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diff --git a/old/20533-8.txt b/old/20533-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..197881e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/20533-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15377 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Jill the Reckless, by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse + +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: Jill the Reckless + +Author: P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse + +Release Date: February 6, 2007 [EBook #20533] +[Last updated: November 10, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JILL THE RECKLESS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + JILL THE + RECKLESS + + + + BY + + P. G. WODEHOUSE + + + + + + + HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED + + 3 DUKE OF YORK STREET + + ST. JAMES'S, LONDON, S.W. 1 + + * * * * * + + + + +TO + +MY WIFE + +BLESS HER + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + + I. THE FAMILY CURSE + II. THE FIRST NIGHT AT THE LEICESTER + III. JILL AND THE UNKNOWN ESCAPE + IV. THE LAST OF THE ROOKES TAKES A HAND + V. LADY UNDERHILL RECEIVES A SHOCK + VI. UNCLE CHRIS BANGS THE TABLE + VII. JILL CATCHES THE 10.10 + VIII. THE DRY-SALTERS WING DEREK + IX. JILL IN SEARCH OF AN UNCLE + X. JILL IGNORES AUTHORITY + XI. MR. PILKINGTON'S LOVE LIGHT + XII. UNCLE CHRIS BORROWS A FLAT + XIII. THE AMBASSADOR ARRIVES + XIV. MR. GOBLE MAKES THE BIG NOISE + XV. JILL EXPLAINS + XVI. MR. GOBLE PLAYS WITH FATE + XVII. THE COST OF A ROW +XVIII. JILL RECEIVES NOTICE + XIX. MRS. PEAGRIM BURNS INCENSE + XX. DEREK LOSES ONE BIRD AND SECURES ANOTHER + XXI. WALLY MASON LEARNS A NEW EXERCISE + + * * * * * + + + + +JILL THE RECKLESS + +CHAPTER I + +THE FAMILY CURSE + +I + + +Freddie Rooke gazed coldly at the breakfast-table. Through a gleaming +eye-glass he inspected the revolting object which Barker, his faithful +man, had placed on a plate before him. + +"Barker!" His voice had a ring of pain. + +"Sir?" + +"What's this?" + +"Poached egg, sir." + +Freddie averted his eyes with a silent shudder. + +"It looks just like an old aunt of mine," he said. "Remove it!" + +He got up, and, wrapping his dressing-gown about his long legs, took +up a stand in front of the fireplace. From this position he surveyed +the room, his shoulders against the mantelpiece, his calves pressing +the club fender. It was a cheerful oasis in a chill and foggy world, a +typical London bachelor's breakfast-room. The walls were a restful +grey, and the table, set for two, a comfortable arrangement in white +and silver. + +"Eggs, Barker," said Freddie solemnly, "are the acid test!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"If, on the morning after, you can tackle a poached egg, you are all +right. If not, not. And don't let anybody tell you otherwise." + +"No, sir." + +Freddie pressed the palm of his hand to his brow, and sighed. + +"It would seem, then, that I must have revelled a trifle +whole-heartedly last night. I was possibly a little blotto. Not +whiffled, perhaps, but indisputably blotto. Did I make much noise +coming in?" + +"No, sir. You were very quiet." + +"Ah! A dashed bad sign!" + +Freddie moved to the table, and poured himself a cup of coffee. + +"The cream jug is to your right, sir," said the helpful Barker. + +"Let it remain there. _Café noir_ for me this morning. As _noir_ as it +can jolly well stick!" Freddie retired to the fireplace and sipped +delicately. "As far as I can remember, it was Ronny Devereux' birthday +or something...." + +"Mr. Martyn's, I think you said, sir." + +"That's right. Algy Martyn's birthday, and Ronny and I were the +guests. It all comes back to me. I wanted Derek to roll along and join +the festivities--he's never met Ronny--but he gave it a miss. Quite +right! A chap in his position has responsibilities. Member of +Parliament and all that. Besides," said Freddie earnestly, driving +home the point with a wave of his spoon, "he's engaged to be married. +You must remember that, Barker!" + +"I will endeavour to, sir." + +"Sometimes," said Freddie dreamily, "I wish I were engaged to be +married. Sometimes I wish I had some sweet girl to watch over me +and.... No, I don't, by Jove. It would give me the utter pip! Is Sir +Derek up yet, Barker?" + +"Getting up, sir." + +"See that everything is all right, will you? I mean as regards the +food-stuffs and what not. I want him to make a good breakfast. He's +got to meet his mother this morning at Charing Cross. She's legging it +back from the Riviera." + +"Indeed, sir?" + +Freddie shook his head. + +"You wouldn't speak in that light, careless tone if you knew her! +Well, you'll see her to-night. She's coming here to dinner." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Miss Mariner will be here, too. A foursome. Tell Mrs. Barker to pull +up her socks and give us something pretty ripe. Soup, fish, all that +sort of thing. _She_ knows. And let's have a stoup of malvoisie from +the oldest bin. This is a special occasion!" + +"Her ladyship will be meeting Miss Mariner for the first time, sir?" + +"You've put your finger on it! Absolutely the first time on this or +any stage! We must all rally round and make the thing a success." + +"I am sure Mrs. Barker will strain every nerve, sir." Barker moved to +the door, carrying the rejected egg, and stepped aside to allow a +tall, well-built man of about thirty to enter. "Good morning, Sir +Derek." + +"Morning, Barker." + +Barker slid softly from the room. Derek Underhill sat down at the +table. He was a strikingly handsome man, with a strong, forceful face, +dark, lean and cleanly shaven. He was one of those men whom a stranger +would instinctively pick out of a crowd as worthy of note. His only +defect was that his heavy eyebrows gave him at times an expression +which was a little forbidding. Women, however, had never been repelled +by it. He was very popular with women, not quite so popular with +men--always excepting Freddie Rooke, who worshipped him. They had been +at school together, though Freddie was the younger by several years. + +"Finished, Freddie?" asked Derek. + +Freddie smiled wanly. + +"We are not breakfasting this morning," he replied. "The spirit was +willing, but the jolly old flesh would have none of it. To be +perfectly frank, the Last of the Rookes has a bit of a head." + +"Ass!" said Derek. + +"A bit of sympathy," said Freddie, pained, "would not be out of place. +We are far from well. Some person unknown has put a threshing-machine +inside the old bean and substituted a piece of brown paper for our +tongue. Things look dark and yellow and wobbly!" + +"You shouldn't have overdone it last night." + +"It was Algy Martyn's birthday," pleaded Freddie. + +"If I were an ass like Algy Martyn," said Derek, "I wouldn't go about +advertising the fact that I'd been born. I'd hush it up!" + +He helped himself to a plentiful portion of kedgeree, Freddie watching +him with repulsion mingled with envy. When he began to eat the +spectacle became too poignant for the sufferer, and he wandered to the +window. + +"What a beast of a day!" + +It was an appalling day. January, that grim month, was treating London +with its usual severity. Early in the morning a bank of fog had rolled +up off the river, and was deepening from pearly white to a lurid +brown. It pressed on the window-pane like a blanket, leaving dark, +damp rivulets on the glass. + +"Awful!" said Derek, + +"Your mater's train will be late." + +"Yes. Damned nuisance. It's bad enough meeting trains in any case, +without having to hang about a draughty station for an hour." + +"And it's sure, I should imagine," went on Freddie, pursuing his train +of thought, "to make the dear old thing pretty tolerably ratty, if she +has one of those slow journeys." He pottered back to the fireplace, +and rubbed his shoulders reflectively against the mantelpiece. "I take +it that you wrote to her about Jill?" + +"Of course. That's why she's coming over, I suppose. By the way, you +got those seats for that theatre to-night?" + +"Yes. Three together and one somewhere on the outskirts. If it's all +the same to you, old thing, I'll have the one on the outskirts." + +Derek, who had finished his kedgeree and was now making himself a blot +on Freddie's horizon with toast and marmalade, laughed. + +"What a rabbit you are, Freddie! Why on earth are you so afraid of +mother?" + +Freddie looked at him as a timid young squire might have gazed upon +St. George when the latter set out to do battle with the dragon. He +was of the amiable type which makes heroes of its friends. In the old +days when he had fagged for him at Winchester he had thought Derek the +most wonderful person in the world, and this view he still retained. +Indeed, subsequent events had strengthened it. Derek had done the most +amazing things since leaving school. He had had a brilliant career at +Oxford, and now, in the House of Commons, was already looked upon by +the leaders of his party as one to be watched and encouraged. He +played polo superlatively well, and was a fine shot. But of all his +gifts and qualities the one that extorted Freddie's admiration in its +intensest form was his lion-like courage as exemplified by his +behaviour in the present crisis. There he sat, placidly eating toast +and marmalade, while the boat-train containing Lady Underhill already +sped on its way from Dover to London. It was like Drake playing bowls +with the Spanish Armada in sight. + +"I wish I had your nerve!" he said awed. "What I should be feeling, if +I were in your place and had to meet your mater after telling her that +I was engaged to marry a girl she had never seen, I don't know. I'd +rather face a wounded tiger!" + +"Idiot!" said Derek placidly. + +"Not," pursued Freddie, "that I mean to say anything in the least +derogatory and so forth to your jolly old mater, if you understand me, +but the fact remains she scares me pallid. Always has, ever since the +first time I went to stay at your place when I was a kid. I can still +remember catching her eye the morning I happened by pure chance to +bung an apple through her bedroom window, meaning to let a cat on the +sill below have it in the short ribs. She was at least thirty feet +away, but, by Jove, it stopped me like a bullet!" + +"Push the bell, old man, will you? I want some more toast." + +Freddie did as he was requested, with growing admiration. + +"The condemned man made an excellent breakfast," he murmured. "More +toast, Barker," he added, as that admirable servitor opened the door. +"Gallant! That's what I call it. Gallant!" + +Derek tilted his chair back. + +"Mother is sure to like Jill when she sees her," he said. + +"_When_ she sees her! Ah! But the trouble is, young feller-me-lad, +that she _hasn't_ seen her! That's the weak spot in your case, old +companion. A month ago she didn't know of Jill's existence. Now, you +know and I know that Jill is one of the best and brightest. As far as +we are concerned, everything in the good old garden is lovely. Why, +dash it, Jill and I were children together. Sported side by side on +the green, and what not. I remember Jill, when she was twelve, turning +the garden hose on me and knocking about seventy-five per cent off the +market value of my best Sunday suit. That sort of thing forms a bond, +you know, and I've always felt that she was a corker. But your +mater's got to discover it for herself. It's a dashed pity, by Jove, +that Jill hasn't a father or a mother or something of that species to +rally round just now. They would form a gang. There's nothing like a +gang! But she's only got that old uncle of hers. A rummy bird. Met +him?" + +"Several times. I like him." + +"Oh, he's a genial old buck all right. A very bonhomous lad. But you +hear some pretty queer stories about him if you get among people who +knew him in the old days. Even now I'm not so dashed sure I should +care to play cards with him. Young Threepwood was telling me only the +other day that the old boy took thirty quid off him at picquet as +clean as a whistle. And Jimmy Monroe, who's on the Stock Exchange, +says he's frightfully busy these times buying margins or whatever it +is chappies do down in the City. Margins. That's the word. Jimmy made +me buy some myself on a thing called Amalgamated Dyes. I don't +understand the procedure exactly, but Jimmy says it's a sound egg and +will do me a bit of good. What was I talking about? Oh, yes, old +Selby. There's no doubt he's quite a sportsman. But till you've got +Jill well established, you know, I shouldn't enlarge on him too much +with the mater." + +"On the contrary," said Derek, "I shall mention him at the first +opportunity. He knew my father out in India." + +"Did he, by Jove! Oh, well, that makes a difference." + +Barker entered with the toast, and Derek resumed his breakfast. + +"It may be a little bit awkward," he said, "at first, meeting mother. +But everything will be all right after five minutes." + +"Absolutely! But, oh, boy! that first five minutes!" Freddie gazed +portentously through his eye-glass. Then he seemed to be undergoing +some internal struggle, for he gulped once or twice. "That first five +minutes!" he said, and paused again. A moment's silent self-communion, +and he went on with a rush. "I say, listen. Shall I come along, too?" + +"Come along?" + +"To the station. With you." + +"What on earth for?" + +"To see you through the opening stages. Break the ice, and all that +sort of thing. Nothing like collecting a gang, you know. Moments when +a feller needs a friend and so forth. Say the word, and I'll buzz +along and lend my moral support." + +Derek's heavy eyebrows closed together in an offended frown, and +seemed to darken his whole face. This unsolicited offer of assistance +hurt his dignity. He showed a touch of the petulance which came now +and then when he was annoyed, to suggest that he might not possess so +strong a character as his exterior indicated. + +"It's very kind of you," he began stiffly. + +Freddie nodded. He was acutely conscious of this himself. + +"Some fellows," he observed, "would say 'Not at all!' I suppose. But +not the Last of the Rookes! For, honestly, old man, between ourselves, +I don't mind admitting that this is the bravest deed of the year, and +I'm dashed if I would do it for anyone else." + +"It's very good of you, Freddie...." + +"That's all right. I'm a Boy Scout, and this is my act of kindness for +to-day." + +Derek got up from the table. + +"Of course you mustn't come," he said. "We can't form a sort of +debating society to discuss Jill on the platform at Charing Cross." + +"Oh, I would just hang around in the offing, shoving in an occasional +tactful word." + +"Nonsense!" + +"The wheeze would simply be to...." + +"It's impossible." + +"Oh, very well," said Freddie, damped. "Just as you say, of course. +But there's nothing like a gang, old son, nothing like a gang!" + + +II + +Derek Underhill threw down the stump of his cigar, and grunted +irritably. Inside Charing Cross Station business was proceeding as +usual. Porters wheeling baggage-trucks moved to and fro like +Juggernauts. Belated trains clanked in, glad to get home, while +others, less fortunate, crept reluctantly out through the blackness +and disappeared into an inferno of detonating fog-signals. For outside +the fog still held. The air was cold and raw and tasted coppery. In +the street traffic moved at a funeral pace, to the accompaniment of +hoarse cries and occasional crashes. Once the sun had worked its way +through the murk and had hung in the sky like a great red orange, but +now all was darkness and discomfort again, blended with that odd +suggestion of mystery and romance which is a London fog's only +redeeming quality. + +The fog and the waiting had had their effect upon Derek. The resolute +front he had exhibited to Freddie at the breakfast-table had melted +since his arrival at the station, and he was feeling nervous at the +prospect of the meeting that lay before him. Calm as he had appeared +to the eye of Freddie and bravely as he had spoken, Derek, in the +recesses of his heart, was afraid of his mother. There are men--and +Derek Underhill was one of them--who never wholly emerge from the +nursery. They may put away childish things and rise in the world to +affluence and success, but the hand that rocked their cradle still +rules their lives. + +Derek turned to begin one more walk along the platform, and stopped in +mid-stride, raging. Beaming over the collar of a plaid greatcoat, all +helpfulness and devotion, Freddie Rooke was advancing towards him, the +friend that sticketh closer than a brother. Like some loving dog, who, +ordered home sneaks softly on through alleys and by-ways, peeping +round corners and crouching behind lamp-posts, the faithful Freddie +had followed him after all. And with him, to add the last touch to +Derek's discomfiture, were those two inseparable allies of his, Ronny +Devereux and Algy Martyn. + +"Well, old thing," said Freddie, patting Derek encouragingly on the +shoulder, "here we are after all! I know you told me not to roll round +and so forth, but I knew you didn't mean it. I thought it over after +you had left, and decided it would be a rotten trick not to cluster +about you in your hour of need. I hope you don't mind Ronny and Algy +breezing along too. The fact is, I was in the deuce of a funk--your +jolly old mater always rather paralyses my nerve-centres, you know--so +I roped them in. Met 'em in Piccadilly, groping about for the club, +and conscripted 'em both, they very decently consenting. We all +toddled off and had a pick-me-up at that chemist chappie's at the top +of the Hay-market, and now we're feeling full of beans and buck, +ready for anything. I've explained the whole thing to them, and +they're with you to the death! Collect a gang, dear boy, collect a +gang! That's the motto. There's nothing like it!" + +"Nothing!" said Ronny. + +"Absolutely nothing!" said Algy. + +"We'll just see you through the opening stages," said Freddie, "and +then leg it. We'll keep the conversation general you know." + +"Stop it getting into painful channels," said Ronny. + +"Steer it clear," said Algy, "of the touchy topic." + +"That's the wheeze," said Freddie. "We'll ... Oh, golly! There's the +train coming in now!" His voice quavered, for not even the comforting +presence of his two allies could altogether sustain him in this +ordeal. But he pulled himself together with a manful effort. "Stick +it, old beans!" he said doughtily. "Now is the time for all good men +to come to the aid of the party!" + +"We're here!" said Ronny Devereux. + +"On the spot!" said Algy Martyn. + + +III + +The boat-train slid into the station. Bells rang, engines blew off +steam, porters shouted, baggage-trucks rattled over the platform. The +train began to give up its contents, now in ones and twos, now in a +steady stream. Most of the travellers seemed limp and exhausted, and +were pale with the pallor that comes of a choppy Channel crossing. +Almost the only exception to the general condition of collapse was the +eagle-faced lady in the brown ulster, who had taken up her stand in +the middle of the platform and was haranguing a subdued little maid in +a voice that cut the gloomy air like a steel knife. Like the other +travellers, she was pale, but she bore up resolutely. No one could +have told from Lady Underhill's demeanour that the solid platform +seemed to heave beneath her feet like a deck. + +Derek approached, acutely conscious of Freddie, Ronny, and Algy, who +were skirmishing about his flank. + +"Well, mother! So there you are at last!" + +"Well, Derek!" + +Derek kissed his mother. Freddie, Ronny, and Algy shuffled closer, +like leopards. Freddie, with the expression of one who leads a +forlorn hope, moved his Adam's apple briskly up and down several +times, and spoke. + +"How do you do, Lady Underhill?" + +"How do you do, Mr. Rooke?" + +Lady Underhill bowed stiffly and without pleasure. She was not fond of +the Last of the Rookes. She supposed the Almighty had had some wise +purpose in creating Freddie, but it had always been inscrutable to +her. + +"Like you," mumbled Freddie, "to meet my friends. Lady Underhill. Mr. +Devereux." + +"Charmed," said Ronny affably. + +"Mr. Martyn." + +"Delighted," said Algy with old-world courtesy. + +Lady Underhill regarded this mob-scene with an eye of ice. + +"How do you do?" she said. "Have you come to meet somebody?" + +"I--er--we--er--why--er--" This woman always made Freddie feel as if +he were being disembowelled by some clumsy amateur. He wished that he +had defied the dictates of his better nature and remained in his snug +rooms at the Albany, allowing Derek to go through this business by +himself. "I--er--we--er--came to meet _you_, don't you know!" + +"Indeed! That was very kind of you!" + +"Oh, not at all." + +"Thought we'd welcome you back to the old homestead," said Ronny +beaming. + +"What could be sweeter?" said Algy. He produced a cigar-case, and +extracted a formidable torpedo-shaped Havana. He was feeling +delightfully at his ease, and couldn't understand why Freddie had made +such a fuss about meeting this nice old lady. "Don't mind if I smoke, +do you? Air's a bit raw to-day. Gets into the lungs." + +Derek chafed impotently. These unsought allies were making a difficult +situation a thousand times worse. A more acute observer than young Mr. +Martyn, he noted the tight lines about his mother's mouth and knew +them for the danger-signal they were. Endeavouring to distract her +with light conversation, he selected a subject which was a little +unfortunate. + +"What sort of crossing did you have, mother?" + +Lady Underhill winced. A current of air had sent the perfume of +Algy's cigar playing about her nostrils. She closed her eyes, and her +face turned a shade paler. Freddie, observing this, felt quite sorry +for the poor old thing. She was a pest and a pot of poison, of course, +but all the same, he reflected charitably, it was a shame that she +should look so green about the gills. He came to the conclusion that +she must be hungry. The thing to do was to take her mind off it till +she could be conducted to a restaurant and dumped down in front of a +bowl of soup. + +"Bit choppy, I suppose, what?" he bellowed, in a voice that ran up and +down Lady Underhill's nervous system like an electric needle. "I was +afraid you were going to have a pretty rough time of it when I read +the forecast in the paper. The good old boat wobbled a bit, eh?" + +Lady Underhill uttered a faint moan. Freddie noticed that she was +looking deucedly chippy, even chippier than a moment ago. + +"It's an extraordinary thing about that Channel crossing," said Algy +Martyn meditatively, as he puffed a refreshing cloud. "I've known +fellows who could travel quite happily everywhere else in the +world--round the Horn in sailing-ships and all that sort of +thing--yield up their immortal soul crossing the Channel! Absolutely +yield up their immortal soul! Don't know why. Rummy, but there it is!" + +"I'm like that myself," assented Ronny Devereux. "That dashed trip +from Calais gets me every time. Bowls me right over. I go aboard, +stoked to the eyebrows with sea-sick remedies, swearing that this time +I'll fool 'em, but down I go ten minutes after we've started and the +next thing I know is somebody saying, 'Well, well! So this is Dover!'" + +"It's exactly the same with me," said Freddie, delighted with the +smooth, easy way the conversation was flowing. "Whether it's the hot, +greasy smell of the engines...." + +"It's not the engines," contended Ronny Devereux. "Stands to reason it +can't be. I rather like the smell of engines. This station is reeking +with the smell of engine-grease, and I can drink it in and enjoy it." +He sniffed, luxuriantly. "It's something else." + +"Ronny's right," said Algy cordially. "It isn't the engines. It's the +way the boat heaves up and down and up and down and up and down...." +He shifted his cigar to his left hand in order to give with his right +a spirited illustration of a Channel steamer going up and down and up +and down and up and down. Lady Underhill, who had opened her eyes, had +an excellent view of the performance, and closed her eyes again +quickly. + +"Be quiet!" she snapped. + +"I was only saying...." + +"Be quiet!" + +"Oh, rather!" + +Lady Underhill wrestled with herself. She was a woman of great +will-power and accustomed to triumph over the weaknesses of the flesh. +After a while her eyes opened. She had forced herself, against the +evidence of her senses, to recognize that this was a platform on which +she stood and not a deck. + +There was a pause. Algy, damped, was temporarily out of action, and +his friends had for the moment nothing to remark. + +"I'm afraid you had a trying journey, mother," said Derek. "The train +was very late." + +"Now, _train_-sickness," said Algy, coming to the surface again, "is a +thing lots of people