will you go into the + cabinet?” As she seated herself, he knelt in front of her and bound her + ankles. From behind her Strombergk deftly wound the ropes about her body + and through the rungs and back of the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind seeing if you can withdraw your arms?” Lee asked. The girl + raised her shoulders, struggled to free her hands, and tried to rise. But + the efforts were futile. + </p> + <p> + “Are the gentlemen satisfied?” demanded Vance. The three men, who had + shown but little heart in the work, and who were now red and embarrassed, + hastily answered in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “If you are satisfied the ropes are securely fastened,” Vance continued, + “you will take your seats.” Professor Strombergk, as he moved to his + chair, announced in devout, solemn tones; “Nothing but spirit hands can + move those ropes now.” + </p> + <p> + From the organ rose softly the prelude to a Moody and Sankey hymn, and, in + keeping with the music, the voice of Vance sank to a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “We will now,” he said, “establish the magnetic chain. Each person will + take with his right hand the left wrist of the person on his or her + right.” He paused while this order was being carried into effect. + </p> + <p> + “Before I turn out the lights,” he continued, “I wish to say a last word + to any skeptic who may be present. I warn him that any attempt to lay + violent hands upon the apparition, or spirit, may cost the medium her + life. From the cabinet the medium projects the spirit into the circle. An + attack upon the spirit, is an attack upon the medium. There are three or + four well-authenticated cases where the disembodied spirit was cut off + from the cabinet, and the medium died.” + </p> + <p> + He drew the velvet curtains across the cabinet, and shut Vera from view. + “Are you ready, Mr. Hallowell?” he asked. Mr. Hallowell, his eyes staring, + his lips parted, nodded his head. The music grew louder. Vance switched + off the lights. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes, except for the creaking of the pedals of the organ and + the low throb of the music, there was no sound. Then, from his position at + the open door, the voice of Vance commanded sternly: “No whispering, + please. The medium is susceptible to the least sound.” There was another + longer pause, until in hushed expectant tones Vance spoke again. “The air + is very heavily charged with electricity tonight,” he said, “you, Mrs. + Marsh, should feel that?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, Professor,” murmured the medium, “I do. We shall have some + wonderful results!” + </p> + <p> + Vance agreed with her solemnly. “I feel influences all about me,” he + murmured. + </p> + <p> + There came suddenly from the cabinet three sharp raps. These were + instantly answered by other quick rappings upon the library table. “They + are beginning!” chanted the voice of Vance. The music of the organ ceased. + It was at once followed by the notes of a guitar that seemed to float in + space, the strings vibrating, not as though touched by human hands, but in + fitful, meaningless chords like those of an Aeolian harp. + </p> + <p> + “That is Kiowa, your control, Mrs. Marsh,” announced Vance eagerly. “Do + you desire to speak to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not tonight,” Mrs. Marsh answered. She raised her voice. “Not tonight, + Kiowa,” she repeated. “Thank you for coming. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + In deep, guttural accents, a man’s voice came from the ceiling. “Good + night,” it called. With a final, ringing wail, the music of the guitar + suddenly ceased. + </p> + <p> + Again rose the swelling low notes of the organ. Above it came the quick + pattering of footsteps. + </p> + <p> + The voice of Rainey, filled with alarm, cried, “some one touched me!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure your hands are held?” demanded Vance reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” panted Rainey, “both of them. But something put its hand on my + forehead. It was cold.” + </p> + <p> + In an excited whisper, a voice in the circle cried, “Look, look!” and + before the eyes of all, a star rose in the darkness. For a moment it + wavered over the cabinet and then fluttered swiftly across the room and + remained stationary above the head of the German Professor. + </p> + <p> + “There is your star, Professor,” cried Vance. “When the Professor is in + the circle,” he announced proudly, “that star always appears.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a startled exclamation from Lee. + </p> + <p> + “Something touched my face,” explained the young man apologetically, “and + spoke to me.” + </p> + <p> + The music sank to a murmur, and the room became alive with swift, rushing + sounds and soft whisperings. + </p> + <p> + The voice of Mrs. Marsh, low and eager, could be heard appealing to an + invisible presence. + </p> + <p> + “The results are marvelous,” chanted Vance, “marvelous! The medium is + showing wonderful power. If any one desires to ask a question, he should + do so now. The conditions will never be better.” He paused expectantly. + “Mr. Hallowell,” he prompted, “is it your wish to communicate with any one + in the spirit world?” + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause, and then the voice of Mr. Hallowell, harsh and + shaken, answered, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” demanded Vance. + </p> + <p> + There was again another longer pause, and then, above the confusion of + soft whisperings, the voice of the old man rose in sharp staccato; “My + sister, Catherine Coates.” His tone hardened, became obdurate, final. + “But, I must see her, and hear her speak!” + </p> + <p> + Not for an instant did Vance hesitate. In tense, sepulchral tones, he + demanded of the darkness, “Is the spirit of Catherine Coates present?” + </p> + <p> + The whisperings and murmurs ceased. The silence of the room was broken + sharply by three quick raps. “Yes,” intoned Vance, “she is present.” + </p> + <p> + The voice of Hallowell protested fiercely. “I won’t have that! I want to + see her!” + </p> + <p> + In the tone of an incantation, Vance spoke again. “Will the spirit show + herself to her brother?” The raps came quickly, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “She answers she will appear before you.