suffer from. Never could understand it myself." + +"I've never had a touch of train-sickness," said Ronny. + +"Oh, I have," said Freddie. "I've often felt rotten on a train. I get +floating spots in front of my eyes and a sort of heaving sensation, +and everything kind of goes black...." + +"Mr. Rooke!" + +"Eh?" + +"I should be greatly obliged if you would keep those confidences for +the ear of your medical adviser." + +"Freddie," intervened Derek hastily, "my mother's rather tired. Do you +think you could be going ahead and getting a taxi?" + +"My dear old chap, of course! Get you one in a second. Come along, +Algy. Pick up the old waukeesis, Ronny." + +And Freddie, accompanied by his henchmen, ambled off, well pleased +with himself. He had, he felt, helped to break the ice for Derek and +had seen him safely through those awkward opening stages. Now he could +totter off with a light heart and get a bite of lunch. + +Lady Underhill's eyes glittered. They were small, keen, black eyes, +unlike Derek's, which were large and brown. In their other features +the two were obviously mother and son. Each had the same long upper +lip, the same thin, firm mouth, the prominent chin which was a family +characteristic of the Underhills, and the jutting Underhill nose. Most +of the Underhills came into the world looking as though they meant to +drive their way through life like a wedge. + +"A little more," she said tensely, "and I should have struck those +unspeakable young men with my umbrella. One of the things I have never +been able to understand, Derek, is why you should have selected that +imbecile Rooke as your closest friend." + +Derek smiled tolerantly. + +"It was more a case of him selecting _me_. But Freddie is quite a good +fellow really. He's a man you've got to know." + +"_I_ have not got to know him, and I thank heaven for it!" + +"He's a very good-natured fellow. It was decent of him to put me up at +the Albany while our house was let. By the way, he has some seats for +the first night of a new piece this evening. He suggested that we +might all dine at the Albany and go on to the theatre." He hesitated a +moment. "Jill will be there," he said, and felt easier now that her +name had at last come into the talk. "She's longing to meet you." + +"Then why didn't she meet me?" + +"Here, do you mean? At the station? Well, I--I wanted you to see her +for the first time in pleasanter surroundings." + +"Oh!" said Lady Underhill shortly. + +It is a disturbing thought that we suffer in this world just as much +by being prudent and taking precautions as we do by being rash and +impulsive and acting as the spirit moves us. If Jill had been +permitted by her wary fiancé to come with him to the station to meet +his mother it is certain that much trouble would have been avoided. +True, Lady Underhill would probably have been rude to her in the +opening stages of the interview, but she would not have been alarmed +and suspicious; or, rather, the vague suspicion which she had been +feeling would not have solidified, as it did now into definite +certainty of the worst. All that Derek had effected by his careful +diplomacy had been to convince his mother that he considered his +bride-elect something to be broken gently to her. + +She stopped and faced him. + +"Who is she?" she demanded. "Who is this girl?" + +Derek flushed. + +"I thought I made everything clear in my letter." + +"You made nothing clear at all." + +"By your leave!" chanted a porter behind them, and a baggage-truck +clove them apart. + +"We can't talk in a crowded station," said Derek irritably. "Let me +get you to the taxi and take you to the hotel.... What do you want to +know about Jill?" + +"Everything. Where does she come from? Who are her people? I don't +know any Mariners." + +"I haven't cross-examined her," said Derek stiffly. "But I do know +that her parents are dead. Her father was an American." + +"American!" + +"Americans frequently have daughters, I believe." + +"There is nothing to be gained by losing your temper," said Lady +Underhill with steely calm. + +"There is nothing to be gained, as far as I can see, by all this +talk," retorted Derek. He wondered vexedly why his mother always had +this power of making him lose control of himself. He hated to lose +control of himself. It upset him, and blurred that vision which he +liked to have of himself as a calm, important man superior to ordinary +weaknesses. "Jill and I are engaged, and there is an end to it." + +"Don't be a fool," said Lady Underhill, and was driven away by another +baggage-truck. "You know perfectly well," she resumed, returning to +the attack, "that your marriage is a matter of the greatest concern to +me and to the whole of the family." + +"Listen, mother!" Derek's long wait on the draughty platform had +generated an irritability which overcame the deep-seated awe of his +mother which was the result of years of defeat in battles of the will. +"Let me tell you in a few words all that I know of Jill, and then +we'll drop the subject. In the first place, she is a lady. Secondly, +she has plenty of money...." + +"The Underhills do not need to marry for money." + +"I am not marrying for money!" + +"Well, go on." + +"I have already described to you in my letter--very inadequately, but +I did my best--what she looks like. Her sweetness, her lovableness, +all the subtle things about her which go to make her what she is, you +will have to judge for yourself." + +"I intend to!" + +"Well, that's all, then. She lives with her uncle, a Major Selby...." + +"Major Selby? What regiment?" + +"I didn't ask him," snapped the goaded Derek. "And, in the name of +heaven, what does it matter? If you are worrying about Major Selby's +social standing, I may as well tell you that he used to know father." + +"What! When? Where?" + +"Years ago. In India, when father was at Simla." + +"Selby? Selby? Not Christopher Selby?" + +"Oh, you remember him?" + +"I certainly remember him! Not that he and I ever met, but your father +often spoke of him." + +Derek was relieved. It was abominable that this sort of thing should +matter, but one had to face facts, and, as far as his mother was +concerned, it did. The fact that Jill's uncle had known his dead +father would make all the difference to Lady Underhill. + +"Christopher Selby!" said Lady Underhill reflectively. "Yes! I have +often heard your father speak of him. He was the man who gave your +father an I.O.U. to pay a card debt, and redeemed it with a cheque +which was returned by the bank!" + +"What!" + +"Didn't you hear what I said? I will repeat it, if you wish." + +"There must have been some mistake." + +"Only the one your father made when he trusted the man." + +"It must have been some other fellow." + +"Of course!" said Lady Underhill satirically. "No doubt your father +knew hundreds of Christopher Selbys!" + +Derek bit his lip. + +"Well, after all," he said doggedly, "whether it's true or not...." + +"I see no reason why your father should not have spoken the truth." + +"All right. We'll say it _is_ true, then. But what does it matter? I +am marrying Jill, not her uncle." + +"Nevertheless, it would be pleasanter if her only living relative +were not a swindler!... Tell me, where and how did you meet this +girl?" + +"I should be glad if you would not refer to her as 'this girl.' The +name, if you have forgotten it, is Mariner." + +"Well, where did you meet Miss Mariner?" + +"At Prince's. Just after you left for Mentone. Freddie Rooke +introduced me." + +"Oh, your intellectual friend Mr. Rooke knows her?" + +"They were children together. Her people lived next to the Rookes in +Worcestershire." + +"I thought you said she was an American." + +"I said her father was. He settled in England. Jill hasn't been in +America since she was eight or nine." + +"The fact," said Lady Underhill, "that the girl is a friend of Mr. +Rooke is no great recommendation." + +Derek kicked angrily at a box of matches which someone had thrown down +on the platform. + +"I wonder if you could possibly get it into your head, mother, that I +want to marry Jill, not engage her as an under-housemaid. I don't +consider that she requires recommendations, as you call them. However, +don't you think the most sensible thing is for you to wait till you +meet her at dinner to-night, and then you can form your own opinion? +I'm beginning to get a little bored by this futile discussion." + +"As you seem quite unable to talk on the subject of this girl without +becoming rude," said Lady Underhill, "I agree with you. Let us hope +that my first impression will be a favourable one. Experience has +taught me that first impressions are everything." + +"I'm glad you think so," said Derek, "for I fell in love with Jill the +very first moment I saw her!" + + +IV + +Barker stepped back and surveyed with modest pride the dinner-table to +which he had been putting the finishing touches. It was an artistic +job and a credit to him. + +"That's that!" said Barker, satisfied. + +He went to the window and looked out. The fog which had lasted well +into the evening, had vanished now, and the clear night was bright +with stars. A distant murmur of traffic came from the direction of +Piccadilly. + +As he stood there, the front-door bell rang, and continued to ring in +little spurts of sound. If character can be deduced from bell-ringing, +as nowadays it apparently can be from every other form of human +activity, one might have hazarded the guess that whoever was on the +other side of the door was determined, impetuous, and energetic. + +"Barker!" + +Freddie Rooke pushed a tousled head, which had yet to be brushed into +the smooth sleekness that made a delight to the public eye, out of a +room down the passage. + +"Sir?" + +"Somebody ringing." + +"I heard, sir. I was about to answer the bell." + +"If it's Lady Underhill, tell her I'll be in in a minute." + +"I fancy it is Miss Mariner, sir. I think I recognize her touch." + +He made his way down the passage to the front-door, and opened it. A +girl was standing outside. She wore a long grey fur coat, and a filmy +hood covered her hair. As Barker opened the door, she scampered in +like a grey kitten. + +"Brrh! It's cold!" she exclaimed. "Hullo, Barker!" + +"Good evening, miss." + +"Am I the last or the first or what?" + +Barker moved to help her with her cloak. + +"Sir Derek and her ladyship have not yet arrived, miss. Sir Derek went +to bring her ladyship from the Savoy Hotel. Mr. Rooke is dressing in +his bedroom and will be ready very shortly." + +The girl had slipped out of the fur coat, and Barker cast a swift +glance of approval at her. He had the valet's unerring eye for a +thoroughbred, and Jill Mariner was manifestly that. It showed in her +walk, in every move of her small, active body, in the way she looked +at you, in the way she talked to you, in the little tilt of her +resolute chin. Her hair was pale gold, and had the brightness of +colouring of a child's. Her face glowed, and her grey eyes sparkled. +She looked very much alive. + +It was this liveliness of hers that was her chief charm. Her eyes were +good and her mouth, with its small, even teeth, attractive, but she +would have laughed if anybody had called her beautiful. She sometimes +doubted if she were even pretty. Yet few men had met her and remained +entirely undisturbed. She had a magnetism. One hapless youth, who had +laid his heart at her feet and had been commanded to pick it up again, +had endeavoured subsequently to explain her attraction (to a bosom +friend over a mournful bottle of the best in the club smoking-room) in +these words: "I don't know what it is about her, old man, but she +somehow makes a feller feel she's so damned _interested_ in a chap, if +you know what I mean." And though not generally credited in his circle +with any great acuteness, there is no doubt that the speaker had +achieved something approaching a true analysis of Jill's fascination +for his sex. She was interested in everything Life presented to her +notice, from a Coronation to a stray cat. She was vivid. She had +sympathy. She listened to you as though you really mattered. It takes +a man of tough fibre to resist these qualities. Women, on the other +hand, especially of the Lady Underhill type, can resist them without +an effort. + +"Go and stir him up," said Jill, alluding to the absent Mr. Rooke. +"Tell him to come and talk to me. Where's the nearest fire? I want to +get right over it and huddle." + +"The fire's burning nicely in the sitting-room, miss." + +Jill hurried into the sitting-room, and increased her hold on Barker's +esteem by exclaiming rapturously at the sight that greeted her. Barker +had expended time and trouble over the sitting-room. There was no +dust, no untidiness. The pictures all hung straight; the cushions were +smooth and unrumpled; and a fire of exactly the right dimensions +burned cheerfully in the grate, flickering cosily on the small piano +by the couch, on the deep leather arm-chairs which Freddie had brought +with him from Oxford, that home of comfortable chairs, and on the +photographs that studded the walls. In the centre of the mantelpiece, +the place of honour, was the photograph of herself which she had given +Derek a week ago. + +"You're simply wonderful, Barker! I don't see how you manage to make a +room so cosy!" Jill sat down on the club fender that guarded the +fireplace, and held her hands over the blaze. "I can't understand why +men ever marry. Fancy having to give up all this!" + +"I am gratified that you appreciate it, miss. I did my best to make it +comfortable for you. I fancy I hear Mr. Rooke coming now." + +"I hope the others won't be long. I'm starving. Has Mrs. Barker got +something very good for dinner?" + +"She has strained every nerve, miss." + +"Then I'm sure it's worth waiting for. Hullo, Freddie." + +Freddie Rooke, resplendent in evening dress, bustled in, patting his +tie with solicitous fingers. It had been right when he had looked in +the glass in his bedroom, but you never know about ties. Sometimes +they stay right, sometimes they wriggle up sideways. Life is full of +these anxieties. + +"I shouldn't touch it," said Jill. "It looks beautiful, and, if I may +say so in confidence, is having a most disturbing effect on my +emotional nature. I'm not at all sure I shall be able to resist it +right through the evening. It isn't fair of you to try to alienate the +affections of an engaged young person like this." + +Freddie squinted down, and became calmer. + +"Hullo, Jill, old thing. Nobody here yet?" + +"Well, I'm here--the _petite_ figure seated on the fender. But perhaps +I don't count." + +"Oh, I didn't mean that, you know." + +"I should hope not, when I've bought a special new dress just to +fascinate you. A creation I mean. When they cost as much as this one +did, you have to call them names. What do you think of it?" + +Freddie seated himself on another section of the fender, and regarded +her with the eye of an expert. A snappy dresser, as the technical term +is, himself, he appreciated snap in the outer covering of the other +sex. + +"Topping!" he said spaciously. "No other word for it. All wool and a +yard wide. Precisely as mother makes it. You look like a thingummy." + +"How splendid. All my life I've wanted to look like a thingummy, but +somehow I've never been able to manage it." + +"A wood-nymph!" exclaimed Freddie, in a burst of unwonted imagery. He +looked at her with honest admiration. "Dash it, Jill, you know, +there's something about you! You're--what's the word?--you've got such +small bones." + +"Ugh! I suppose it's a compliment, but how horrible it sounds! It +makes me feel like a skeleton." + +"I mean to say, you're--you're dainty!" + +"That's much better." + +"You look as if you weighed about an ounce and a half. You look like +a bit of thistledown! You're a little fairy princess, dash it!" + +"Freddie! This is eloquence!" Jill raised her left hand, and twiddled +a ringed finger ostentatiously. "Er--you _do_ realize that I'm +bespoke, don't you, and that my heart, alas, is another's? Because you +sound as if you were going to propose." + +Freddie produced a snowy handkerchief, and polished his eye-glass. +Solemnity descended on him like a cloud. He looked at Jill with an +earnest, paternal gaze. + +"That reminds me," he said. "I wanted to have a bit of a talk with you +about that--being engaged and all that sort of thing. I'm glad I got +you alone before the Curse arrived." + +"Curse? Do you mean Derek's mother? That sounds cheerful and +encouraging." + +"Well, she is, you know," said Freddie earnestly. "She's a bird! It +would be idle to deny it. She always puts the fear of God into me. I +never know what to say to her." + +"Why don't you try asking her riddles?" + +"It's no joking matter," persisted Freddie, his amiable face overcast. +"Wait till you meet her! You should have seen her at the station this +morning. You don't know what you're up against!" + +"You make my flesh creep, Freddie. What am I up against?" + +Freddie poked the fire scientifically, and assisted it with coal. + +"It's this way," he said. "Of course, dear old Derek's the finest chap +in the world." + +"I know that," said Jill softly. She patted Freddie's hand with a +little gesture of gratitude. Freddie's devotion to Derek was a thing +that always touched her. She looked thoughtfully into the fire, and +her eyes seemed to glow in sympathy with the glowing coals. "There's +nobody like him!" + +"But," continued Freddie, "he always has been frightfully under his +mother's thumb, you know." + +Jill was conscious of a little flicker of irritation. + +"Don't be absurd, Freddie. How could a man like Derek be under +anybody's thumb?" + +"Well, you know what I mean!" + +"I don't in the least know what you mean." + +"I mean, it would be rather rotten if his mother set him against you." + +Jill clenched her teeth. The quick temper which always lurked so very +little beneath the surface of her cheerfulness was stirred. She felt +suddenly chilled and miserable. She tried to tell herself that Freddie +was just an amiable blunderer who spoke without sense or reason, but +it was no use. She could not rid herself of a feeling of foreboding +and discomfort. It had been the one jarring note in the sweet melody +of her love-story, this apprehension of Derek's regarding his mother. +The Derek she loved was a strong man, with a strong man's contempt for +other people's criticism; and there had been something ignoble and +fussy in his attitude regarding Lady Underhill. She had tried to feel +that the flaw in her idol did not exist. And here was Freddie Rooke, a +man who admired Derek with all his hero-worshipping nature, pointing +it out independently. She was annoyed, and she expended her annoyance, +as women will do, upon the innocent bystander. + +"Do you remember the time I turned the hose on you, Freddie," she +said, rising from the fender, "years ago, when we were children, when +you and that awful Mason boy--what was his name? Wally Mason--teased +me?" She looked at the unhappy Freddie with a hostile eye. It was his +blundering words that had spoiled everything. "I've forgotten what it +was all about, but I know that you and Wally infuriated me and I +turned the garden hose on you and soaked you both to the skin. Well, +all I want to point out is that, if you go on talking nonsense about +Derek and his mother and me, I shall ask Barker to bring me a jug of +water, and I shall empty it over you! Set him against me! You talk as +if love were a thing any third party could come along and turn off +with a tap! Do you suppose that, when two people love each other as +Derek and I do, that it can possibly matter in the least what anybody +else thinks or says, even if it is his mother? I haven't got a mother, +but suppose Uncle Chris came and warned me against Derek...." + +Her anger suddenly left her as quickly as it had come. That was always +the way with Jill. One moment she would be raging; the next, something +would tickle her sense of humour and restore her instantly to +cheerfulness. And the thought of dear, lazy old Uncle Chris taking the +trouble to warn anybody against anything except the wrong brand of +wine or an inferior make of cigar conjured up a picture before which +wrath melted away. She chuckled, and Freddie, who had been wilting on +the fender, perked up. + +"You're an extraordinary girl, Jill. One never knows when you're going +to get the wind up." + +"Isn't it enough to make me get the wind up, as you call it, when you +say absurd things like that?" + +"I meant well, old girl!" + +"That's the trouble with you. You always do mean well. You go about +the world meaning well till people fly to put themselves under police +protection. Besides, what on earth could Lady Underhill find to object +to in me? I've plenty of money, and I'm one of the most charming and +attractive of Society belles. You needn't take my word for that, and I +don't suppose you've noticed it, but that's what Mr. Gossip in the +_Morning Mirror_ called me when he was writing about my getting +engaged to Derek. My maid showed me the clipping. There was quite a +long paragraph, with a picture of me that looked like a Zulu +chieftainess taken in a coal-cellar during a bad fog. Well, after +that, what could anyone say against me? I'm a perfect prize! I expect +Lady Underhill screamed with joy when she heard the news and went +singing all over her Riviera villa." + +"Yes," said Freddie dubiously. "Yes, yes, oh, quite so, rather!" + +Jill looked at him sternly. + +"Freddie, you're concealing something from me! You _don't_ think I'm +a charming and attractive Society belle! Tell me why not and I'll show +you where you are wrong. Is it my face you object to, or my manners, +or my figure? There was a young bride of Antigua, who said to her +mate, 'What a pig you are!' Said he, 'Oh, my queen, is it manners you +mean, or do you allude to my fig-u-ar?' Isn't my figuar all right, +Freddie?" + +"Oh, _I_ think you're topping." + +"But for some reason you're afraid that Derek's mother won't think so. +Why won't Lady Underhill agree with Mr. Gossip?" + +Freddie hesitated. + +"Speak up!" + +"Well, it's like this. Remember, I've known the old devil...." + +"Freddie Rooke! Where do you pick up such expressions? Not from me!" + +"Well, that's how I always think of her! I say I've known her ever +since I used to go and stop at their place when I was at school, and I +know exactly the sort of things that put her back up. She's a +what-d'you-call-it. I mean to say, one of the old school, don't you +know. And you're so dashed impulsive, old girl. You know you are! You +are always saying things that come into your head." + +"You can't say a thing unless it comes into your head." + +"You know what I mean," Freddie went on earnestly, not to be diverted +from his theme. "You say rummy things and you do rummy things. What I +mean to say is, you're impulsive." + +"What have I ever done that the sternest critic could call rummy?" + +"Well, I've seen you with my own eyes stop in the middle of Bond +Street and help a lot of fellows shove along a cart that had got +stuck. Mind you, I'm not blaming you for it...." + +"I should hope not. The poor old horse was trying all he knew to get +going, and he couldn't quite make it. Naturally, I helped." + +"Oh, I know. Very decent and all that, but I doubt if Lady Underhill +would have thought a lot of it. And you're so dashed chummy with the +lower orders." + +"Don't be a snob, Freddie." + +"I'm not a snob," protested Freddie, wounded. "When I'm alone with +Barker--for instance--I'm as chatty as dammit. But I don't ask waiters +in public restaurants how their lumbago is." + +"Have you ever had lumbago?" + +"No." + +"Well, it's a very painful thing, and waiters get it just as badly as +dukes. Worse, I should think, because they're always bending and +stooping and carrying things. Naturally one feels sorry for them." + +"But how do you ever find out that a waiter has _got_ lumbago?" + +"I ask him, of course." + +"Well, for goodness' sake," said Freddie, "if you feel the impulse to +do that sort of thing to-night, try and restrain it. I mean to say, +if you're curious to know anything about Barker's chilblains, for +instance, don't enquire after them while he's handing Lady Underhill +the potatoes! She wouldn't like it." + +Jill uttered an exclamation. + +"I knew there was something! Being so cold and wanting to rush in and +crouch over a fire put it clean out of my head. He must be thinking me +a perfect beast!" She ran to the door. "Barker! Barker!" + +Barker appeared from nowhere. + +"Yes, miss?" + +"I'm so sorry I forgot to ask before. How are your chilblains?" + +"A good deal better miss, thank you." + +"Did you try the stuff I recommended?" + +"Yes, miss. It did them a world of good." + +"Splendid!" + +Jill went back into the sitting-room. + +"It's all right," she said reassuringly. "They're better." + +She wandered restlessly about the room, looking at the photographs, +then sat down at the piano and touched the keys. The clock on the +mantelpiece chimed the half-hour. "I wish to goodness they would +arrive," she said. + +"They'll be here pretty soon, I expect." + +"It's rather awful," said Jill, "to think of Lady Underhill racing all +the way from Mentone to Paris and from Paris to Calais and from Calais +to Dover and from Dover to London simply to inspect me. You can't +wonder I'm nervous, Freddie." + +The eye-glass dropped from Freddie's eye. + +"Are _you_ nervous?" he asked, astonished. + +"Of course I'm nervous. Wouldn't you be in my place?" + +"Well, I should never have thought it." + +"Why do you suppose I've been talking such a lot? Why do you imagine I +snapped your poor, innocent head off just now! I'm terrified inside, +terrified!" + +"You don't look it, by Jove!" + +"No, I'm trying to be a little warrior. That's what Uncle Chris always +used to call me. It started the day when he took me to have a tooth +out, when I was ten. 'Be a little warrior, Jill!' he kept saying. 'Be +a little warrior!' And I was." She looked at the clock. "But I shan't +be if they don't get here soon. The suspense is awful." She strummed +the keys. "Suppose she _doesn't_ like me, Freddie! You see how you've +scared me." + +"I didn't say she wouldn't. I only said you'd got to watch out a bit." + +"Something tells me she won't. My nerve is oozing out of me." Jill +shook her head impatiently. "It's all so vulgar! I thought this sort +of thing only happened in the comic papers and in music-hall songs. +Why, it's just like that song somebody used to sing." She laughed. "Do +you remember? I don't know how the verse went, but ... + + John took me round to see his mother, + his mother, + his mother! + And when he'd introduced us to each other, + She sized up everything that I had on. + She put me through a cross-examination: + I fairly boiled with aggravation: + Then she shook her head, + Looked at me and said: + 'Poor John! Poor John!' + +Chorus, Freddie! Let's cheer ourselves up! We need it!" + + John took me round to see his mother...! + +"His m-o-o-other!" croaked Freddie. Curiously enough, this ballad was +one of Freddie's favourites. He had rendered it with a good deal of +success on three separate occasions at village entertainments down in +Worcestershire, and he rather flattered himself that he could get +about as much out of it as the next man. He proceeded to abet Jill +heartily with gruff sounds which he was under the impression +constituted what is known in musical circles as "singing seconds." + +"His mo-o-other!" he growled with frightful scorn. + +"And when he'd introduced us to each other...." + +"O-o-o-other!" + +"She sized up everything that I had on!" + +"Pom-_pom_-pom!" + +"She put me through a cross-examination...." + +Jill had thrown her head back, and was singing jubilantly at the top +of her voice. The appositeness of the song had cheered her up. It +seemed somehow to make her forebodings rather ridiculous, to reduce +them to absurdity, to turn into farce the gathering tragedy which had +been weighing upon her nerves. + + Then she shook her head, + Looked at me and said: + 'Poor John!'.... + +"Jill," said a voice at the door. "I want you to meet my mother!" + +"Poo-oo-oor John!" bleated the hapless Freddie, unable to check +himself. + +"Dinner," said Barker the valet, appearing at the door and breaking a +silence that seemed to fill the room like a tangible presence, "is +served!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE FIRST NIGHT AT THE LEICESTER + +I + + +The front-door closed softly behind the theatre-party. Dinner was +over, and Barker had just been assisting the expedition out of the +place. Sensitive to atmosphere, he had found his share in the dinner a +little trying. It had been a strained meal, and what he liked was a +clatter of conversation and everybody having a good time and enjoying +themselves. + +"Ellen!" called Barker, as he proceeded down the passage to the empty +dining-room. "Ellen!" + +Mrs. Barker appeared out of the kitchen, wiping her hands. Her work +for the evening, like her husband's, was over. Presently what is +technically called a "useful girl" would come in to wash up the +dishes, leaving the evening free for social intercourse. Mrs. Barker +had done well by her patrons that night, and now she wanted a quiet +chat with Barker over a glass of Freddie Rooke's port. + +"Have they gone, Horace?" she asked, following him into the +dining-room. + +Barker selected a cigar from Freddie's humidor, crackled it against +his ear, smelt it, clipped off the end, and lit it. He took the +decanter and filled his wife's glass, then mixed himself a +whisky-and-soda. + +"Happy days!" said Barker. "Yes, they've gone!" + +"I didn't see her ladyship." + +"You didn't miss much! A nasty, dangerous specimen, _she_ is! 'Always +merry and bright,' I don't think. I wish you'd have had my job of +waiting on 'em, Ellen, and me been the one to stay in the kitchen safe +out of it all. That's all I say! It's no treat to _me_ to 'and the +dishes when the atmosphere's what you might call electric. I didn't +envy them that _vol-au-vent_ of yours, Ellen, good as it smelt. Better +a dinner of 'erbs where love is than a stalled ox and 'atred +therewith," said Barker, helping himself to a walnut. + +"Did they have words?" + +Barker shook his head impatiently. + +"That sort don't have words, Ellen. They just sit and goggle." + +"How did her ladyship seem to hit it off with Miss Mariner, Horace?" + +Barker uttered a dry laugh. + +"Ever seen a couple of strange dogs watching each other sort of wary? +That was them! Not that Miss Mariner wasn't all that was pleasant and +nice-spoken. She's all right, Miss Mariner is. She's a little queen. +It wasn't her fault the dinner you'd took so much trouble over was +more like an evening in the Morgue than a Christian dinner-party. She +tried to help things along best she could. But what with Sir Derek +chewing his lip 'alf the time and his mother acting about as matey as +a pennorth of ice-cream, she didn't have a chance. As for the +guv'nor--well, I wish you could have seen him, that's all. You know, +Ellen, sometimes I'm not altogether easy in my mind about the +guv'nor's mental balance. He knows how to buy cigars, and you tell me +his port is good--I never touch it myself--but sometimes he seems to +me to go right off his onion. Just sat there, he did, all through +dinner, looking as if he expected the good food to rise up and bite +him in the face, and jumping nervous when I spoke to him. It's not my +fault," said Barker, aggrieved. "_I_ can't give gentlemen warning +before I ask 'em if they'll have sherry or hock. I can't ring a bell +or toot a horn to show 'em I'm coming. It's my place to bend over and +whisper in their ear, and they've no right to leap about in their +seats and make me spill good wine. (You'll see the spot close by where +you're sitting, Ellen. Jogged my wrist, he did!) I'd like to know why +people in the spear of life which these people are in can't behave +themselves rational, same as we do. When we were walking out and I +took you to have tea with my mother, it was one of the pleasantest +meals I ever ate. Talk about 'armony! It was a love-feast!" + +"Your ma and I took to each other right from the start, Horace," said +Mrs. Barker softly. "That's the difference." + +"Well, any woman with any sense would take to Miss Mariner. If I told +you how near I came to spilling the sauce-boat accidentally over that +old fossil's head, you'd be surprised, Ellen. She just sat there +brooding like an old eagle. If you ask my opinion, Miss Mariner's a +long sight too good for her precious son!" + +"Oh, but Horace! Sir Derek's a baronet!" + +"What of it? Kind 'earts are more than coronets and simple faith than +Norman blood, aren't they?" + +"You're talking Socialism, Horace." + +"No, I'm not. I'm talking sense. I don't know who Miss Mariner's +parents may have been--I never enquired--but anyone can see she's a +lady born and bred. But do you suppose the path of true love is going +to run smooth, for all that? Not it! She's got a 'ard time ahead of +her, that poor girl!" + +"Horace!" Mrs. Barker's gentle heart was wrung. The situation hinted +at by her husband was no new one--indeed, it formed the basis of at +least fifty per cent of the stories in the True Heart Novelette +Series, of which she was a determined reader--but it had never failed +to touch her. "Do you think her ladyship means to come between them +and wreck their romance?" + +"I think she means to have a jolly good try." + +"But Sir Derek has his own money, hasn't he? I mean it's not like when +Sir Courtenay Travers fell in love with the milkmaid and was dependent +on his mother, the Countess, for everything. Sir Derek can afford to +do what he pleases, can't he?" + +Barker shook his head tolerantly. The excellence of the cigar and the +soothing qualities of the whisky-and-soda had worked upon him, and he +was feeling less ruffled. + +"You don't understand these things," he said. "Women like her ladyship +can talk a man into anything and out of anything. I wouldn't care, +only you can see the poor girl is mad over the feller. What she finds +attractive in him, I can't say, but that's her own affair." + +"He's very handsome, Horace, with those flashing eyes and that stern +mouth," argued Mrs. Barker. + +Barker sniffed. + +"Have it your own way," he said. "It's no treat to _me_ to see his +eyes flash, and if he'd put that stern mouth of his to some better use +than advising the guv'nor to lock up the cigars and trouser the key, +I'd be better pleased. If there's one thing I can't stand," said +Barker, "it's not to be trusted!" He lifted his cigar and looked at it +censoriously. "I thought so! Burning all down one side. They will do +that if you light 'em careless. Oh, well," he continued, rising and +going to the humidor, "there's plenty more where that came from. Out +of evil cometh good," said Barker philosophically. "If the guv'nor +hadn't been in such a overwrought state to-night, he'd have remembered +not to leave the key in the keyhole. Help yourself to another glass of +port, Ellen, and let's enjoy ourselves!" + + +II + +When one considers how full of his own troubles, how weighed down with +the problems of his own existence the average playgoer generally is +when enters a theatre, it is remarkable that dramatists ever find it +possible to divert and entertain whole audiences for a space of +several hours. As regards at least three of those who had assembled to +witness its opening performance, the author of "Tried by Fire," at the +Leicester Theatre, undoubtedly had his work cut out for him. + +It has perhaps been sufficiently indicated by the remarks of Barker, +the valet, that the little dinner at Freddie Rooke's had not been an +unqualified success. Searching the records for an adequately gloomy +parallel to the taxi-cab journey to the theatre which followed it, one +can only think of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. And yet even that +was probably not conducted in dead silence. + +The only member of the party who was even remotely happy was, +curiously enough, Freddie Rooke. Originally Freddie had obtained three +tickets for "Tried by Fire." The unexpected arrival of Lady Underhill +had obliged him to buy a fourth, separated by several rows from the +other three. This, as he had told Derek at breakfast, was the seat he +proposed to occupy himself. + +It consoles the philosopher in this hard world to reflect that, even +if man is born to sorrow as the sparks fly upward, it is still +possible for small things to make him happy. The thought of being +several rows away from Lady Underhill had restored Freddie's +equanimity like a tonic. It thrilled him like the strains of some +grand, sweet anthem all the way to the theatre. If Freddie Rooke had +been asked at that moment to define happiness in a few words, he would +have replied that it consisted in being several rows away from Lady +Underhill. + +The theatre was nearly full when Freddie's party arrived. The +Leicester Theatre had been rented for the season by the newest +theatrical knight, Sir Chester Portwood, who had a large following; +and, whatever might be the fate of the play in the final issue, it +would do at least one night's business. The stalls were ablaze with +jewellery and crackling with starched shirt-fronts; and expensive +scents pervaded the air, putting up a stiff battle with the plebeian +peppermint that emanated from the pit. The boxes were filled, and up +in the gallery grim-faced patrons of the drama, who had paid their +shillings at the door and intended to get a shilling's worth of +entertainment in return, sat and waited stolidly for the curtain to +rise. + +The lights shot up beyond the curtain. The house-lights dimmed. +Conversation ceased. The curtain rose. Jill wriggled herself +comfortably into her seat, and slipped her hand into Derek's. She felt +a glow of happiness as it closed over hers. All, she told herself, was +right with the world. + +All, that is to say, except the drama which was unfolding on the +stage. It was one of those plays which start wrong and never recover. +By the end of the first ten minutes there had spread through the +theatre that uneasy feeling which comes over the audience at an +opening performance when it realizes that it is going to be bored. A +sort of lethargy had gripped the stalls. The dress-circle was +coughing. Up in the gallery there was grim silence. + +Sir Chester Portwood was an actor-manager who had made his reputation +in light comedy of the tea-cup school. His numerous admirers attended +a first night at his theatre in a mood of comfortable anticipation, +assured of something pleasant and frothy with a good deal of bright +dialogue and not too much plot. To-night he seemed to have fallen a +victim to that spirit of ambition which intermittently attacks +actor-managers of his class, expressing itself in an attempt to prove +that, having established themselves securely as light comedians, they +can, like the lady reciter, turn right around and be serious. The one +thing which the London public felt that it was safe from in a Portwood +play was heaviness, and "Tried by Fire" was grievously heavy. It was a +poetic drama, and the audience, though loath to do anybody an +injustice, was beginning to suspect that it was written in blank +verse. + +The acting did nothing to dispel the growing uneasiness. Sir Chester +himself, apparently oppressed by the weightiness of the occasion and +the responsibility of offering an unfamiliar brand of goods to his +public, had dropped his customary debonair method of delivering lines +and was mouthing his speeches. It was good gargling, but bad +elocution. And, for some reason best known to himself, he had +entrusted the rôle of the heroine to a doll-like damsel with a lisp, +of whom the audience disapproved sternly from her initial entrance. + +It was about half-way through the first act that Jill, whose attention +had begun to wander, heard a soft groan at her side. The seats which +Freddie Rooke had bought were at the extreme end of the seventh row. +There was only one other seat in the row, and, as Derek had placed his +mother on his left and was sitting between her and Jill, the latter +had this seat on her right. It had been empty at the rise of the +curtain, but in the past few minutes a man had slipped silently into +it. The darkness prevented Jill from seeing his face, but it was plain +that he was suffering, and her sympathy went out to him. His opinion +of the play so obviously coincided with her own. + +Presently the first act ended, and the lights went up. There was a +spatter of insincere applause from the stalls, echoed in the +dress-circle. It grew fainter in the upper circle, and did not reach +the gallery at all. + +"Well?" said Jill to Derek. "What do you think of it?" + +"Too awful for words," said Derek sternly. + +He leaned forward to join the conversation which had started between +Lady Underhill and some friends she had discovered in the seats in +front; and Jill, turning, became aware that the man on her right was +looking at her intently. He was a big man with rough, wiry hair and a +humorous mouth. His age appeared to be somewhere in the middle +twenties. Jill, in the brief moment in which their eyes met, decided +that he was ugly, but with an ugliness that was rather attractive. He +reminded her of one of those large, loose, shaggy dogs that break +things in drawing-rooms but make admirable companions for the open +road. She had a feeling that he would look better in tweeds in a field +than in evening dress in a theatre. He had nice eyes. She could not +distinguish their colour, but they were frank and friendly. + +All this Jill noted with her customary quickness, and then she looked +away. For an instant she had had an odd feeling that somewhere she had +met this man or somebody very like him before, but the impression +vanished. She also had the impression that he was still looking at +her, but she gazed demurely in front of her and did not attempt to +verify the suspicion. + +Between them, as they sat side by side, there inserted itself suddenly +the pinkly remorseful face of Freddie Rooke. Freddie, having +skirmished warily in the aisle until it was clear that Lady +Underhill's attention was engaged elsewhere, had occupied a seat in +the row behind which had been left vacant temporarily by an owner who +liked refreshment between the acts. Freddie was feeling deeply ashamed +of himself. He felt that he had perpetrated a bloomer of no slight +magnitude. + +"I'm awfully sorry about this," he said penitently. "I mean, roping +you in to listen to this frightful tosh! When I think I might have got +seats just as well for any one of half a dozen topping musical +comedies, I feel like kicking myself with some vim. But, honestly, how +was I to know? I never dreamed we were going to be let in for anything +of this sort. Portwood's plays are usually so dashed bright and snappy +and all that. Can't think what he was doing, putting on a thing like +this. Why, it's blue round the edges!" + +The man on Jill's right laughed sharply. + +"Perhaps," he said, "the chump who wrote the piece got away from the +asylum long enough to put up the money to produce it." + +If there is one thing that startles the well-bred Londoner and throws +him off his balance, it is to be addressed unexpectedly by a stranger. +Freddie's sense of decency was revolted. A voice from the tomb could +hardly have shaken him more. All the traditions to which he had been +brought up had gone to solidify his belief that this was one of the +things which didn't happen. Absolutely it wasn't done. During an +earthquake or a shipwreck and possibly on the Day of Judgment, yes. +But only then. At other times, unless they wanted a match or the time +or something, chappies did not speak to fellows to whom they had not +been introduced. He was far too amiable to snub the man, but to go on +with this degrading scene was out of the question. There was nothing +for it but flight. + +"Oh, ah, yes," he mumbled. "Well," he added to Jill, "I suppose I may +as well be toddling back. See you later and so forth." + +And with a faint "Good-bye-ee!" Freddie removed himself, thoroughly +unnerved. + +Jill looked out of the corner of her eye at Derek. He was still +occupied with the people in front. She turned to the man on her right. +She was not the slave to etiquette that Freddie was. She was much too +interested in life to refrain from speaking to strangers. + +"You shocked him!" she said dimpling. + +"Yes. It broke Freddie all up, didn't it!" + +It was Jill's turn to be startled. She looked at him in astonishment. + +"Freddie?" + +"That _was_ Freddie Rooke, wasn't it? Surely I wasn't mistaken?" + +"But--do you know him? He didn't seem to know you." + +"These are life's tragedies He has forgotten me. My boyhood friend!" + +"Oh, you were at school with him?" + +"No. Freddie went to Winchester, if I remember. I was at Haileybury. +Our acquaintance was confined to the holidays. My people lived near +his people in Worcestershire." + +"Worcestershire!" Jill leaned forward excitedly. "But I used to live +near Freddie in Worcestershire myself when I was small. I knew him +there when he was a boy. We must have met!" + +"We met all right." + +Jill wrinkled her forehead. That odd familiar look was in his eyes +again. But memory failed to respond. She shook her head. + +"I don't remember you," she said. "I'm sorry." + +"Never mind. Perhaps the recollection would have been painful." + +"How do you mean, painful?" + +"Well, looking back, I can see that I must have been a very unpleasant +child. I have always thought it greatly to the credit of my parents +that they let me grow up. It would have been so easy to have dropped +something heavy on me out of a window. They must have been tempted a +hundred times, but they refrained. Yes, I was a great pest around the +home. My only redeeming point was the way I worshipped _you_!" + +"What!" + +"Oh, yes. You probably didn't notice it at the time, for I had a +curious way of expressing my adoration. But you remain the brightest +memory of a chequered youth." + +Jill searched his face with grave eyes, then shook her head again. + +"Nothing stirs?" asked the man sympathetically. + +"It's too maddening! Why does one forget things?" She reflected. "You +aren't Bobby Morrison?" + +"I am not. What is more, I never was!" + +Jill dived into the past once more and emerged with another +possibility. + +"Or--Charlie--Charlie what was it?--Charlie Field?" + +"You wound me! Have you forgotten that Charlie Field wore velvet Lord +Fauntleroy suits and long golden curls? My past is not smirched with +anything like that." + +"Would I remember your name if you told me?" + +"I don't know. I've forgotten yours. Your surname, that is. Of course, +I remember that your Christian name was Jill. It has always seemed to +me the prettiest monosyllable in the language." He looked at her +thoughtfully. "It's odd how little you've altered in looks. Freddie's +just the same, too, only larger. And he didn't wear an eye-glass in +those days, though I can see he was bound to later on. And yet I've +changed so much that you can't place me. It shows what a wearing life +I must have led. I feel like Rip van Winkle. Old and withered. But +that may be just the result of watching this play." + +"It is pretty terrible, isn't it?" + +"Worse than that. Looking at it dispassionately, I find it the +extreme, ragged, outermost edge of the limit. Freddie had the correct +description of it. He's a great critic." + +"I really do think it's the worst thing I have ever seen." + +"I don't know what plays you have seen, but I feel you're right." + +"Perhaps the second act's better," said Jill optimistically. + +"It's worse. I know that sounds like boasting, but it's true. I feel +like getting up and making a public apology." + +"But ... Oh!" + +Jill turned scarlet. A monstrous suspicion had swept over her. + +"The only trouble is," went on her companion, "that the audience would +undoubtedly lynch me. And, though it seems improbable just at the +present moment, it may be that life holds some happiness for me that's +worth waiting for. Anyway, I'd rather not be torn limb from limb. A +messy finish! I can just see them rending me asunder in a spasm of +perfectly justifiable fury. 'She loves me!' Off comes a leg. 