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment that seemed to stretch interminably, and then, the eyes + of all, straining in the darkness, saw against the black velvet curtain a + splash of white. + </p> + <p> + Above the sobbing of the organ, the voice of Mr. Hallowell rang out in a + sharp exclamation of terror. “Who is that!” he demanded. He spoke as + though he dreaded the answer. He threw himself forward in his chair, + peering into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Kate?” he whispered. His voice was both incredulous and + pleading. + </p> + <p> + The answer came in feeble, trembling tones. “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The voice of Hallowell shook with eagerness. “Do you know me, your + brother, Stephen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + With a cry the old man fell back, groping blindly. He found Gaylor’s arm + and clutched it with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “My God! It’s Kate!” he gasped. “I tell you, Henry, it is Kate!” + </p> + <p> + The voice of Vance, deep and hollow like a bell, sounded a note of + warning. “Speak quickly,” he commanded. “Her time on earth is brief.” Mr. + Hallowell’s hold upon the arm of his friend relaxed. Fearfully and slowly, + he bent forward. + </p> + <p> + “Kate!” he pleaded; “I must ask you a question. No one else can tell me.” + As though gathering courage, he paused, and, with a frightened sigh, again + began. “I am an old man,” he murmured, “a sick man. I will be joining you + very soon, what am I to do with my money? I have made great plans to give + it to the poor. Or, must I give it, as I have given it in my will, to + Helen? Perhaps I did not act fairly to you and Helen. You know what I + mean. She would be rich, but then the poor would be that much the poorer.” + The confidence of the speaker was increasing; as though to a living being, + he argued and pleaded. “And I want to do some good before I go. What shall + I do? Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause that lasted so long that those who had held their breath + to listen, again breathed deeply. When the answer came, it was strangely + deprecatory, uncertain, unassured. + </p> + <p> + “You,” stammered the voice, “you must have courage to do what you know to + be just!” + </p> + <p> + For a brief moment, as though surprised, Mr. Hallowell apparently + considered this, and then gave an exclamation of disappointment and + distress. + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t know,” he protested, “that is why I called on you. I want to + go into the next world, Kate,” he pleaded, “with clean hands!” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot bribe your way into the next world,” intoned the voice. “If + you pity the poor, you must help the poor, not that you may cheat your way + into heaven, but that they may suffer less. Search your conscience. Have + the courage of your conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to consult my conscience,” cried the old man. “I want you to + tell me.” He paused, hesitating. Eager to press his question, his awe of + the apparition still restrained him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Kate?” he begged. “Am I to give the money where it will + do the most good—to the Hallowell Institute, or am I to give it to + Helen? Which am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + There was another long silence, and then the voice stammered; “If—if + you have wronged me, or my daughter, or the poor, you must make + restitution.” + </p> + <p> + The hand of the old man was heard to fall heavily upon the arm of his + chair. His voice rose unhappily. + </p> + <p> + “That is no answer, Kate!” he cried. “Did you come from the dead to preach + to me? Tell me—what am I to do—leave my money to Helen, or to + the Institute?” + </p> + <p> + The cry of the old man vibrated in the air. No voice rose to answer. + “Kate!” he entreated. Still there was silence. “Speak to me!” he + commanded. The silence became eloquent with momentous possibilities. So + long did it endure, that the pain of the suspense was actual. The voice of + Rainey, choked and hoarse with fear, broke it with an exclamation that + held the sound of an oath. He muttered thickly, “What in the name of—” + </p> + <p> + He was hushed by a swift chorus of hisses. The voice of Hallowell was + again uplifted. + </p> + <p> + “Why won’t she answer me?” he begged hysterically of Vance. “Can’t you—can’t + the medium make her speak?” + </p> + <p> + During the last few moments the music from the organ had come brokenly. + The hands upon the keys moved unsteadily, drunkenly. Now they halted + altogether and in the middle of a chord the music sank and died. Upon the + now absolute silence the voice of Vance, when he spoke, sounded strangely + unfamiliar. It had lost the priest-like intonation. Its confidence had + departed. It showed bewilderment and alarm. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don’t understand,” stammered the showman. “Ask her again. Put + your question differently.” + </p> + <p> + Carefully, slowly, giving each word its value, Mr. Hallowell raised his + voice in entreaty. + </p> + <p> + “Kate,” he cried, “I have made a new will, leaving the money to the poor. + The old will gives it to Helen. Shall I sign the new will or not? Shall I + give the money to Helen, or the Institute? Answer me! Yes or no.” + </p> + <p> + Before the eyes of all, the apparition, as though retreating to the + cabinet, swayed backward, then staggered forward. There was a sob, human, + heart-broken, a cry, thrilling with distress; a tumult of weeping, fierce + and uncontrollable. + </p> + <p> + They saw the figure tear away the white kerchief and cap, and trample them + upon the floor. They saw the figure hold itself erect. From it, the voice + of Vera cried aloud, in despair. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t! I can’t!” she sobbed. “It’s a lie! I am not your sister! Turn on + the lights,” the girl cried. “Turn on the lights!” + </p> + <p> + There was a crash of upturned chairs, the sound of men struggling, and the + room was swept with light. In the doorway Winthrop was holding apart Vance + and the reporter. + </p> + <p> + In the centre of the room stood Vera, her head bent in shame, her body + shaken and trembling, her hair streaming to her waist. + </p> + <p> + As though to punish herself, by putting a climax to her humiliation, she + held out her arms to Helen Coates. “You see,” she cried, “I am a cheat. I + am a fraud!” She sank suddenly to her knees in front of Mr. Hallowell. + “Forgive me,” she sobbed, “forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + With a cry of angry protest, Winthrop ran to her and lifted her to her + feet. His eyes were filled with pity. But in the eyes of Mr. Hallowell + there was no promise of pardon. With sudden strength he struggled to his + feet and stood swaying, challenging those before him. His face was white + with anger, his jaw closed against mercy. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve lied to me!” he cried. “You’ve tried to rob me!” He swept the room + with his eyes. With a flash of intuition, he saw the trap they had laid + for him. “All of you!” he screamed. “It’s a plot!” He shook his fist at + the weeping girl. “And you!” he shouted hysterically, “the law shall + punish you!” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop drew the girl to him and put his arm about her. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do the punishing here,” he said. + </p> + <p> + With a glad, welcoming cry, the old man turned to him appealingly, wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you!” he shouted, “you punish them! She plotted to get my money.” + </p> + <p> + The girl at Winthrop’s side shivered, and shrank from him. He drew her + back roughly and held her close. The sobs that shook her tore at his + heart; the touch of the sinking, trembling body in his arms filled him + with fierce, jubilant thoughts of keeping the girl there always, of giving + battle for her, of sheltering her against the world. In what she had done + he saw only a sacrifice. In her he beheld only a penitent, who was + self-accused and self-convicted. + </p> + <p> + He heard the voice of the old man screaming vindictively, “She plotted to + get my money!” + </p> + <p> + Winthrop turned upon him savagely. + </p> + <p> + “How did she plot to get it?” he retorted fiercely. “You know, and I know. + I know how your lawyer, your doctor, your servant plotted to get it!” His + voice rose and rang with indignation. “You all plotted, and you all + schemed—and to what end—what was the result?”—he held + before them the fainting figure of the girl—“That one poor child + could prove she was honest!” + </p> + <p> + With his arms still about her, and her hands clinging to him, he moved + with her quickly to the door. When they had reached the silence of the + hall, he took her hands in his, and looked into her eyes. “Now,” he + commanded, “you shall come to my sisters!” + </p> + <p> + The waiting car carried them swiftly up the avenue. Their way lay through + the park, and the warm, mid-summer air was heavy with the odor of plants + and shrubs. Above them the trees drooped deep with leaves. Vera, crouched + in a corner, had not spoken. Her eyes were hidden in her hands. But when + they had entered the silent reaches of the park she lowered them and the + face she lifted to Winthrop was pale and wet with tears. The man thought + never before had he seen it more lovely or more lovable. Vera shook her + head dumbly and looked up at him with a troubled smile. + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” she murmured remorsefully, “you’d be sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t know that yet,” said Winthrop gently, “we’ll have all the rest + of our lives to find that out.” + </p> + <p> + Startled, the girl drew back. In her face was wonder, amazement, a dawning + happiness. + </p> + <p> + Without speaking, Winthrop looked at her, entreatingly, pitifully, + beseeching her with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Slowly the girl bent forward and, as he threw out his arms, with a little + sigh of rest and content she crept into them and pressed her face to his. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vera, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERA *** + +***** This file should be named 1843-h.htm or 1843-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/1843/ + +Produced by Jeetender B. 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