'She +loves me not!' Off comes an arm. No, I think on the whole I'll lie +low. Besides, why should I care? Let 'em suffer. It's their own fault. +They _would_ come!" + +Jill had been trying to interrupt the harangue. She was greatly +concerned. + +"Did you _write_ the play?" + +The man nodded. + +"You are quite right to speak in that horrified tone. But between +ourselves and on the understanding that you don't get up and denounce +me, I did." + +"Oh, I'm so sorry!" + +"Not half so sorry as I am, believe me!" + +"I mean, I wouldn't have said...." + +"Never mind. You didn't tell me anything I didn't know." The lights +began to go down. He rose. "Well, they're off again. Perhaps you will +excuse me? I don't feel quite equal to assisting any longer at the +wake. If you want something to occupy your mind during the next act, +try to remember my name." + +He slid from his seat and disappeared. Jill clutched at Derek. + +"Oh, Derek, it's too awful. I've just been talking to the man who +wrote this play, and I told him it was the worst thing I had ever +seen!" + +"Did you?" Derek snorted. "Well, it's about time somebody told him!" A +thought seemed to strike him. "Why, who is he? I didn't know you knew +him." + +"I don't. I don't even know his name." + +"His name, according to the programme, is John Grant. Never heard of +him before. Jill, I wish you would not talk to people you don't know," +said Derek with a note of annoyance in his voice. "You can never tell +who they are." + +"But...." + +"Especially with my mother here. You must be more careful." + +The curtain rose. Jill saw the stage mistily. From childhood up, she +had never been able to cure herself of an unfortunate sensitiveness +when sharply spoken to by those she loved. A rebuking world she could +face with a stout heart, but there had always been just one or two +people whose lightest word of censure could crush her. Her father had +always had that effect upon her, and now Derek had taken his place. + +But if there had only been time to explain.... Derek could not object +to her chatting with a friend of her childhood, even if she had +completely forgotten him and did not remember his name even now. John +Grant? Memory failed to produce any juvenile John Grant for her +inspection. + +Puzzling over this problem, Jill missed much of the beginning of the +second act. Hers was a detachment which the rest of the audience would +gladly have shared. For the poetic drama, after a bad start, was now +plunging into worse depths of dullness. The coughing had become almost +continuous. The stalls, supported by the presence of large droves of +Sir Chester's personal friends, were struggling gallantly to maintain +a semblance of interest, but the pit and gallery had plainly given up +hope. The critic of a weekly paper of small circulation, who had been +shoved up in the upper circle, grimly jotted down the phrase +"apathetically received" on his programme. He had come to the theatre +that night in an aggrieved mood, for managers usually put him in the +dress-circle. He got out his pencil again. Another phrase had occurred +to him, admirable for the opening of his article. "At the Leicester +Theatre," he wrote, "where Sir Chester Portwood presented 'Tried by +Fire,' dullness reigned supreme...." + +But you never know. Call no evening dull till it is over. However +uninteresting its early stages may have been that night was to be as +animated and exciting as any audience could desire--a night to be +looked back to and talked about, for just as the critic of _London +Gossip_ wrote those damning words on his programme, guiding his pencil +uncertainly in the dark, a curious yet familiar odour stole over the +house. + +The stalls got it first, and sniffed. It rose to the dress-circle, and +the dress-circle sniffed. Floating up, it smote the silent gallery. +And, suddenly, coming to life with a single-minded abruptness, the +gallery ceased to be silent. + +"Fire!" + +Sir Chester Portwood, ploughing his way through a long speech, stopped +and looked apprehensively over his shoulder. The girl with the lisp, +who had been listening in a perfunctory manner to the long speech, +screamed loudly. The voice of an unseen stage-hand called thunderously +to an invisible "Bill" to commere quick. And from the scenery on the +prompt side there curled lazily across the stage a black wisp of +smoke. + +"Fire! Fire! Fire!" + +"Just," said a voice at Jill's elbow, "what the play needed!" The +mysterious author was back in his seat again. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +JILL AND THE UNKNOWN ESCAPE + +I + + +In these days when the authorities who watch over the welfare of the +community have taken the trouble to reiterate encouragingly in printed +notices that a full house can be emptied in three minutes and that all +an audience has to do in an emergency is to walk, not run, to the +nearest exit, fire in the theatre has lost a good deal of its old-time +terror. Yet it would be paltering with the truth to say that the +audience which had assembled to witness the opening performance of the +new play at the Leicester was entirely at its ease. The asbestos +curtain was already on its way down, which should have been +reassuring: but then asbestos curtains never look the part. To the lay +eye they seem just the sort of thing that will blaze quickest. +Moreover, it had not yet occurred to the man at the switchboard to +turn up the house-lights, and the darkness was disconcerting. + +Portions of the house were taking the thing better than other +portions. Up in the gallery a vast activity was going on. The clatter +of feet almost drowned the shouting. A moment before it would have +seemed incredible that anything could have made the occupants of the +gallery animated, but the instinct of self-preservation had put new +life into them. + +The stalls had not yet entirely lost their self-control. Alarm was in +the air, but for the moment they hung on the razor-edge between panic +and dignity. Panic urged them to do something sudden and energetic; +dignity counselled them to wait. They, like the occupants of the +gallery, greatly desired to be outside, but it was bad form to rush +and jostle. The men were assisting the women in their cloaks, assuring +them the while that it was "all right" and that they must not be +frightened. But another curl of smoke had crept out just before the +asbestos curtain completed its descent, and their words lacked the +ring of conviction. The movement towards the exits had not yet become +a stampede, but already those with seats nearest the stage had begun +to feel that the more fortunate individuals near the doors were +infernally slow in removing themselves. + +Suddenly, as if by mutual inspiration, the composure of the stalls +began to slip. Looking from above, one could have seen a sort of +shudder run through the crowd. It was the effect of every member of +that crowd starting to move a little more quickly. + +A hand grasped Jill's arm. It was a comforting hand, the hand of a man +who had not lost his head. A pleasant voice backed up its message of +reassurance. + +"It's no good getting into that mob. You might get hurt. There's no +danger; the play isn't going on." + +Jill was shaken; but she had the fighting spirit and hated to show +that she was shaken. Panic was knocking at the door of her soul, but +dignity refused to be dislodged. + +"All the same," she said, smiling a difficult smile, "it would be nice +to get out, wouldn't it?" + +"I was just going to suggest something of that very sort," said the +man beside her. "The same thought occurred to me. We can stroll out +quite comfortably by our own private route. Come along." + +Jill looked over her shoulder. Derek and Lady Underhill were merged +into the mass of refugees. She could not see them. For an instant a +little spasm of pique stung her at the thought that Derek had deserted +her. She groped her way after her companion, and presently they came +by way of a lower box to the iron pass-door leading to the stage. + +As it opened, smoke blew through, and the smell of burning was +formidable. Jill recoiled involuntarily. + +"It's all right," said her companion. "It smells worse than it really +is. And, anyway, this is the quickest way out." + +They passed through on to the stage, and found themselves in a world +of noise and confusion compared with which the auditorium which they +had left had been a peaceful place. Smoke was everywhere. A +stage-hand, carrying a bucket, lurched past them, bellowing. From +somewhere out of sight on the other side of the stage there came a +sound of chopping. Jill's companion moved quickly to the switchboard, +groped, found a handle, and turned it. In the narrow space between the +corner of the proscenium and the edge of the asbestos curtain lights +flashed up: and simultaneously there came a sudden diminution of the +noise from the body of the house. The stalls, snatched from the +intimidating spell of the darkness and able to see each other's faces, +discovered that they had been behaving indecorously and checked their +struggling, a little ashamed of themselves. The relief would be only +momentary, but, while it lasted, it postponed panic. + +"Go straight across the stage," Jill heard her companion say, "out +along the passage and turn to the right, and you'll be at the +stage-door. I think, as there seems no one else around to do it, I'd +better go out and say a few soothing words to the customers. Otherwise +they'll be biting holes in each other." + +He squeezed through the narrow opening in front of the curtain. + +"Ladies and gentlemen!" + +Jill remained where she was, leaning with one hand against the +switchboard. She made no attempt to follow the directions he had given +her. She was aware of a sense of comradeship, of being with this man +in this adventure. If he stayed, she must stay. To go now through the +safety of the stage-door would be abominable desertion. She listened, +and found that she could hear plainly in spite of the noise. The smoke +was worse than ever, and hurt her eyes, so that the figures of the +theatre-firemen, hurrying to and fro, seemed like Brocken spectres. +She slipped a corner of her cloak across her mouth, and was able to +breathe more easily. + +"Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that there is absolutely no +danger. I am a stranger to you, so there is no reason why you should +take my word, but fortunately I can give you solid proof. If there +were any danger, _I_ wouldn't be here. All that has happened is that +the warmth of your reception of the play has set a piece of scenery +alight...." + +A crimson-faced stage-hand, carrying an axe in blackened hands, roared +in Jill's ear. + +"'Op it!" shouted the stage-hand. He cast his axe down with a clatter. +"Can't you see the place is afire?" + +"But--but I'm waiting for...." Jill pointed to where her ally was +still addressing an audience that seemed reluctant to stop and listen +to him. + +The stage-hand squinted out round the edge of the curtain. + +"If he's a friend of yours, miss, kindly get 'im to cheese it and get +a move on. We're clearing out. There's nothing we can do. It's got too +much of an 'old. In about another two ticks the roof's going to drop +on us." + +Jill's friend came squeezing back through the opening. + +"Hullo! Still here?" He blinked approvingly at her through the smoke. +"You're a little soldier! Well, Augustus, what's on your mind?" + +The simple question seemed to take the stage-hand aback. + +"Wot's on my mind? I'll tell you wot's on my blinking mind...." + +"Don't tell me. Let me guess. I've got it! The place is on fire!" + +The stage-hand expectorated disgustedly. Flippancy at such a moment +offended his sensibilities. + +"We're 'opping it," he said. + +"Great minds think alike! _We_ are hopping it, too." + +"You'd better! And damn quick!" + +"And, as you suggest, damn quick. You think of everything!" + +Jill followed him across the stage. Her heart was beating violently. +There was not only smoke now, but heat. Across the stage little +scarlet flames were shooting, and something large and hard, unseen +through the smoke, fell with a crash. The air was heavy with the smell +of burning paint. + +"Where's Sir Chester Portwood?" enquired her companion of the +stage-hand, who hurried beside them. + +"'Opped it!" replied the other briefly, and coughed raspingly as he +swallowed smoke. + +"Strange," said the man in Jill's ear, as he pulled her along. "This +way. Stick to me. Strange how the drama anticipates life! At the end +of Act Two there was a scene where Sir Chester had to creep sombrely +out into the night, and now he's gone and done it! Ah!" + +They had stumbled through a doorway and were out in a narrow passage, +where the air, though tainted, was comparatively fresh. Jill drew a +deep breath. Her companion turned to the stage-hand and felt in his +pocket. + +"Here." A coin changed hands. "Go and get a drink. You need it after +all this." + +"Thank you, sir." + +"Don't mention it. You've saved our lives. Suppose you hadn't come up +and told us, and we had never noticed there was a fire!" He turned to +Jill. "Here's the stage-door. Shall we creep sombrely out into the +night?" + +The guardian of the stage-door was standing in the entrance of his +little hutch, plainly perplexed. He was a slow thinker and a man whose +life was ruled by routine, and the events of the evening had left him +uncertain how to act. + +"Wot's all this about a fire?" he demanded. + +Jill's friend stopped. + +"A fire?" He looked at Jill. "Did _you_ hear anything about a fire?" + +"They all come bustin' past 'ere yelling there's a fire," persisted +the door-man. + +"By George! Now I come to think of it, you're perfectly right! There +_is_ a fire! If you wait here a little longer you'll get it in the +small of the back. Take the advice of an old friend who means you well +and vanish. In the inspired words of the lad we've just parted from, +'op it!" + +The stage-door man turned this over in his mind for a space. + +"But I'm supposed to stay 'ere till eleven-thirty and lock up!" he +said. "That's what I'm supposed to do. Stay 'ere till eleven-thirty +and lock up! And it ain't but ten forty-five now." + +"I see the difficulty," said Jill's companion thoughtfully. + +"Well, Casabianca, I'm afraid I don't see how to help you. It's a +matter for your own conscience. I don't want to lure you from the +burning deck; on the other hand, if you stick on here you'll most +certainly be fired on both sides.... But, tell me. You spoke about +locking up something at eleven-thirty. What are you supposed to lock +up?" + +"Why, the theatre." + +"Then that's all right. By eleven-thirty there won't _be_ a theatre. +If I were you, I should leave quietly and unostentatiously now. +To-morrow, if you wish it, and if they've cooled off sufficiently, you +can come and sit on the ruins. Good night!" + + +II + +Outside, the air was cold and crisp. Jill drew her warm cloak closer. +Round the corner there was noise and shouting. Fire-engines had +arrived. Jill's companion lit a cigarette. + +"Do you wish to stop and see the conflagration?" he asked. + +Jill shivered. She was more shaken than she had realized. + +"I've seen all the conflagration I want." + +"Same here. Well, it's been an exciting evening. Started slow, I +admit, but warmed up later! What I seem to need at the moment is a +restorative stroll along the Embankment. Do you know, Sir Chester +Portwood didn't like the title of my play. He said 'Tried by Fire' was +too melodramatic. Well, he can't say now it wasn't appropriate." + +They made their way towards the river, avoiding the street which was +blocked by the crowds and the fire-engines. As they crossed the +Strand, the man looked back. A red glow was in the sky. + +"A great blaze!" he said. "What you might call--in fact what the +papers _will_ call--a holocaust. Quite a treat for the populace." + +"Do you think they will be able to put it out?" + +"Not a chance. It's got too much of a hold. It's a pity you hadn't +that garden-hose of yours with you, isn't it?" + +Jill stopped, wide-eyed. + +"Garden-hose?" + +"Don't you remember the garden-hose? I do! I can feel that clammy +feeling of the water trickling down my back now!" + +Memory, always a laggard by the wayside that redeems itself by an +eleventh-hour rush, raced back to Jill. The Embankment turned to a +sun-lit garden, and the January night to a July day. She stared at +him. He was looking at her with a whimsical smile. It was a smile +which, pleasant to-day, had seemed mocking and hostile on that +afternoon years ago. She had always felt then that he was laughing at +her, and at the age of twelve she had resented laughter at her +expense. + +"You surely can't be Wally Mason!" "I was wondering when you would +remember." "But the programme called you something else--John +something." + +"That was a cunning disguise. Wally Mason is the only genuine and +official name. And, by Jove! I've just remembered yours. It was +Mariner. By the way,"--he paused for an almost imperceptible +instant--"is it still?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LAST OF THE ROOKES TAKES A HAND + +I + + +Jill was hardly aware that he had asked her a question. She was +suffering that momentary sense of unreality which comes to us when the +years roll away and we are thrown abruptly back into the days of our +childhood. The logical side of her mind was quite aware that there was +nothing remarkable in the fact that Wally Mason, who had been to her +all these years a boy in an Eton suit, should now present himself as a +grown man. But for all that the transformation had something of the +effect of a conjuring-trick. It was not only the alteration in his +appearance that startled her: it was the amazing change in his +personality. Wally Mason had been the _bęte noire_ of her childhood. +She had never failed to look back at the episode of the garden-hose +with the feeling that she had acted well, that--however she might have +strayed in those early days from the straight and narrow path--in that +one particular crisis she had done the right thing. And now she had +taken an instant liking for him. Easily as she made friends, she had +seldom before felt so immediately drawn to a strange man. Gone was +the ancient hostility, and in its place a soothing sense of +comradeship. The direct effect of this was to make Jill feel suddenly +old. It was as if some link that joined her to her childhood had been +snapped. + +She glanced down the Embankment. Close by, to the left, Waterloo +Bridge loomed up, dark and massive against the steel-grey sky. A +tram-car, full of home-bound travellers, clattered past over rails +that shone with the peculiarly frost-bitten gleam that seems to herald +snow. Across the river everything was dark and mysterious, except for +an occasional lamp-post and the dim illumination of the wharves. It +was a depressing prospect, and the thought crossed her mind that to +the derelicts whose nightly resting-place was a seat on the Embankment +the view must seem even bleaker than it did to herself. She gave a +little shiver. Somehow this sudden severance from the old days had +brought with it a forlornness. She seemed to be standing alone in a +changed world. + +"Cold?" said Wally Mason. + +"A little." + +"Let's walk." + +They moved westwards. Cleopatra's Needle shot up beside them, a +pointing finger. Down on the silent river below, coffin-like row-boats +lay moored to the wall. Through a break in the trees the clock over +the Houses of Parliament shone for an instant as if suspended in the +sky, then vanished as the trees closed in. A distant barge in the +direction of Battersea wailed and was still. It had a mournful and +foreboding sound. Jill shivered again. It annoyed her that she could +not shake off this quite uncalled-for melancholy, but it withstood +every effort. Why she should have felt that a chapter, a pleasant +chapter, in the book of her life had been closed, she could not have +said, but the feeling lingered. + +"Correct me if I am wrong," said Wally Mason, breaking a silence that +had lasted several minutes, "but you seem to me to be freezing in your +tracks. Ever since I came to London I've had a habit of heading for +the Embankment in times of mental stress, but perhaps the middle of +winter is not quite the moment for communing with the night. The Savoy +is handy, if we stop walking away from it. I think we might celebrate +this re-union with a little supper, don't you?" + +Jill's depression disappeared magically. Her mercurial temperament +asserted itself. + +"Lights!" she said. "Music!" + +"And food! To an ethereal person like you that remark may seem gross, +but I had no dinner." + +"You poor dear! Why not?" + +"Just nervousness." + +"Why, of course." The interlude of the fire had caused her to forget +his private and personal connection with the night's events. Her mind +went back to something he had said in the theatre. "Wally--" She +stopped, a little embarrassed. "I suppose I ought to call you Mr. +Mason, but I've always thought of you...." + +"Wally, if you please, Jill. It's not as though we were strangers. I +haven't my book of etiquette with me, but I fancy that about eleven +gallons of cold water down the neck constitutes an introduction. What +were you going to say?" + +"It was what you said to Freddie about putting up money. Did you +really?" + +"Put up the money for that ghastly play? I did. Every cent. It was the +only way to get it put on." + +"But why...? I forget what I was going to say!" + +"Why did I want it put on? Well, it does seem odd, but I give you my +honest word that until to-night I thought the darned thing a +masterpiece. I've been writing musical comedies for the last few +years, and after you've done that for a while your soul rises up +within you and says, 'Come, come, my lad! You can do better than +this!' That's what mine said, and I believed it. Subsequent events +have proved that Sidney the Soul was pulling my leg!" + +"But--then you've lost a great deal of money?" + +"The hoarded wealth, if you don't mind my being melodramatic for a +moment, of a lifetime. And no honest old servitor who dangled me on +his knee as a baby to come along and offer me his savings! They don't +make servitors like that in America, worse luck. There is a Swedish +lady who looks after my simple needs back there, but instinct tells me +that, if I were to approach her on the subject of loosening up for the +benefit of the young master, she would call a cop. Still, I've gained +experience, which they say is just as good as cash, and I've enough +money left to pay the bill, at any rate, so come along." + +In the supper-room of the Savoy Hotel there was, as anticipated, food +and light and music. It was still early, and the theatres had not yet +emptied themselves, so that the big room was as yet but half full. +Wally Mason had found a table in the corner, and proceeded to order +with the concentration of a hungry man. + +"Forgive my dwelling so tensely on the bill-of-fare," he said, when +the waiter had gone. "You don't know what it means to one in my +condition to have to choose between _poulet en casserole_ and kidneys +_ŕ la mâitre d'hôtel_. A man's cross-roads!" + +Jill smiled happily across the table at him. She could hardly believe +that this old friend with whom she had gone through the perils of the +night and with whom she was now about to feast was the sinister figure +that had cast a shadow on her childhood. He looked positively +incapable of pulling a little girl's hair--as no doubt he was. + +"You always were greedy," she commented. "Just before I turned the +hose on you, I remember you had made yourself thoroughly disliked by +pocketing a piece of my birthday cake." + +"Do you remember that?" His eyes lit up and he smiled back at her. He +had an ingratiating smile. His mouth was rather wide, and it seemed to +stretch right across his face. He reminded Jill more than ever of a +big, friendly dog. "I can feel it now--all squashy in my pocket, +inextricably mingled with a catapult, a couple of marbles, a box of +matches, and some string. I was quite the human general store in those +days. Which reminds me that we have been some time settling down to an +exchange of our childish reminiscences, haven't we?" + +"I've been trying to realize that you are Wally Mason. You have +altered so." + +"For the better?" + +"Very much for the better! You were a horrid little brute. You used to +terrify me. I never knew when you were going to bound out at me from +behind a tree or something. I remember your chasing me for miles, +shrieking at the top of your voice!" + +"Sheer embarrassment! I told you just now how I used to worship you. +If I shrieked a little, it was merely because I was shy. I did it to +hide my devotion." + +"You certainly succeeded. I never even suspected it." + +Wally sighed. + +"How like life! I never told my love, but let concealment like a worm +i' the bud...." + +"Talking of worms, you once put one down my back!" + +"No, no," said Wally in a shocked voice. "Not that I I was boisterous, +perhaps, but surely always the gentleman." + +"You did! In the shrubbery. There had been a thunderstorm and...." + +"I remember the incident now. A mere misunderstanding. I had done with +the worm, and thought you might be glad to have it." + +"You were always doing things like that. Once you held me over the +pond and threatened to drop me into the water--in the winter! Just +before Christmas. It was a particularly mean thing to do, because I +couldn't even kick your shins for fear you would let me fall. Luckily +Uncle Chris came up and made you stop." + +"You considered that a fortunate occurrence, did you?" said Wally. +"Well, perhaps from your point of view it may have been. I saw the +thing from a different angle. Your uncle had a whangee with him. My +friends sometimes wonder what I mean when I say that my old wound +troubles me in frosty weather. By the way, how is your uncle?" + +"Oh, he's very well. Just as lazy as ever. He's away at present, down +at Brighton." + +"He didn't strike me as lazy," said Wally thoughtfully. "Dynamic would +express it better. But perhaps I happened to encounter him in a moment +of energy. Ah!" The waiter had returned with a loaded tray. "The food! +Forgive me if I seem a little distrait for a moment or two. There is +man's work before me!" + +"And later on, I suppose, you would like a chop or something to take +away in your pocket?" + +"I will think it over. Possibly a little soup. My needs are very +simple these days." + +Jill watched him with a growing sense of satisfaction. There was +something boyishly engaging about this man. She felt at home with him. +He affected her in much the same way as did Freddie Rooke. He was a +definite addition to the things that went to make her happy. + +She liked him particularly for being such a good loser. She had +always been a good loser herself, and the quality was one which she +admired. It was nice of him to dismiss from his conversation--and +apparently from his thoughts--that night's fiasco and all that it must +have cost him. She wondered how much he had lost. Certainly something +very substantial. Yet it seemed to trouble him not at all. Jill +considered his behaviour gallant, and her heart warmed to him. This +was how a man ought to take the slings and arrows of outrageous +fortune. + +Wally sighed contentedly, and leaned back in his chair. + +"An unpleasant exhibition!" he said apologetically. "But unavoidable. +And, anyway, I take it that you prefer to have me well-fed and happy +about the place than swooning on the floor with starvation. A +wonderful thing, food! I am now ready to converse intelligently on any +subject you care to suggest. I have eaten rose-leaves and am no more a +golden ass, so to speak. What shall we talk about?" + +"Tell me about yourself." + +"There is no nobler topic. But what aspect of myself do you wish me to +touch on? My thoughts, my tastes, my amusements, my career, or what? I +can talk about myself for hours. My friends in New York often complain +about it bitterly." + +"New York?" said Jill. "Oh, then you live in America?" + +"Yes. I only came over here to see that darned false alarm of a play +of mine put on." + +"Why didn't you put it on in New York?" + +"Too many of the lads of the village know me over there. This was a +new departure, you see. What the critics in those parts expect from me +is something entitled 'Wow! Wow!' or 'The Girl from Yonkers.' It would +have unsettled their minds to find me breaking out in poetic drama. +They are men of coarse fibre and ribald mind and they would have been +funny about it. I thought it wiser to come over here among strangers, +little thinking that I should sit in the next seat to somebody I had +known all my life." + +"But when did you go to America? And why?" + +"I think it must have been four--five--well, quite a number of years +after the hose episode. Probably you didn't observe that I wasn't +still around, but we crept silently out of the neighbourhood round +about that time and went to live in London." His tone lost its +lightness momentarily. "My father died, you know, and that sort of +broke things up. He didn't leave any too much money, either. +Apparently we had been living on rather too expensive a scale during +the time I knew you. At any rate, I was more or less up against it +until your father got me a job in an office in New York." + +"My father!" + +"Yes. It was wonderfully good of him to bother about me. I didn't +suppose he would have known me by sight, and, even if he had +remembered me, I shouldn't have imagined that the memory would have +been a pleasant one. But he couldn't have taken more trouble if I had +been a blood-relation." + +"That was just like father," said Jill softly. + +"He was a prince." + +"But you aren't in the office now?" + +"No. I found I had a knack of writing verses and things, and I wrote a +few vaudeville songs. Then I came across a man named Bevan at a music +publisher's. He was just starting to write music, and we got together +and turned out some vaudeville sketches, and then a manager sent for +us to fix up a show that was dying on the road and we had the good +luck to turn it into a success, and after that it was pretty good +going. George Bevan got married the other day. Lucky devil!" + +"Are you married?" + +"No." + +"You were faithful to my memory?" said Jill with a smile. + +"I was." + +"It can't last," said Jill, shaking her head. "One of these days +you'll meet some lovely American girl and then you'll put a worm down +her back or pull her hair or whatever it is you do when you want to +show your devotion, and.... What are you looking at? Is something +interesting going on behind me?" + +He had been looking past her out into the room. + +"It's nothing," he said. "Only there's a statuesque old lady about two +tables back of you who has been staring at you, with intervals for +refreshment, for the last five minutes. You seem to fascinate her." + +"An old lady?" + +"Yes. With a glare! She looks like Dunsany's Bird of the Difficult +Eye. Count ten and turn carelessly round, There, at that table. Almost +behind you." + +"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Jill. + +She turned quickly round again. + +"What's the matter? Do you know her? Somebody you don't want to meet?" + +"It's Lady Underhill! And Derek's with her!" + +Wally had been lifting his glass. He put it down rather suddenly. + +"Derek?" he said. + +"Derek Underhill. The man I'm engaged to marry." + +There was a moment's silence. + +"Oh!" said Wally thoughtfully. "The man you're engaged to marry? Yes, +I see!" + +He raised his glass again, and drank its contents quickly. + + +II + +Jill looked at her companion anxiously. Recent events had caused her +completely to forget the existence of Lady Underhill. She was always +so intensely interested in what she happened to be doing at the moment +that she often suffered these temporary lapses of memory. It occurred +to her now--too late, as usual--that the Savoy Hotel was the last +place in London where she should have come to supper with Wally. It +was the hotel where Lady Underhill was staying. She frowned. Life had +suddenly ceased to be careless and happy, and had become a +problem-ridden thing, full of perplexity and misunderstandings. + +"What shall I do?" + +Wally Mason started at the sound of her voice. He appeared to be deep +in thoughts of his own. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"What shall I do?" + +"I shouldn't be worried." + +"Derek will be awfully cross." + +Wally's good-humoured mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. + +"Why?" he said. "There's nothing wrong in your having supper with an +old friend." + +"N-no," said Jill doubtfully. "But...." + +"Derek Underhill," said Wally reflectively. "Is that Sir Derek +Underhill, whose name one's always seeing in the papers?" + +"Derek is in the papers a lot. He's an M.P. and all sorts of things." + +"Good-looking fellow. Ah, here's the coffee." + +"I don't want any, thanks." + +"Nonsense. Why spoil your meal because of this? Do you smoke?" + +"No, thanks." + +"Given it up, eh? Daresay you're wise. Stunts the growth and increases +the expenses." + +"Given it up?" + +"Don't you remember sharing one of your father's cigars with me behind +the haystack in the meadow? We cut it in half. I finished my half, but +I fancy about three puffs were enough for you. Those were happy days!" + +"That one wasn't! Of course I remember it now. I don't suppose I shall +ever forget it." + +"The thing was my fault, as usual. I recollect I dared you." + +"Yes. I always took a dare." + +"Do you still?" + +"What do you mean?" + +Wally knocked the ash off his cigarette. + +"Well," he said slowly, "suppose I were to dare you to get up and walk +over to that table and look your fiancé in the eye and say, 'Stop +scowling at my back hair! I've a perfect right to be supping with an +old friend!'--would you do it?" + +"Is he?" said Jill startled. + +"Scowling? Can't you feel it on the back of your head?" He drew +thoughtfully at his cigarette. "If I were you I should stop that sort +of thing at the source. It's a habit that can't be discouraged in a +husband too early. Scowling is the civilized man's substitute for +wife-beating." + +Jill moved uncomfortably in her chair. Her quick temper resented his +tone. There was a hostility, a hardly veiled contempt in his voice +which stung her. Derek was sacred. Whoever criticised him, presumed. +Wally, a few minutes before a friend and an agreeable companion, +seemed to her to have changed. He was once more the boy whom she had +disliked in the old days. There was a gleam in her eyes which should +have warned him, but he went on. + +"I should imagine that this Derek of yours is not one of our leading +sunbeams. Well, I suppose he could hardly be, if that's his mother and +there is anything in heredity." + +"Please don't criticise Derek," said Jill coldly. + +"I was only saying...." + +"Never mind. I don't like it." + +A slow flush crept over Wally's face. He made no reply, and there fell +between them a silence that was like a shadow, Jill sipped her coffee +miserably. She was regretting that little spurt of temper. She wished +she could have recalled the words. Not that it was the actual words +that had torn asunder this gossamer thing, the friendship which they +had begun to weave like some fragile web: it was her manner, the +manner of the princess rebuking an underling. She knew that, if she +had struck him, she could not have offended Wally more deeply. There +are some men whose ebullient natures enable them to rise unscathed +from the worst snub. Wally, her intuition told her, was not that kind +of man. + +There was only one way of mending the matter. In these clashes of +human temperaments, these sudden storms that spring up out of a clear +sky, it is possible sometimes to repair the damage, if the +psychological moment is resolutely seized, by talking rapidly and with +detachment on neutral topics. Words have made the rift, and words +alone can bridge it. But neither Jill nor her companion could find +words, and the silence lengthened grimly. When Wally spoke, it was in +the level tones of a polite stranger. + +"Your friends have gone." + +His voice was the voice in which, when she went on railway journeys, +fellow-travellers in the carriage enquired of Jill if she would prefer +the window up or down. It had the effect of killing her regrets and +feeding her resentment. She was a girl who never refused a challenge, +and she set herself to be as frigidly polite and aloof as he. + +"Really?" she said. "When did they leave?" + +"A moment ago." The lights gave the warning flicker that announces the +arrival of the hour of closing. In the momentary darkness they both +rose. Wally scrawled his name across the bill which the waiter had +insinuated upon his attention. "I suppose we had better be moving?" + +They crossed the room in silence. Everybody was moving in the same +direction. The broad stairway leading to the lobby was crowded with +chattering supper-parties. The light had gone up again. + +At the cloak-room Wally stopped. + +"I see Underhill waiting up there," he said casually. "To take you +home, I suppose. Shall we say good-night? I'm staying in the hotel." + +Jill glanced towards the head of the stairs. Derek was there. He was +alone. Lady Underhill presumably had gone up to her room in the +elevator. + +Wally was holding out his hand. His face was stolid and his eyes +avoided hers. + +"Good-bye," he said. + +"Good-bye," said Jill. + +She felt curiously embarrassed. At this last moment hostility had +weakened, and she was conscious of a desire to make amends. She and +this man had been through much together that night, much that was +perilous and much that was pleasant. A sudden feeling of remorse came +over her. + +"You'll come and see us, won't you?" she said a little wistfully. "I'm +sure my uncle would like to meet you again." + +"It's very good of you," said Wally, "but I'm afraid I shall be going +back to America at any moment now." + +Pique, that ally of the devil, regained its slipping grip upon Jill. + +"Oh? I'm sorry," she said indifferently. "Well, good-bye, then." + +"Good-bye." + +"I hope you have a pleasant voyage." + +"Thanks." + +He turned into the cloak-room, and Jill went up the stairs to join +Derek. She felt angry and depressed, full of a sense of the futility +of things. People flashed into one's life and out again. Where was the +sense of it? + + +III + +Derek had been scowling, and Derek still scowled. His eyebrows were +formidable, and his mouth smiled no welcome at Jill as she approached +him. The evening, portions of which Jill had found so enjoyable, had +contained no pleasant portions for Derek. Looking back over a lifetime +whose events had been almost uniformly agreeable, he told himself +that he could not recall another day which had gone so completely +awry. It had started with the fog. He hated fog. Then had come that +meeting with his mother at Charing Cross, which had been enough to +upset him by itself. After that, rising to a crescendo of +unpleasantness, the day had provided that appalling situation at the +Albany, the recollection of which still made him tingle; and there had +followed the silent dinner, the boredom of the early part of the play, +the fire at the theatre, the undignified scramble for the exits, and +now this discovery of the girl whom he was engaged to marry supping at +the Savoy with a fellow he didn't remember ever having seen in his +life. All these things combined to induce in Derek a mood bordering on +ferocity. His birth and income combining to make him one of the +spoiled children of the world, had fitted him ill for such a series of +catastrophes. He received Jill with frozen silence and led her out to +the waiting taxi-cab. It was only when the cab had started on its +journey that he found relief in speech. + +"Well," he said, mastering with difficulty an inclination to raise his +voice to a shout, "perhaps you will kindly explain?" + +Jill had sunk back against the cushions of the cab. The touch of his +body against hers always gave her a thrill, half pleasurable, half +frightening. She had never met anybody who affected her in this way as +Derek did. She moved a little closer, and felt for his hand. But, as +she touched it, it retreated--coldly. Her heart sank. It was like +being cut in public by somebody very dignified. + +"Derek, darling!" Her lips trembled. Others had seen this side of +Derek Underhill frequently, for he was a man who believed in keeping +the world in its place, but she never. To her he had always been the +perfect, gracious knight. A little too perfect, perhaps, a trifle too +gracious, possibly, but she had been too deeply in love to notice +that. "Don't be cross!" + +The English language is the richest in the world, and yet somehow in +moments when words count most we generally choose the wrong ones. The +adjective "cross" as a description of his Jove-like wrath that +consumed his whole being jarred upon Derek profoundly. It was as +though Prometheus, with the vultures tearing his liver, had been asked +if he were piqued. + +"Cross!" + +The cab rolled on. Lights from lamp-posts flashed in at windows. It +was a pale, anxious little face that they lit up when they shone upon +Jill. + +"I can't understand you," said Derek at last. Jill noticed that he had +not yet addressed her by her name. He was speaking straight out in +front of him as if he were soliloquising. "I simply cannot understand +you. After what happened before dinner to-night, for you to cap +everything by going off alone to supper at a restaurant, where half +the people in the room must have known you, with a man...." + +"You don't understand!" + +"Exactly! I said I did not understand." The feeling of having scored a +point made Derek feel a little better. "I admit it. Your behaviour is +incomprehensible. Where did you meet this fellow?" + +"I met him at the theatre. He was the author of the play." + +"The man you told me you had been talking to? The fellow who scraped +acquaintance with you between the acts?" + +"But I found out he was an old friend. I mean, I knew him when I was a +child." + +"You didn't tell me that." + +"I only found it out later." + +"After he had invited you to supper! It's maddening!" cried Derek, the +sense of his wrongs surging back over him. "What do you suppose my +mother thought? She asked me who the man with you was. I had to say I +didn't know! What do you suppose she thought?" + +It is to be doubted whether anything else in the world could have +restored the fighting spirit to Jill's cowering soul at that moment; +but the reference to Lady Underhill achieved this miracle. That deep +mutual antipathy which is so much more common than love at first sight +had sprung up between the two at the instant of their meeting. The +circumstances of that meeting had caused it to take root and grow. To +Jill, Derek's mother was by this time not so much a fellow human being +whom she disliked as a something, a sort of force, that made for her +unhappiness. She was a menace and a loathing. + +"If your mother had asked me that question," she retorted with spirit, +"I should have told her that he was the man who got me safely out of +the theatre after you...." She checked herself. She did not want to +say the unforgivable thing. "You see," she said more quietly, "you had +disappeared...." + +"My mother is an old woman," said Derek stiffly. "Naturally I had to +look after her. I called to you to follow." + +"Oh, I understand. I'm simply trying to explain what happened. I was +there all alone, and Wally Mason...." + +"Wally!" Derek uttered a short laugh, almost a bark. "It got to +Christian names, eh?" + +Jill set her teeth. + +"I told you I knew him as a child. I always called him Wally then." + +"I beg your pardon. I had forgotten." + +"He got me out through the pass-door on to the stage and through the +stage-door." + +Derek was feeling cheated. He had the uncomfortable sensation that +comes to men who grandly contemplate mountains and see them dwindle to +molehills. The apparently outrageous had shown itself in explanation +nothing so out-of-the-way after all. He seized upon the single point +in Jill's behaviour that still constituted a grievance. + +"There was no need for you to go to supper with the man!" Jove-like +wrath had ebbed away to something deplorably like a querulous grumble. +"You should have gone straight home. You must have known how anxious I +would be about you." + +"Well, really, Derek, dear! You didn't seem so very anxious! You were +having supper yourself quite cosily." + +The human mind is curiously constituted. It is worthy of record that, +despite his mother's obvious disapproval of his engagement, despite +all the occurrences of this dreadful day, it was not till she made +this remark that Derek Underhill first admitted to himself that, +intoxicate his senses as she might, there was a possibility that Jill +Mariner was not the ideal wife for him. The idea came and went more +quickly than breath upon a mirror. It passed, but it had been. There +are men who fear repartee in a wife more keenly than a sword. Derek +was one of these. Like most men of single outlook, whose dignity is +their most precious possession, he winced from an edged tongue. + +"My mother was greatly upset," he replied coldly. "I thought a cup of +soup would do her good. And, as for being anxious about you, I +telephoned to your home to ask if you had come in." + +"And when," thought Jill, "they told you I hadn't, you went off to +supper!" + +She did not speak the words. If she had an edged tongue, she had also +the control of it. She had no wish to wound Derek. Whole-hearted in +everything she did, she loved him with her whole heart. There might be +specks upon her idol--that its feet might be clay she could never +believe--but they mattered nothing. She loved him. + +"I'm so sorry, dear," she said. "So awfully sorry! I've been a bad +girl, haven't I?" + +She felt for his hand again, and this time he allowed it to remain +stiffly in her grasp. It was like being grudgingly recognized by +somebody very dignified who had his doubts about you but reserved +judgment. + +The cab drew up at the door of the house in Ovingdon Square which +Jill's Uncle Christopher had settled upon as a suitable address for a +gentleman of his standing. Jill put up her face to be kissed, like a +penitent child. + +"I'll never be naughty again!" + +For a flickering instant Derek hesitated. The drive, long as it was, +had been too short wholly to restore his equanimity. Then the sense of +her nearness, her sweetness, the faint perfume of her hair, and her +eyes, shining softly in the darkness so close to his own, overcame +him. He crushed her to him. + +Jill disappeared into the house with a happy laugh. It had been a +terrible day, but it had ended well. + +"The Albany," said Derek to the cabman. + +He leaned back against the cushions. His senses were in a whirl. The +cab rolled on. Presently his exalted mood vanished as quickly as it +had come. Jill absent always affected him differently from Jill +present. He was not a man of strong imagination, and the stimulus of +her waned when she was not with him. Long before the cab reached the +Albany the frown was back on his face. + + +IV + +Arriving at the Albany, he found Freddie Rooke lying on his spine in a +deep arm-chair. His slippered feet were on the mantelpiece, and he was +restoring his wasted tissues with a strong whisky-and-soda. One of +the cigars which Barker, the valet, had stamped with the seal of his +approval was in the corner of his mouth. The _Sporting Times_, with a +perusal of which he had been soothing his fluttered nerves, had fallen +on the floor beside the chair. He had finished reading, and was now +gazing peacefully at the ceiling, his mind a perfect blank. There was +nothing the matter with Freddie. + +"Hullo, old thing," he observed as Derek entered. "So you buzzed out +of the fiery furnace all right? I was wondering how you had got along. +How are you feeling? I'm not the man I was! These things get the old +system all stirred up! I'll do anything in reason to oblige and help +things along and all that, but to be called on at a moment's notice to +play Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego rolled into one, without +rehearsal or make-up, is a bit too thick! No, young feller-me-lad! If +theatre fires are going to be the fashion this season, the Last of the +Rookes will sit quietly at home and play solitaire. Mix yourself a +drink of something, old man, or something of that kind. By the way, +your jolly old mater. All right? Not even singed? Fine! Make a long +arm and gather in a cigar." + +And Freddie, having exerted himself to play the host in a suitable +manner, wedged himself more firmly into his chair and blew a cloud of +smoke. + +Derek sat down. He lit a cigar, and stared silently at the fire. From +the mantelpiece Jill's photograph smiled down, but he did not look at +it. Presently his attitude began to weigh upon Freddie. Freddie had +had a trying evening What he wanted just now was merry prattle, and +his friend did not seem disposed to contribute his share. He removed +his feet from the mantelpiece and wriggled himself sideways, so that +he could see Derek's face. Its gloom touched him. Apart from his +admiration for Derek, he was a warmhearted young man, and sympathized +with affliction when it presented itself for his notice. + +"Something on your mind, old bean?" he enquired delicately. + +Derek did not answer for a moment. Then he reflected that, little as +he esteemed the other's mentality, he and Freddie had known each other +a long time, and that it would be a relief to confide in some one. And +Freddie, moreover, was an old friend of Jill and the man who had +introduced him to her. + +"Yes," he said. + +"I'm listening, old top," said Freddie. "Release the film." + +Derek drew at his cigar, and watched the smoke as it curled to the +ceiling. + +"It's about Jill." + +Freddie signified his interest by wriggling still further sideways. + +"Jill, eh?" + +"Freddie, she's so damned impulsive!" + +Freddie nearly rolled out of his chair. This, he took it, was what +writing-chappies called a coincidence. + +"Rummy you should say that," he ejaculated. "I was telling her exactly +the same thing myself only this evening." He hesitated. "I fancy I can +see what you're driving at, old thing. The watchword is 'What ho, the +mater!' yes, no? You've begun to get a sort of idea that if Jill +doesn't watch her step, she's apt to sink pretty low in the betting, +what? I know exactly what you mean! You and I know all right that +Jill's a topper. But one can see that to your mater she might seem a +bit different. I mean to say, your jolly old mater only judging by +first impressions, and the meeting not having come off quite as +scheduled.... I say, old man," he broke off, "fearfully sorry and all +that about that business. You know what I mean! Wouldn't have had it +happen for the world. I take it the mater was a trifle peeved? Not to +say perturbed and chagrined? I seemed to notice it at dinner." + +"She was furious, of course. She did not refer to the matter when we +were alone together, but there was no need to. I knew what she was +thinking." + +Derek threw away his cigar. Freddie noted this evidence of an +overwrought soul with concern. + +"The whole thing," he conceded, "was a bit unfortunate." + +Derek began to pace the room. + +"Freddie." + +"On the spot, old man." + +"Something's got to be done." + +"Absolutely!" Freddie nodded solemnly. He had taken this matter +greatly to heart. Derek was his best friend, and he had always been +extremely fond of Jill. It hurt him to see things going wrong. "I'll +tell you what, old bean. Let _me_ handle this binge for you." + +"You?" + +"Me! The Final Rooke!" He jumped up, and leaned against the +mantelpiece. "I'm the lad to do it. I've known Jill for years. She'll +listen to me. I'll talk to her like a Dutch uncle and make her +understand the general scheme of things. I'll take her out to tea +to-morrow and slang her in no uncertain voice! Leave the whole thing +to _me_, laddie!" + +Derek considered. + +"It might do some good," he said. + +"Good?" said Freddie. "It's _it_, dear boy! It's a wheeze! You toddle +off to bed and have a good sleep. I'll fix the whole thing for you!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +LADY UNDERHILL RECEIVES A SHOCK + +I + + +There are streets in London into which the sun seems never to +penetrate. Some of these are in fashionable quarters, and it is to be +supposed that their inhabitants find an address which looks well on +note-paper a sufficient compensation for the gloom that goes with it. +The majority, however, are in the mean neighbourhoods of the great +railway termini, and appear to offer no compensation whatever. They +are lean, furtive streets, grey as the January sky with a sort of +arrested decay. They smell of cabbage and are much prowled over by +vagrom cats. At night they are empty and dark, and a stillness broods +on them, broken only by the cracked tingle of an occasional piano +playing one of the easier hymns, a form of music to which the dwellers +in the dingy houses are greatly addicted. By day they achieve a +certain animation through the intermittent appearance of women in +aprons, who shake rugs out of the front doors or, emerging from areas, +go down to the public-house on the corner with jugs to fetch the +supper-beer. In almost every ground-floor window there is a card +announcing that furnished lodgings may be had within. You will find +these streets by the score if you leave the main thoroughfares and +take a short cut on your way to Euston, to Paddington, or to Waterloo. +But the dingiest and deadliest and most depressing lie round about +Victoria. And Daubeny Street, Pimlico, is one of the worst of them +all. + +On the afternoon following the events recorded, a girl was dressing in +the ground-floor room of Number Nine, Daubeny Street. A tray bearing +the remains of a late breakfast stood on the rickety table beside a +bowl of wax flowers. From beneath the table peered the green cover of +a copy of _Variety_. A grey parrot in a cage by the window cracked +seed and looked out into the room with a satirical eye. He had seen +all this so many times before--Nelly Bryant arraying herself in her +smartest clothes to go out and besiege agents in their offices off the +Strand. It happened every day. In an hour or two she would come back +as usual, say "Oh, Gee!" in a tired sort of voice, and then Bill the +parrot's day proper would begin. He was a bird who liked the sound of +his own voice, and he never got the chance of a really sustained +conversation till Nelly returned in the evening. + +"Who cares?" said Bill, and cracked another seed. + +If rooms are an indication of the characters of their occupants, Nelly +Bryant came well out of the test of her surroundings. Nothing can make +a London furnished room much less horrible than it intends to be, but +Nelly had done her best. The furniture, what there was of it, was of +that lodging-house kind which resembles nothing else in the world. But +a few little touches here and there, a few instinctively tasteful +alterations in the general scheme of things, had given the room almost +a cosy air. Later on, with the gas lit, it would achieve something +approaching homeliness. Nelly, like many another nomad, had taught +herself to accomplish a good deal with poor material. On tour in +America, she had sometimes made even a bedroom in a small hotel +tolerably comfortable, than which there is no greater achievement. +Oddly, considering her life, she had a genius for domesticity. + +To-day, not for the first time, Nelly was feeling unhappy. The face +that looked back at her out of the mirror at which she was arranging +her most becoming hat was weary. It was only a moderately pretty face, +but loneliness and underfeeding had given it a wistful expression that +had charm. Unfortunately, it was not the sort of charm which made a +great appeal to the stout, whisky-nourished men who sat behind +paper-littered tables, smoking cigars, in the rooms marked "Private" +in the offices of theatrical agents. Nelly had been out of a "shop" +now for many weeks--ever since, in fact, "Follow the Girl" had +finished its long run at the Regal Theatre. + +"Follow the Girl," an American musical comedy, had come over from New +York with an American company, of which Nelly had been a humble unit, +and, after playing a year in London and some weeks in the number one +towns, had returned to New York. It did not cheer Nelly up in the long +evenings in Daubeny Street to reflect that, if she had wished, she +could have gone home with the rest of the company. A mad impulse had +seized her to try her luck in London, and here she was now, marooned. + +"Who cares?" said Bill. + +For a bird who enjoyed talking he was a little limited in his remarks +and apt to repeat himself. + +"I do, you poor fish!" said Nelly, completing her manoeuvres with +the hat and turning to the cage. "It's all right for you--you have a +swell time with nothing to do but sit there and eat seed--but how do +you suppose I enjoy tramping around looking for work and never finding +any?" + +She picked up her gloves. "Oh, well!" she said. "Wish me luck!" + +"Good-bye, boy!" said the parrot, clinging to the bars. + +Nelly thrust a finger into the cage, and scratched his head. + +"Anxious to get rid of me, aren't you? Well, so long." + +"Good-bye, boy!" + +"All right, I'm going. Be good!" + +"Woof-woof-woof!" barked Bill the parrot, not committing himself to +any promises. + +For some moments after Nelly had gone he remained hunched on his +perch, contemplating the infinite. Then he sauntered along to the +seed-box and took some more light nourishment. He always liked to +spread his meals out, to make them last longer. A drink of water to +wash the food down, and he returned to the middle of the cage, where +he proceeded to conduct a few intimate researches with his beak under +his left wing. After which he mewed like a cat, and relapsed into +silent meditation once more. He closed his eyes and pondered on his +favourite problem--Why was he a parrot? This was always good for an +hour or so, and it was three o'clock before he had come to his +customary decision that he didn't know. Then, exhausted by brain-work +and feeling a trifle hipped by the silence of the room, he looked +about him for some way of jazzing existence up a little. It occurred +to him that if he barked again it might help. + +"Woof-woof-woof!" + +Good as far as it went, but it did not go far enough. It was not real +excitement. Something rather more dashing seemed to him to be +indicated. He hammered for a moment or two on the floor of his cage, +ate a mouthful of the newspaper there, and stood with his head on one +side, chewing thoughtfully. It didn't taste as good as usual. He +suspected Nelly of having changed his _Daily Mail_ for the _Daily +Express_ or something. He swallowed the piece of paper, and was struck +by the thought that a little climbing exercise might be what his soul +demanded. (You hang on by your beak and claws and work your way up to +the roof. It sounds tame, but it's something to do.) He tried it. And, +as he gripped the door of the cage it swung open. Bill the parrot now +perceived that this was going to be one of those days. He had not had +a bit of luck like this for months. + +For a while he sat regarding the open door. Unless excited by outside +influences, he never did anything in a hurry. Then proceeding +cautiously, he passed out into the room. He had been out there before, +but always chaperoned by Nelly. This was something quite different. It +was an adventure. He hopped on to the window-sill. There was a ball of +yellow wool there, but he had lunched and could eat nothing. He cast +around in his mind for something to occupy him, and perceived suddenly +that the world was larger than he had supposed. Apparently there was a +lot of it outside the room. How long this had been going on he did not +know, but obviously it was a thing to be investigated. The window was +open at the bottom, and just outside the window were what he took to +be the bars of another and larger cage. As a matter of fact they were +the railings which afforded a modest protection to Number Nine. They +ran the length of the house, and were much used by small boys as a +means of rattling sticks. One of these stick-rattlers passed as Bill +stood there looking down. The noise startled him for a moment, then he +seemed to come to the conclusion that this sort of thing was to be +expected if you went out into the great world and that a parrot who +intended to see life must not allow himself to be deterred by trifles. +He crooned a little, and finally, stepping in a stately way over the +window-sill, with his toes turned in at right angles, caught at the +top of the railing with his beak, and proceeded to lower himself. +Arrived at the level of the street, he stood looking out. + +A dog trotted up, spied him, and came to sniff. + +"Good-bye, boy!" said Bill chattily. + +The dog was taken aback. Hitherto, in his limited experience, birds +had been birds and men men. Here was a blend of the two. What was to +be done about it? He barked tentatively, then, finding that nothing +disastrous ensued, pushed his nose between two of the bars and barked +again. Any one who knew Bill could have told him that he was asking +for it, and he got it. Bill leaned forward and nipped his nose. The +dog started back with a howl of agony. He was learning something new +every minute. + +"Woof-woof-woof!" said Bill sardonically. + +He perceived trousered legs, four of them, and, cocking his eye +upwards, saw that two men of the lower orders stood before him. They +were gazing down at him in the stolid manner peculiar to the +proletariat of London in the presence of the unusual. For some minutes +they stood drinking him in, then one of them gave judgment. + +"It's a parrot!" He removed a pipe from his mouth and pointed with the +stem. "A perishin' parrot, Erb." + +"Ah!" said Erb, a man of few words. + +"A parrot," proceeded the other. He was seeing clearer into the matter +every moment. "That's a parrot, that is Erb. My brother Joe's wife's +sister had one of 'em. Come from abroad, _they_ do. My brother Joe's +wife's sister 'ad one of 'em. Red-'aired gel she was. Married a feller +down at the Docks _She_ 'ad one of 'em. Parrots they're called." + +He bent down for a closer inspection, and inserted a finger through +the railings. Erb abandoned his customary taciturnity and spoke words +of warning. + +"Tike care 'e don't sting yer, 'Enry!" + +Henry seemed wounded. + +"Woddyer mean, sting me? I know all abart parrots, I do. My brother +Joe's wife's sister 'ad one of 'em. They don't 'urt yer, not if you're +kind to 'em. You know yer pals when you see 'em, don't yer, mate?" he +went on, addressing Bill, who was contemplating the finger with one +half-closed eye. + +"Good-bye, boy," said the parrot, evading the point. + +"Jear that?" cried Henry delightedly. "'Goo'-bye, boy!' 'Uman they +are!" + +"'E'll 'ave a piece out of yer finger," warned Erb the suspicious. + +"Wot, 'im?" Henry's voice was indignant. He seemed to think that his +reputation as an expert on parrots had been challenged. "'E wouldn't +'ave no piece out of my finger." + +"Bet yer a narf-pint 'e would 'ave a piece out of yer finger," +persisted the sceptic. + +"No blinkin' parrot's goin' to 'ave no piece of no finger of mine! My +brother Joe's wife's sister's parrot never 'ad no piece out of no +finger of mine!" He extended the finger further and waggled it +enticingly beneath Bill's beak. "Cheerio, matey!" he said winningly. +"Polly want a nut?" + +Whether it was mere indolence or whether the advertised docility of +that other parrot belonging to Henry's brother's wife's sister had +caused him to realize that there was a certain standard of good +conduct for his species one cannot say; but for a while Bill merely +contemplated temptation with a detached eye. + +"See!" said Henry. + +"Woof-woof-woof!" said Bill. + +"_Wow-Wow-Wow_!" yapped the dog, suddenly returning to the scene and +going on with the argument at the point where he had left off. + +The effect on Bill was catastrophic. Ever a high-strung bird, he lost +completely the repose which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere and the +better order of parrot. His nerves were shocked, and, as always under +such conditions, his impulse was to bite blindly. He bit, and +Henry--one feels sorry for Henry: he was a well-meaning man--leaped +back with a loud howl. + +"'That'll be 'arf a pint," said Erb, always the business man. + +There was a lull in the rapid action. The dog, mumbling softly to +himself, had moved away again and was watching affairs from the edge +of the sidewalk. Erb, having won his point, was silent once more. +Henry sucked his finger. Bill, having met the world squarely and shown +it what was what, stood where he was, whistling nonchalantly. + +Henry removed his finger from his mouth. "Lend the loan of that stick +of yours, Erb," he said tensely. + +Erb silently yielded up the stout stick which was his inseparable +companion. Henry, a vastly different man from the genial saunterer of +a moment ago, poked wildly through the railings. Bill, panic-stricken +now and wishing for nothing better than to be back in his cosy cage, +shrieked loudly for help. And Freddie Rooke, running round the corner +with Jill, stopped dead and turned pale. + +"Good God!" said Freddie. + + +II + +In pursuance of his overnight promise to Derek, Freddie Rooke had got +in touch with Jill through the medium of the telephone immediately +after breakfast, and had arranged to call at Ovingdon Square in the +afternoon. Arrived there, he found Jill with a telegram in her hand. +Her Uncle Christopher, who had been enjoying a breath of sea-air down +at Brighton, was returning by an afternoon train, and Jill had +suggested that Freddie should accompany her to Victoria, pick up Uncle +Chris, and escort him home. Freddie, whose idea had been a +_tęte-ŕ-tęte_ involving a brotherly lecture on impetuosity, had +demurred but had given way in the end; and they had set out to walk to +Victoria together. Their way had lain through Daubeny Street, and they +turned the corner just as the brutal onslaught on the innocent Henry +had occurred. Bill's shrieks, which were of an appalling timbre, +brought them to a halt. + +"What is it?" cried Jill. + +"It sounds like a murder!" + +"Nonsense!" + +"I don't know, you know. This is the sort of street chappies are +murdering people in all the time." + +They caught sight of the group in front of them, and were reassured. +Nobody could possibly be looking so aloof and distrait as Erb if there +were a murder going on. + +"It's a bird!" + +"It's a jolly old parrot. See it? Just inside the railings." + +A red-hot wave of rage swept over Jill. Whatever her defects--and +already this story has shown her far from perfect--she had the +excellent quality of loving animals and blazing into fury when she saw +them ill-treated. At least three draymen were going about London with +burning ears as the result of what she had said to them on discovering +them abusing their patient horses. Zoologically, Bill the parrot was +not an animal, but he counted as one with Jill, and she sped down +Daubeny Street to his rescue--Freddie, spatted and hatted and +trousered as became the man of fashion, following disconsolately, +ruefully aware that he did not look his best sprinting like that. But +Jill was cutting out a warm pace, and he held his hat on with one +neatly-gloved hand and did what he could to keep up. + +Jill reached the scene of battle, and, stopping, eyed Henry with a +baleful glare. We, who have seen Henry in his calmer moments and know +him for the good fellow he was, are aware that he was more sinned +against than sinning. If there is any spirit of justice in us, we are +pro-Henry. In his encounter with Bill the parrot, Henry undoubtedly +had right on his side. His friendly overtures, made in the best spirit +of kindliness, had been repulsed. He had been severely bitten. And he +had lost half a pint of beer to Erb. As impartial judges we have no +other course before us than to wish Henry luck and bid him go to it. +But Jill, who had not seen the opening stages of the affair, thought +far otherwise. She merely saw in Henry a great brute of a man poking +at a defenceless bird with a stick. + +She turned to Freddie, who had come up at a gallop and was wondering +why the deuce this sort of thing happened to him out of a city of six +millions. + +"Make him stop, Freddie!" + +"Oh, I say, you know, what?" + +"Can't you see he's hurting the poor thing? Make him leave off! +Brute!" she added to Henry (for whom one's heart bleeds), as he jabbed +once again at his adversary. + +Freddie stepped reluctantly up to Henry, and tapped him on the +shoulder. Freddie was one of those men who have a rooted idea that a +conversation of this sort can only be begun by a tap on the shoulder. + +"'Look here, you know, you can't do this sort of thing, you know!" +said Freddie. + +Henry raised a scarlet face. + +"'Oo are _you_?" he demanded. + +This attack from the rear, coming on top of his other troubles, tried +his restraint sorely. + +"Well--" Freddie hesitated. It seemed silly to offer the fellow one of +his cards. "Well, as a matter of fact, my name's Rooke...." + +"And who," pursued Henry, "arsked _you_ to come shoving your ugly mug +in 'ere?" + +"Well, if you put it that way...." + +"'E comes messing abart," said Henry complainingly, addressing the +universe, "and interfering in what don't concern 'im and mucking +around and interfering and messing abart.... Why," he broke off in a +sudden burst of eloquence, "I could eat two of you for a relish wiv me +tea, even if you '_ave_ got white spats!" + +Here Erb, who had contributed nothing to the conversation, remarked +"Ah!" and expectorated on the sidewalk. The point, one gathers, seemed +to Erb well taken. A neat thrust, was Erb's verdict. + +"Just because you've got white spats," proceeded Henry, on whose +sensitive mind these adjuncts of the costume of the well-dressed man +about town seemed to have made a deep and unfavourable impression, +"you think you can come mucking around and messing abart and +interfering and mucking around. This bird's bit me in the finger, and +'ere's the finger, if you don't believe me--and I'm going to twist 'is +ruddy neck, if all the perishers with white spats in London come +messing abart and mucking around, so you take them white spats of +yours 'ome and give 'em to the old woman to cook for your Sunday +dinner!" + +And Henry, having cleansed his stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff +which weighs upon the heart, shoved the stick energetically once more +through the railings. + +Jill darted forward. Always a girl who believed that, if you want a +thing well done, you must do it yourself, she had applied to Freddie +for assistance merely as a matter of form. All the time she had felt +that Freddie was a broken reed, and such he had proved himself. +Freddie's policy in this affair was obviously to rely on the magic of +speech, and any magic his speech might have had was manifestly offset +by the fact that he was wearing white spats and that Henry, +apparently, belonged to some sort of league or society which had for +its main object the discouragement of white spats. It was plainly no +good leaving the conduct of the campaign to Freddie. Whatever was to +be done must be done by herself. She seized the stick and wrenched it +out of Henry's hand. + +"Woof-woof-woof!" said Bill the parrot. + +No dispassionate auditor could have failed to detect the nasty ring of +sarcasm. It stung Henry. He was not normally a man who believed in +violence to the gentler sex outside a clump on the head of his missus +when the occasion seemed to demand it; but now he threw away the +guiding principles of a lifetime and turned on Jill like a tiger. + +"Gimme that stick!" + +"Get back!" + +"Here, I say, you know!" said Freddie. + +Henry, now thoroughly overwrought, made a rush at Jill; and Jill, who +had a straight eye, hit him accurately on the side of the head. + +"Goo!" said Henry, and sat down. + +And then, from behind Jill, a voice spoke. + +"What's all this?" + +A stout policeman had manifested himself from empty space. + +"This won't do!" said the policeman. + +Erb, who had been a silent spectator of the fray, burst into speech. + +"She 'it 'im!" + +The policeman looked at Jill. He was an officer of many years' experience +in the Force, and time had dulled in him that respect for good clothes +which he had brought with him from Little-Sudbury-in-the-Wold in the days +of his novitiate. Jill was well dressed, but, in the stirring epoch of the +Suffrage disturbances, the policeman had been kicked on the shins and even +bitten by ladies of an equally elegant exterior. Hearts, the policeman +knew, just as pure and fair may beat in Belgrave Square as in the lowlier +air of Seven Dials, but you have to pinch them just the same when they +disturb the peace. His gaze, as it fell upon Jill, red-handed as it were +with the stick still in her grasp, was stern. + +"Your name, please, and address, miss?" he said. + +A girl in blue with a big hat had come up, and was standing staring +open-mouthed at the group. At the sight of her Bill the parrot uttered +a shriek of welcome. Nelly Bryant had returned, and everything would +now be all right again. + +"Mariner," said Jill, pale and bright-eyed. "I live at Number +Twenty-two, Ovingdon Square." + +"And yours, sir?" + +"Mine? Oh, ah, yes. I see what you mean. Rooke, you know. F. L. Rooke. +I live at the Albany and all that sort of thing." + +The policeman made an entry in his note-book. + +"Officer," cried Jill, "this man was trying to kill that parrot and I +stopped him...." + +"Can't help that, miss. You 'adn't no right to hit a man with a stick. +You'll 'ave to come along." + +"But, I say, you know!" Freddie was appalled. This sort of thing had +happened to him before, but only on Boat-Race Night at the Empire, +where it was expected of a chappie. "I mean to say!" + +"And you, too, sir. You're both in it." + +"But...." + +"Oh, come along, Freddie," said Jill quietly. "It's perfectly absurd, +but it's no use making a fuss." + +"That," said the policeman cordially, "is the right spirit!" + + +III + +Lady Underhill paused for breath. She had been talking long and +vehemently. She and Derek were sitting in Freddie Rooke's apartment at +the Albany, and the subject of her monologue was Jill. Derek had been +expecting the attack, and had wondered why it had not come before. All +through supper on the previous night, even after the discovery that +Jill was supping at a near-by table with a man who was a stranger to +her son, Lady Underhill had preserved a grim reticence with regard to +her future daughter-in-law. But to-day she had spoken her mind with +all the energy which comes of suppression. She had relieved herself +with a flow of words of all the pent-up hostility that had been +growing within her since that first meeting in this same room. She had +talked rapidly, for she was talking against time. The Town Council of +the principal city in Derek's constituency in the north of England had +decided that to-morrow morning should witness the laying of the +foundation stone of their new Town Hall, and Derek as the sitting +member was to preside at the celebration. Already Barker had been +dispatched to telephone for a cab to take him to the station, and at +any moment their conversation might be interrupted. So Lady Underhill +made the most of what little time she had. + +Derek listened gloomily, scarcely rousing himself to reply. His mother +would have been gratified could she have known how powerfully her +arguments were working on him. That little imp of doubt which had +vexed him in the cab as he drove home from Ovingdon Square had not +died in the night. It had grown and waxed more formidable. And now, +aided by this ally from without, it had become a Colossus straddling +his soul. Derek looked frequently at the clock, and cursed the unknown +cabman whose delay was prolonging the scene. Something told him that +only flight could serve him now. He never had been able to withstand +his mother in one of her militant moods. She seemed to numb his +faculties. Other members of his family had also noted this quality in +Lady Underhill, and had commented on it bitterly in the smoking-rooms +of distant country-houses at the hour when men meet to drink the final +whisky-and-soda and unburden their souls. + +Lady Underhill, having said all she had to say, recovered her breath +and began to say it again. Frequent iteration was one of her strongest +weapons. As her brother Edwin, who was fond of homely imagery, had +often observed, she could talk the hind-leg off a donkey. + +"You must be mad, Derek, to dream of handicapping yourself at this +vital stage of your career with a wife who not only will not be a help +to you, but must actually be a ruinous handicap. I am not blaming you +for imagining yourself in love in the first place, though I really +should have thought that a man of your strength and character +would.... However, as I say, I am not blaming you for that. +Superficially, no doubt, this girl might be called attractive. I do +not admire the type myself, but I suppose she has that quality--in my +time we should have called it boldness--which seems to appeal to the +young men of to-day. I could imagine her fascinating a weak-minded +imbecile like your friend Mr. Rooke. But that you.... Still, there is +no need to go into that. What I am trying to point out is that in +your position, with a career like yours in front of you--it's quite +certain that in a year or two you will be offered some really big and +responsible position--you would be insane to tie yourself to a girl +who seems to have been allowed to run perfectly wild, whose uncle is a +swindler...." + +"She can't be blamed for her uncle." + +"... Who sups alone with strange men in public restaurants...." + +"I explained that." + +"You may have explained it. You certainly did not excuse it or make it +a whit less outrageous. You cannot pretend that you really imagine +that an engaged girl is behaving with perfect correctness when she +allows a man she has only just met to take her to supper at the Savoy, +even if she did know him slightly years and years ago. It is very +idyllic to suppose that a childhood acquaintance excuses every breach +of decorum, but I was brought up to believe otherwise. I don't wish to +be vulgar, but what it amounts to is that this girl was having +supper--supper! In my days girls were in bed at supper-time!--with a +strange man who picked her up at a theatre!" + +Derek shifted uneasily. There was a part of his mind which called upon +him to rise up and challenge the outrageous phrase and demand that it +be taken back. But he remained silent. The imp-Colossus was too strong +for him. She is quite right, said the imp. That is an unpleasant but +accurate description of what happened. He looked at the clock again, +and wished for the hundredth time that the cab would come. Jill's +photograph smiled at him from beside the clock. He looked away, for, +when he found his eyes upon it, he had an odd sensation of baseness, +as if he were playing some one false who loved and trusted him. + +"Well, I am not going to say any more," she said, getting up and +buttoning her glove. "I will leave you to think it over. All I will +say is that, though I only met her yesterday, I can assure you that I +am quite confident that this girl is just the sort of harum-scarum +so-called 'modern' girl who is sure some day to involve herself in a +really serious scandal. I don't want her to be in a position to drag +you into it as well. Yes, Barker, what is it? Is Sir Derek's cab +here?" + +The lantern-jawed Barker had entered softly, and was standing +deferentially in the doorway. There was no emotion on his face beyond +the vague sadness which a sense of what was correct made him always +wear like a sort of mask when in the presence of those of superior +station. + +"The cab will be at the door very shortly, m'lady. If you please, Sir +Derek, a policeman has come with a message." + +"A policeman?" + +"With a message from Mr. Rooke." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I have had a few words of conversation with the constable, sir," said +Barker sadly, "and I understand from him that Mr. Rooke and Miss +Mariner have been arrested." + +"Arrested! What are you talking about?" + +"Mr. Rooke desired the officer to ask you to be good enough to step +round and bail them out!" + +The gleam in Lady Underhill's eye became a flame, but she controlled +her voice. + +"Why were Miss Mariner and Mr. Rooke arrested, Barker?" + +"As far as I can gather, m'lady, Miss Mariner struck a man in the +street with a stick, and they took both her and Mr. Rooke to the +Chelsea Police Station." + +Lady Underhill glanced at Derek, who was looking into the fire. + +"This is a little awkward, Derek," she said suavely. "If you go to the +police-station, you will miss your train." + +"I fancy, m'lady, it would be sufficient if Sir Derek were to dispatch +me with a cheque for ten pounds." + +"Very well. Tell the policeman to wait a moment." + +"Very good, m'lady." + +Derek roused himself with an effort. His face was drawn and gloomy. He +sat down at the writing-table, and took out his cheque-book. There was +silence for a moment, broken only by the scratching of the pen. Barker +took the cheque and left the room. + +"Now, perhaps," said Lady Underhill, "you will admit that I was +right!" She spoke in almost an awed voice, for this occurrence at just +this moment seemed to her very like a direct answer to prayer. "You +can't hesitate now! You _must_ free yourself from this detestable +entanglement!" + +Derek rose without speaking. He took his coat and hat from where they +lay on a chair. + +"Derek! You will! Say you will!" + +Derek put on his coat. + +"Derek!" + +"For heaven's sake, leave me alone, mother. I want to think." + +"Very well. I will leave you to think it over, then." Lady Underhill +moved to the door. At the door she paused for a moment, and seemed +about to speak again, but her mouth closed resolutely. She was a +shrewd woman, and knew that the art of life is to know when to stop +talking. What words have accomplished, too many words can undo. + +"Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, mother." + +"I'll see you when you get back?" + +"Yes. No. I don't know. I'm not certain when I shall return. I may go +away for a bit." + +The door closed behind Lady Underhill. Derek sat down again at the +writing-table. He wrote a few words on a sheet of paper, then tore it +up. His eye travelled to the mantelpiece. Jill's photograph smiled +happily down at him. He turned back to the writing-table, took out a +fresh piece of paper, thought for a few moments, and began to write +again. + +The door opened softly. + +"The cab is at the door, Sir Derek," said Barker. + +Derek addressed an envelope, and got up. + +"All right. Thanks. Oh, Barker, stop at a district-messenger office on +your way to the police-station, and have this sent off at once." + +"Very good, Sir Derek," said Barker. + +Derek's eyes turned once more to the mantelpiece. He stood looking for +an instant, then walked quickly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +UNCLE CHRIS BANGS THE TABLE + +I + + +A taxi-cab stopped at the door of Number Twenty-two, Ovingdon Square. +Freddie Rooke emerged, followed by Jill. While Freddie paid the +driver, Jill sniffed the afternoon air happily. It had turned into a +delightful day. A westerly breeze, springing up in the morning, had +sent the thermometer up with a run and broken the cold spell which had +been gripping London. It was one of those afternoons which intrude on +the bleakness of winter with a false but none the less agreeable +intimation that Spring is on its way. The sidewalks were wet +underfoot, and the gutters ran with thawed snow. The sun shone +exhilaratingly from a sky the colour of a hedge-sparrow's egg. + +"Doesn't everything smell lovely, Freddie," said Jill, "after our +prison-life!" + +"Topping!" + +"Fancy getting out so quickly! Whenever I'm arrested, I must always +make a point of having a rich man with me. I shall never tease you +about that fifty-pound note again." + +"Fifty-pound note?" + +"It certainly came in handy to-day!" + +She was opening the door with her latch-key, and missed the sudden +sagging of Freddie's jaw, the sudden clutch at his breast-pocket, and +the look of horror and anguish that started into his eyes. Freddie was +appalled. Finding himself at the police-station penniless with the +exception of a little loose change, he had sent that message to Derek, +imploring assistance, as the only alternative to spending the night in +a cell, with Jill in another. He had realized that there was a risk of +Derek taking the matter hardly, and he had not wanted to get Jill into +trouble, but there seemed nothing else to do. If they remained where +they were overnight, the thing would get into the papers, and that +would be a thousand times worse. And if he applied for aid to Ronny +Devereux or Algy Martyn or anybody like that all London would know +about it next day. So Freddie, with misgivings, had sent the message +to Derek, and now Jill's words had reminded him that there was no need +to have done so. Years ago he had read somewhere or heard somewhere +about some chappie who always buzzed around with a sizable banknote +stitched into his clothes, and the scheme had seemed to him ripe to a +degree. You never knew when you might find yourself short of cash and +faced by an immediate call for the ready. He had followed the +chappie's example. And now, when the crisis had arrived, he had +forgotten--absolutely forgotten!--that he had the dashed thing on his +person at all. + +He followed Jill into the house, groaning in spirit, but thankful +that she had taken it for granted that he had secured their release in +the manner indicated. He did not propose to disillusion her. It would +be time enough to take the blame when the blame came along. Probably +old Derek would simply be amused and laugh at the whole bally affair +like a sportsman. Freddie cheered up considerably at the thought. + +Jill was talking to the parlourmaid whose head had popped up over the +banisters flanking the stairs that led to the kitchen. + +"Major Selby hasn't arrived yet, miss." + +"That's odd. I suppose he must have taken a later train." + +"There's a lady in the drawing-room, miss, waiting to see him. She +didn't give any name. She said she would wait till the major came. +She's been waiting a goodish while." + +"All right, Jane. Thanks. Will you bring up tea?" + +They walked down the hall. The drawing-room was on the ground floor, a +long, dim room that would have looked like a converted studio but for +the absence of bright light. A girl was sitting at the far end by the +fireplace. She rose as they entered. + +"How do you do?" said Jill. "I'm afraid my uncle has not come back +yet...." + +"Say!" cried the visitor. "You _did_ get out quick!" + +Jill was surprised. She had no recollection of ever having seen the +other before. Her visitor was a rather pretty girl, with a sort of +jaunty way of carrying herself which made a piquant contrast to her +tired eyes and wistful face. Jill took an immediate liking to her. She +looked so forlorn and pathetic. + +"My name's Nelly Bryant," said the girl. "That parrot belongs to me." + +"Oh, I see." + +"I heard you say to the cop that you lived here, so I came along to +tell your folks what had happened, so that they could do something. +The maid said that your uncle was expected any minute, so I waited." + +"That was awfully good of you." + +"Dashed good," said Freddie. + +"Oh, no! Honest, I don't know how to thank you for what you did. You +don't know what a pal Bill is to me. It would have broken me all up if +that plug-ugly had killed him." + +"But what a shame you had to wait so long." + +"I liked it." + +Nelly Bryant looked about the room wistfully. This was the sort of +room she sometimes dreamed about. She loved its subdued light and the +pulpy cushions on the sofa. + +"You'll have some tea before you go, won't you?" said Jill, switching +on the lights. + +"It's very kind of you." + +"Why, hullo!" said Freddie. "By Jove! I say! We've met before, what?" + +"Why, so we have!" + +"That lunch at Oddy's that young Threepwood gave, what?" + +"I wonder you remember." + +"Oh, I remember. Quite a time ago, eh? Miss Bryant was in that show. +'Follow the Girl,' Jill, at the Regal." + +"Oh, yes. I remember you took me to see it." + +"Dashed odd meeting again like this!" said Freddie. "Really rummy!" + +Jane, the parlourmaid, entering with tea, interrupted his comments. + +"You're American, then?" said Jill interested. "The whole company came +from New York, didn't they?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm half American myself, you know. I used to live in New York when I +was very small, but I've almost forgotten what it was like. I remember +a sort of overhead railway that made an awful noise...." + +"The Elevated!" murmured Nelly devoutly. A wave of home-sickness +seemed to choke her for a moment. + +"And the air. Like champagne. And a very blue sky." + +"Yes," said Nelly in a small voice. + +"I shouldn't half mind popping over New York for a bit," said Freddie, +unconscious of the agony he was inflicting. "I've met some very sound +sportsmen who came from there. You don't know a fellow named +Williamson, do you?" + +"I don't believe I do." + +"Or Oakes?" + +"No." + +"That's rummy! Oakes has lived in New York for years." + +"So have about seven million other people," interposed Jill. "Don't be +silly, Freddie. How would you like somebody to ask of you if you knew +a man named Jenkins in London?" + +"I _do_ know a man named Jenkins in London," replied Freddie +triumphantly. + +Jill poured out a cup of tea for her visitor, and looked at the clock. + +"I wonder where Uncle Chris has got to," she said. "He ought to be +here by now. I hope he hasn't got into any mischief among the wild +stockbrokers down at Brighton." + +Freddie laid down his cup on the table and uttered a loud snort. + +"Oh, Freddie, darling!" said Jill remorsefully. "I forgot! +Stockbrokers are a painful subject, aren't they!" She turned to Nelly. +"There's been an awful slump on the Stock Exchange to-day, and he +got--what was the word, Freddie?" + +"Nipped!" said Freddie with gloom. + +"Nipped!" + +"Nipped like the dickens!" + +"Nipped like the dickens!" Jill smiled at Nelly. "He had forgotten all +about it in the excitement of being a jailbird, and I went and +reminded him." + +Freddie sought sympathy from Nelly. + +"A silly ass at the club named Jimmy Monroe told me to take a flutter +in some rotten thing called Amalgamated Dyes. You know how it is, when +you're feeling devilish fit and cheery and all that after dinner, and +somebody sidles up to you and slips his little hand in yours and tells +you to do some fool thing. You're so dashed happy you simply say +'Right-ho, old bird! Make it so!' That's the way I got had!" + +Jill laughed unfeelingly. + +"It will do you good, Freddie. It'll stir you up and prevent you being +so silly again. Besides, you know you'll hardly notice it. You've much +too much money as it is." + +"It's not the money. It's the principle of the thing. I hate looking a +frightful chump." + +"Well, you needn't tell anybody. We'll keep it a secret. In fact, +we'll start at once, for I hear Uncle Chris outside. Let us dissemble. +We are observed!... Hullo, Uncle Chris!" + +She ran down the room, as the door opened, and kissed the tall, +soldierly man who entered. + +"Well, Jill, my dear." + +"How late you are. I was expecting you hours ago." + +"I had to call on my broker." + +"Hush! Hush!" + +"What's the matter?" + +"Nothing, nothing.... We've got visitors. You know Freddie Rooke, of +course?" + +"How are you, Freddie, my boy?" + +"Cheerio!" said Freddie. "Pretty fit?" + +"And Miss Bryant," said Jill. + +"How do you do?" said Uncle Chris in the bluff, genial way which, in +his younger days, had charmed many a five-pound note out of the +pockets of his fellow-men and many a soft glance out of the eyes of +their sisters, their cousins, and their aunts. + +"Come and have some tea," said Jill. "You're just in time." + +"Tea? Capital!" + +Nelly had subsided shyly into the depths of her big arm-chair. Somehow +she felt a better and a more important girl since Uncle Chris had +addressed her. Most people felt like that after encountering Jill's +Uncle Christopher. Uncle Chris had a manner. It was not precisely +condescending, and yet it was not the manner of an equal. He treated +you as an equal, true, but all the time you were conscious of the fact +that it was extraordinarily good of him to do so. Uncle Chris affected +the rank and file of his fellow-men much as a genial knight of the +Middle Ages would have affected a scurvy knave or varlet if he had +cast aside social distinctions for a while and hobnobbed with the +latter in a tavern. He never patronized, but the mere fact that he +abstained from patronizing seemed somehow impressive. + +To this impressiveness his appearance contributed largely. He was a +fine, upstanding man, who looked less than his forty-nine years in +spite of an ominous thinning of the hair which he tended and brushed +so carefully. He had a firm chin, a mouth that smiled often and +pleasantly beneath the closely-clipped moustache, and very bright blue +eyes which met yours in a clear, frank, honest gaze. Though he had +served in his youth in India, he had none of the Anglo-Indian's +sun-scorched sallowness. His complexion was fresh and sanguine. He +looked as if he had just stepped out of a cold tub--a misleading +impression, for Uncle Chris detested cold water and always took his +morning bath as hot as he could get it. + +It was his clothes, however, which, even more than his appearance, +fascinated the populace. There is only one tailor in London, as +distinguished from the ambitious mechanics who make coats and +trousers, and Uncle Chris was his best customer. Similarly, London is +full of young fellows trying to get along by the manufacture of +foot-wear, but there is only one boot-maker in the true meaning of the +word--the one who supplied Uncle Chris. And, as for hats, while it is +no doubt a fact that you can get at plenty of London shops some sort +of covering for your head which will keep it warm, the only +hatter--using the term in its deeper sense--is the man who enjoyed the +patronage of Major Christopher Selby. From foot to head, in short, +from furthest South to extremest North, Uncle Chris was perfect. He +was an ornament to his surroundings. The Metropolis looked better for +him. One seems to picture London as a mother with a horde of untidy +children, children with made-up ties, children with wrinkled coats and +baggy trouser-legs, sighing to herself as she beheld them, then +cheering up and murmuring with a touch of restored complacency, "Ah, +well, I still have Uncle Chris!" + +"Miss Bryant is American, Uncle Chris," said Jill. + +Uncle Chris spread his shapely legs before the fire, and glanced down +kindly at Nelly. + +"Indeed?" He took a cup of tea and stirred it. "I was in America as a +young man." + +"Whereabouts?" asked Nelly eagerly. + +"Oh, here and there and everywhere. I travelled considerably." + +"That's how it is with me," said Nelly, overcoming her diffidence as +she warmed to the favourite topic. "I guess I know most every town in +every State, from New York to the last one-night stand. It's a great +old country, isn't it?" + +"It is!" said Uncle Chris. "I shall be returning there very shortly." +He paused meditatively. "Very shortly indeed." + +Nelly bit her lip. It seemed to be her fate to-day to meet people who +were going to America. + +"When did you decide to do that?" asked Jill. + +She had been looking at him, puzzled. Years of association with Uncle +Chris had enabled her to read his moods quickly, and she was sure that +there was something on his mind. It was not likely that the others had +noticed it, for his manner was as genial and urbane as ever. But +something about him, a look in his eyes that came and went, an +occasional quick twitching of his mouth, told her that all was not +well. She was a little troubled, but not greatly. Uncle Chris was not +the sort of man to whom grave tragedies happened. It was probably some +mere trifle which she could smooth out for him in five minutes, once +they were alone together. She reached out and patted his sleeve +affectionately. She was fonder of Uncle Chris than of anyone in the +world except Derek. + +"The thought," said Uncle Chris, "came to me this morning, as I read +my morning paper while breakfasting. It has grown and developed during +the day. At this moment you might almost call it an obsession. I am +very fond of America. I spent several happy years there. On that +occasion I set sail for the land of promise, I admit, somewhat +reluctantly. Of my own free will I might never have made the +expedition. But the general sentiment seemed so strongly in favour of +my doing so that I yielded to what I might call a public demand. The +willing hands for my nearest and dearest were behind me, pushing, and +I did not resist them. I have never regretted it. America is a part of +every young man's education. You ought to go there, Freddie." + +"Rummily enough," said Freddie, "I was saying just before you came in +that I had half a mind to pop over. Only it's rather a bally fag, +starting. Getting your luggage packed and all that sort of thing." + +Nelly, whose luggage consisted of one small trunk, heaved a silent +sigh. Mingling with the idle rich carried its penalties. + +"America," said Uncle Chris, "taught me poker, for which I can never +be sufficiently grateful. Also an exotic pastime styled Craps--or, +alternatively, 'rolling the bones'--which in those days was a very +present help in time of trouble. At Craps, I fear, my hand in late +years has lost much of its cunning. I have had little opportunity of +practising. But as a young man I was no mean exponent of the art. Let +me see," said Uncle Chris meditatively. "What was the precise ritual? +Ah! I have it, 'Come, little seven!'" + +"'Come, eleven!'" exclaimed Nelly excitedly. + +"'Baby....' I feel convinced that in some manner the word baby entered +into it." + +"'Baby needs new shoes!'" + +"'Baby needs new shoes!' Precisely!" + +"It sounds to me," said Freddie, "dashed silly." + +"Oh, no!" cried Nelly reproachfully. + +"Well, what I mean is, there's no sense in it, don't you know." + +"It is a noble pursuit," said Uncle Chris firmly. "Worthy of the great +nation that has produced it. No doubt, when I return to America, I +shall have opportunities of recovering my lost skill." + +"You aren't returning to America," said Jill. "You're going to stay +safe at home like a good little uncle. I'm not going to have you +running wild all over the world at your age." + +"Age?" declaimed Uncle Chris. "What is my age? At the present moment I +feel in the neighbourhood of twenty-one, and Ambition is tapping me on +the shoulder and whispering 'Young man, go West!' The years are +slipping away from me, my dear Jill--slipping so quickly that in a few +minutes you will be wondering why my nurse does not come to fetch me. +The wanderlust is upon me. I gaze around me at all this prosperity in +which I am lapped," said Uncle Chris, eyeing the arm-chair severely, +"all this comfort and luxury which swaddles me, and I feel staggered. +I want activity. I want to be braced!" + +"You would hate it," said Jill composedly. "You know you're the +laziest old darling in the world." + +"Exactly what I am endeavouring to point out. I _am_ lazy. Or, I was +till this morning." + +"Something very extraordinary must have happened this morning. I can +see that." + +"I wallowed in gross comfort. I was what Shakespeare calls a 'fat and +greasy citizen'!" + +"Please, Uncle Chris!" protested Jill. "Not while I'm eating buttered +toast!" + +"But now I am myself again." + +"That's splendid." + +"I have heard the beat of the off-shore wind," chanted Uncle Chris, +"and the thresh of the deep-sea rain. I have heard the song--How long! +how long! Pull out on the trail again!" + +"He can also recite 'Gunga Din,'" said Jill to Nelly. "I really must +apologize for all this. He's usually as good as gold." + +"I believe I know how he feels," said Nelly softly. + +"Of course you do. You and I, Miss Bryant, are of the gipsies of the +world. We are not vegetables like young Rooke here." + +"Eh, what?" said the vegetable, waking from a reverie. He had been +watching Nelly's face. Its wistfulness attracted him. + +"We are only happy," proceeded Uncle Chris, "when we are wandering." + +"You should see Uncle Chris wander to his club in the morning," said +Jill. "He trudges off in a taxi, singing wild gipsy songs, absolutely +defying fatigue." + +"That," said Uncle Chris, "is a perfectly justified slur. I shudder at +the depths to which prosperity has caused me to sink." He expanded his +chest. "I shall be a different man in America. America would make a +different man of _you_, Freddie." + +"I'm all right, thanks!" said that easily satisfied young man. + +Uncle Chris turned to Nelly, pointing dramatically. + +"Young woman, go West! Return to your bracing home, and leave this +enervating London! You...." + +Nelly got up abruptly. She could endure no more. + +"I believe I'll have to be going now," she said. "Bill misses me if +I'm away long. Good-bye. Thank you ever so much for what you did." + +"It was awfully kind of you to come round," said Jill. + +"Good-bye, Major Selby." + +"Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Rooke." + +Freddie awoke from another reverie. + +"Eh? Oh, I say, half a jiffy. I think I may as well be toddling along +myself. About time I was getting back to dress for dinner and all +that. See you home, may I, and then I'll get a taxi at Victoria. +Toodle-oo, everybody." + + * * * * * + +Freddie escorted Nelly through the hall and opened the front door for +her. The night was cool and cloudy and there was still in the air that +odd, rejuvenating suggestion of Spring. A wet fragrance came from the +dripping trees. + +"Topping evening!" said Freddie conversationally. + +"Yes." + +They walked through the square in silence. Freddie shot an +appreciative glance at his companion. Freddie, as he would have +admitted frankly, was not much of a lad for the modern girl. The +modern girl, he considered, was too dashed rowdy and exuberant for a +chappie of peaceful tastes. Now, this girl, on the other hand, had all +the earmarks of being something of a topper. She had a soft voice. +Rummy accent and all that, but nevertheless a soft and pleasing voice. +She was mild and unaggressive, and these were qualities which Freddie +esteemed. Freddie, though this was a thing he would not have admitted, +was afraid of girls, the sort of girls he had to take down to dinner +and dance with and so forth. They were too dashed clever, and always +seemed to be waiting for a chance to score off a fellow. This one was +not like that. Not a bit. She was gentle and quiet and what not. + +It was at this point that it came home to him how remarkably quiet she +was. She had not said a word for the last five minutes. He was just +about to break the silence, when, as they passed under a street lamp, +he perceived that she was crying--crying very softly to herself, like +a child in the dark. + +"Good God!" said Freddie appalled. There were two things in life with +which he felt totally unable to cope--crying girls and dog-fights. The +glimpse he had caught of Nelly's face froze him into a speechlessness +which lasted until they reached Daubeny Street and stopped at her +door. + +"Good-bye," said Nelly. + +"Good-bye-ee!" said Freddie mechanically. "That's to say, I mean to +say, half a second!" he added quickly. He faced her nervously, with +one hand on the grimy railings. This wanted looking into. When it came +to girls trickling to and fro in the public streets, weeping, well, it +was pretty rotten and something had to be done about it. "What's up?" +he demanded. + +"It's nothing. Good-bye." + +"But, my dear old soul," said Freddie, clutching the railing for moral +support, "it is something. It must be! You might not think it, to look +at me, but I'm really rather a dashed shrewd chap, and I can _see_ +there's something up. Why not give me the jolly old scenario and see +if we can't do something?" + +Nelly moved as if to turn to the door, then stopped. She was +thoroughly ashamed of herself. + +"I'm a fool!" + +"No, no!" + +"Yes, I am. I don't often act this way, but, oh, gee! hearing you all +talking like that about going to America, just as if it was the +easiest thing in the world, only you couldn't be bothered to do it, +kind of got me going. And to think I could be there right now if I +wasn't a bonehead!" + +"A bonehead?" + +"A simp. I'm all right as far up as the string of near-pearls, but +above that I'm reinforced concrete." + +Freddie groped for her meaning. + +"Do you mean you've made a bloomer of some kind?" + +"I pulled the worst kind of bone. I stopped on in London when the rest +of the company went back home, and now I've got to stick." + +"Rush of jolly old professional engagements, what?" + +Nelly laughed bitterly. + +"You're a bad guesser. No, they haven't started to fight over me yet. +I'm at liberty, as they say in the _Era_." + +"But, my dear old thing," said Freddie earnestly, "if you've nothing +to keep you in England, why not pop back to America? I mean to say, +home-sickness is the most dashed blighted thing in the world. There's +nothing gives one the pip to such an extent. Why, dash it, I remember +staying with an old aunt of mine up in Scotland the year before last +and not being able to get away for three weeks or so, and I +raved--absolutely gibbered--for the sight of the merry old metrop. +Sometimes I'd wake up in the night, thinking I was back at the Albany, +and, by Jove, when I found I wasn't I howled like a dog! You take my +tip, old soul, and pop back on the next boat." + +"Which line?" + +"How do you mean, which line? Oh, I see, you mean which line? Well ... +well ... I've never been on any of them, so it's rather hard to say. +But I hear the Cunard well spoken of, and then again some chappies +swear by the White Star. But I should imagine you can't go far wrong, +whichever you pick. They're all pretty ripe, I fancy." + +"Which of them is giving free trips? That's the point." + +"Eh? Oh!" Her meaning dawned upon Freddie. He regarded her with deep +consternation. Life had treated him so kindly that he had almost +forgotten that there existed a class which had not as much money as +himself. Sympathy welled up beneath his perfectly fitting waistcoat. +It was a purely disinterested sympathy. The fact that Nelly was a girl +and in many respects a dashed pretty girl did not affect him. What +mattered was that she was hard up. The thought hurt Freddie like a +blow. He hated the idea of anyone being hard up. + +"I say!" he said. "Are you broke?" + +Nelly laughed. + +"Am I? If dollars were doughnuts, I wouldn't even have the hole in the +middle." + +Freddie was stirred to his depths. Except for the beggars in the +streets, to whom he gave shillings, he had not met anyone for years +who had not plenty of money. He had friends at his clubs who +frequently claimed to be unable to lay their hands on a bally penny, +but the bally penny they wanted to lay their hands on generally turned +out to be a couple of thousand pounds for a new car. + +"Good God!" he said. + +There was a pause. Then, with a sudden impulse, he began to fumble in +his breast-pocket. Rummy how things worked out for the best, however +scaly they might seem at the moment. Only an hour or so ago he had +been kicking himself for not having remembered that fifty-pound note, +tacked on to the lining of his coat, when it would have come in handy +at the police-station. He now saw that Providence had had the matter +well in hand. If he had remembered it and coughed it up to the +constabulary then, he wouldn't have had it now. And he needed it now. +A mood of quixotic generosity had surged upon him. With swift fingers +he jerked the note free from its moorings and displayed it like a +conjurer exhibiting a rabbit. + +"My dear old thing," he said, "I can't stand it! I absolutely cannot +stick it at any price! I really must insist on your trousering this. +Positively!" + +Nelly Bryant gazed at the note with wide eyes. She was stunned. She +took it limply, and looked at it under the dim light of the gas-lamp +over the door. + +"I couldn't!" she cried. + +"Oh, but really! You must!" + +"But this is a fifty-pound!" + +"Absolutely! It will take you back to New York, what? you asked which +line was giving free trips. The Freddie Rooke Line, by Jove, sailings +every Wednesday and Saturday! I mean, what?" + +"But I can't take two hundred and fifty dollars from you!" + +"Oh, rather. Of course you can." + +There was another pause. + +"You'll think--" Nelly's pale face flushed. "You'll think I told you +all about myself just--just because I wanted to...." + +"To make a touch? Absolutely not! Rid yourself of the jolly old +supposition entirely. You see before you, old thing, a chappie who +knows more about borrowing money than any man in London. I mean to +say, I've had my ear bitten more often than anyone, I should think. +There are sixty-four ways of making a touch--I've had them all worked +on me by divers blighters here and there--and I can tell any of them +with my eyes shut. I know you weren't dreaming of any such thing." + +The note crackled musically in Nelly's hand. + +"I don't know what to say!" + +"That's all right." + +"I don't see why.... Gee! I wish I could tell you what I think of +you!" + +Freddie laughed amusedly. + +"Do you know," he said, "that's exactly what the beaks--the masters, +you know--used to say to me at school." + +"Are you sure you can spare it?" + +"Oh, rather." + +Nelly's eyes shone in the light of the lamp. + +"I've never met anyone like you before. I don't know how...." + +Freddie shuffled nervously. Being thanked always made him feel pretty +rotten. + +"Well, I think I'll be popping," he said. "Got to get back and dress +and all that. Awfully glad to have seen you, and all that sort of +rot." + +Nelly unlocked the door with her latch-key, and stood on the step. + +"I'll buy a fur-wrap," she said, half to herself. + +"Great wheeze! I should!" + +"And some nuts for Bill!" + +"Bill?" + +"The parrot." + +"Oh, the jolly old parrot! Rather! Well, cheerio!" + +"Good-bye.... You've been awfully good to me." + +"Oh, no," said Freddie uncomfortably. "Any time you're passing...." + +"Awfully good.... Well, good-bye." + +"Toodle-oo!" + +"Maybe we'll meet again some day." + +"I hope so. Absolutely!" + +There was a little scurry of feet. Something warm and soft pressed for +an instant against Freddie's cheek, and, as he stumbled back, Nelly +Bryant skipped up the steps and vanished through the door. + +"Good God!" + +Freddie felt his cheek. He was aware of an odd mixture of +embarrassment and exhilaration. + +From the area below a slight cough sounded. Freddie turned sharply. A +maid in a soiled cap, worn coquettishly over one ear, was gazing +intently up through the railings. Their eyes met. Freddie turned a +warm pink. It seemed to him that the maid had the air of one about to +giggle. + +"Damn!" said Freddie softly, and hurried off down the street. He +wondered whether he had made a frightful ass of himself, spraying +bank-notes all over the place like that to comparative strangers. Then +a vision came to him of Nelly's eyes as they had looked at him in the +lamp-light, and he decided--no, absolutely not. Rummy as the gadget +might appear, it had been the right thing to do. It was a binge of +which he thoroughly approved. A good egg! + + +II + +Jill, when Freddie and Nelly left the room, had seated herself on a +low stool, and sat looking thoughtfully into the fire. She was +wondering if she had been mistaken in supposing that Uncle Chris was +worried about something. This restlessness of his, this desire for +movement, was strange in him. Hitherto he had been like a dear old +cosy cat, revelling in the comfort which he had just denounced so +eloquently. She watched him as he took up his favourite stand in +front of the fire. + +"Nice girl," said Uncle Chris. "Who was she?" + +"Somebody Freddie met," said Jill diplomatically. There was no need to +worry Uncle Chris with details of the afternoon's happenings. + +"Very nice girl." Uncle Chris took out his cigar-case. "No need to ask +if I may, thank goodness." He lit a cigar. "Do you remember, Jill, +years ago, when you were quite small, how I used to blow smoke in your +face?" + +Jill smiled. + +"Of course I do. You said that you were training me for marriage. You +said that there were no happy marriages except where the wife didn't +mind the smell of tobacco. Well, it's lucky, as a matter of fact, for +Derek smokes all the time." + +Uncle Chris took up his favourite stand against the fireplace. + +"You're very fond of Derek, aren't you, Jill?" + +"Of course I am. You are, too, aren't you?" + +"Fine chap. Very fine chap. Plenty of money, too. It's a great +relief," said Uncle Chris, puffing vigorously. "A thundering relief." +He looked over Jill's head down the room. "It's fine to think of you +happily married, dear, with everything in the world that you want." + +Uncle Chris' gaze wandered down to where Jill sat. A slight mist +affected his eyesight. Jill had provided a solution for the great +problem of his life. Marriage had always appalled him, but there was +this to be said for it, that married people had daughters. He had +always wanted a daughter, a smart girl he could take out and be proud +of; and fate had given him Jill at precisely the right age. A child +would have bored Uncle Chris--he was fond of children, but they made +the deuce of a noise and regarded jam as an external ornament--but a +delightful little girl of fourteen was different. Jill and he had been +very close to each other since her mother had died, a year after the +death of her father, and had left her in his charge. He had watched +her grow up with a joy that had a touch of bewilderment in it--she +seemed to grow so quickly--and had been fonder and prouder of her at +every stage of her tumultuous career. + +"You're a dear," said Jill. She stroked the trouser-leg that was +nearest. "How _do_ you manage to get such a wonderful crease? You +really are a credit to me!" + +There was a momentary silence. A shade of embarrassment made itself +noticeable in Uncle Chris' frank gaze. He gave a little cough, and +pulled at his moustache. + +"I wish I were, my dear," he said soberly. "I wish I were. I'm afraid +I'm a poor sort of a fellow, Jill." + +Jill looked up. + +"What do you mean?" + +"A poor sort of a fellow," repeated Uncle Chris. "Your mother was +foolish to trust you to me. Your father had more sense. He always said +I was a wrong 'un." + +Jill got up quickly. She was certain now that she had been right, and +that there was something on her uncle's mind. + +"What's the matter, Uncle Chris? Something's happened. What is it?" + +Uncle Chris turned to knock the ash off his cigar. The movement gave +him time to collect himself for what lay before him. He had one of +those rare volatile natures which can ignore the blows of fate so long +as their effects are not brought home by visible evidence of disaster. +He lived in the moment, and, though matters had been as bad at +breakfast-time as they were now, it was not till now, when he +confronted Jill, that he had found his cheerfulness affected by them. +He was a man who hated ordeals, and one faced him now. Until this +moment he had been able to detach his mind from a state of affairs +which would have weighed unceasingly upon another man. His mind was a +telephone which he could cut off at will, when the voice of Trouble +wished to speak. The time would arrive, he had been aware, when he +would have to pay attention to that voice, but so far he had refused +to listen. Now it could be evaded no longer. + +"Jill." + +"Yes?" + +Uncle Chris paused again, searching for the best means of saying what +had to be said. + +"Jill, I don't know if you understand about these things, but there +was what is called a slump on the Stock Exchange this morning. In +other words...." + +Jill laughed. + +"Of course I know all about that," she said. "Poor Freddie wouldn't +talk about anything else till I made him. He was terribly blue when he +got here this afternoon. He said he had got 'nipped' in Amalgamated +Dyes. He had lost about two hundred pounds, and was furious with a +friend of his who had told him to buy margins." + +Uncle Chris cleared his throat. + +"Jill, I'm afraid I've got bad news for you. I bought Amalgamated +Dyes, too." He worried his moustache. "I lost heavily, very heavily." + +"How naughty of you! You know you oughtn't to gamble." + +"Jill, you must be brave. I--I--well, the fact is--it's no good +beating about the bush--I lost everything! Everything!" + +"Everything?" + +"Everything! It's all gone! All fooled away. It's a terrible business. +This house will have to go." + +"But--but doesn't the house belong to me?" + +"I was your trustee, dear." Uncle Chris smoked furiously. "Thank +heaven you're going to marry a rich man!" + +Jill stood looking at him, perplexed. Money, as money, had never +entered into her life. There were things one wanted which had to be +paid for with money, but Uncle Chris had always looked after that. She +had taken them for granted. + +"I don't understand," she said. + +And then suddenly she realized that she did, and a great wave of pity +for Uncle Chris flooded over her. He was such an old dear. It must be +horrible for him to have to stand there, telling her all this. She +felt no sense of injury, only the discomfort of having to witness the +humiliation of her oldest friend. Uncle Chris was bound up +inextricably with everything in her life that was pleasant. She could +remember him, looking exactly the same, only with a thicker and wavier +crop of hair, playing with her patiently and unwearied for hours in +the hot sun, a cheerful martyr. She could remember sitting up with him +when she came home from her first grownup dance, drinking cocoa and +talking and talking and talking till the birds outside sang the sun +high up into the sky and it was breakfast time. She could remember +theatres with him, and jolly little suppers afterwards; expeditions +into the country, with lunches at queer old inns; days on the river, +days at Hurlingham, days at Lords', days at the Academy. He had always +been the same, always cheerful, always kind. He was Uncle Chris, and +he would always be Uncle Chris, whatever he had done or whatever he +might do. She slipped her arm in his and gave it a squeeze. + +"Poor old thing!" she said. + +Uncle Chris had been looking straight out before him with those fine +blue eyes of his. There had been just a touch of sternness in his +attitude. A stranger, coming into the room at that moment, would have +said that here was a girl trying to coax her blunt, straightforward, +military father into some course of action of which his honest nature +disapproved. He might have been posing for a statue of Rectitude. As +Jill spoke, he seemed to cave in. + +"Poor old thing?" he repeated limply. + +"Of course you are! And stop trying to look dignified and tragic! +Because it doesn't suit you. You're much too well dressed." + +"But, my dear, you don't understand! You haven't realized!" + +"Yes, I do. Yes, I have!" + +"I've spent all your money--_your_ money!" + +"I know! What does it matter?" + +"What does it matter! Jill, don't you hate me?" + +"As if anyone could hate an old darling like you!" + +Uncle Chris threw away his cigar, and put his arms round Jill. For a +moment a dreadful fear came to her that he was going to cry. She +prayed that he wouldn't cry. It would be too awful. It would be a +memory of which she could never rid herself. She felt as though he +were someone extraordinarily young and unable to look after himself, +someone she must soothe and protect. + +"Jill," said Uncle Chris, choking, "you're--you're--you're a little +warrior!" + +Jill kissed him and moved away. She busied herself with some flowers, +her back turned. The tension had been relieved, and she wanted to give +him time to recover his poise. She knew him well enough to be sure +that, sooner or later, the resiliency of his nature would assert +itself. He could never remain long in the depths. + +The silence had the effect of making her think more clearly than in +the first rush of pity she had been able to do. She was able now to +review the matter as it affected herself. It had not been easy to +grasp, the blunt fact that she was penniless, that all this comfort +which surrounded her was no longer her own. For an instant a kind of +panic seized her. There was a bleakness about the situation which made +one gasp. It was like icy water dashed in the face. Realization had +almost the physical pain of life returning to a numbed limb. Her hands +shook as she arranged the flowers, and she had to bite her lip to keep +herself from crying out. + +She fought panic eye to eye, and beat it down. Uncle Chris, swiftly +recovering by the fireplace, never knew that the fight had taken +place. He was feeling quite jovial again now that the unpleasant +business of breaking the news was over, and was looking on the world +with the eye of a debonair gentleman-adventurer. As far as he was +concerned, he told himself, this was the best thing that could have +happened. He had been growing old and sluggish in prosperity. He +needed a fillip. The wits by which he had once lived so merrily had +been getting blunt in their easy retirement. He welcomed the +opportunity of matching them once more against the world. He was +remorseful as regarded Jill, but the optimist in him, never crushed +for long, told him that Jill would be all right. She would step from +the sinking ship to the safe refuge of Derek Underhill's wealth and +position, while he went out to seek a new life. Uncle Chris' blue eyes +gleamed with a new fire as he pictured himself in this new life. He +felt like a hunter setting out on a hunting expedition. There were +always adventures and the spoils of war for the man with brains to +find them and gather them in. But it was a mercy that Jill had +Derek.... + +Jill was thinking of Derek, too. Panic had fled, and a curious +exhilaration had seized upon her. If Derek wanted her now, it would be +because his love was the strongest thing in the world. She would come +to him like the beggar-maid to Cophetua. + +Uncle Chris broke the silence with a cough. At the sound of it, Jill +smiled again. She knew it for what it was, a sign that he was himself +again. + +"Tell me, Uncle Chris," she said, "just how bad is it? When you said +everything was gone, did you really mean everything, or were you being +melodramatic? Exactly how do we stand?" + +"It's dashed hard to say, my dear. I expect we shall find there are a +few hundreds left. Enough to see you through till you get married. +After that it won't matter." Uncle Chris flicked a particle of dust +off his coat-sleeve. Jill could not help feeling that the action was +symbolical of his attitude towards life. He nicked away life's +problems with just the same airy carelessness. "You mustn't worry +about me, my dear. I shall be all right. I have made my way in the +world before, and I can do it again. I shall go to America and try my +luck there. Amazing how many opportunities there are in America. +Really, as far as I am concerned, this is the best thing that could +have happened. I have been getting abominably lazy. If I had gone on +living my present life for another year or two, why, dash it, I +honestly believe I should have succumbed to some sort of senile decay. +Positively I should have got fatty degeneration of the brain! This +will be the making of me." + +Jill sat down on the lounge and laughed till there were tears in her +eyes. Uncle Chris might be responsible for this disaster, but he was +certainly making it endurable. However greatly he might be deserving +of censure, from the standpoint of the sterner morality, he made +amends. If he brought the whole world crashing in chaos about one's +ears, at least he helped one to smile among the ruins. + +"Did you ever read 'Candide,' Uncle Chris?" + +"'Candide'?" Uncle Chris shook his head. He was not a great reader, +except of the sporting press. + +"It's a book by Voltaire. There's a character in it called Doctor +Pangloss, who thought that everything was for the best in this best of +all possible worlds." + +Uncle Chris felt a touch of embarrassment. It occurred to him that he +had been betrayed by his mercurial temperament into an attitude which, +considering the circumstances, was perhaps a trifle too jubilant. He +gave his moustache a pull, and reverted to the minor key. + +"Oh, you mustn't think that I don't appreciate the terrible, the criminal +thing I have done! I blame myself," said Uncle Chris cordially, nicking +another speck of dust off his sleeve. "I blame myself bitterly. Your +mother ought never to have made me your trustee, my dear. But she always +believed in me, in spite of everything, and this is how I have repaid +her." He blew his nose to cover a not unmanly emotion. "I wasn't fitted +for the position. Never become a trustee, Jill. It's the devil, is trust +money. However much you argue with yourself, you can't--dash it, you +simply can't believe that it's not your own, to do as you like with, +There it sits, smiling at you, crying 'Spend me! Spend me!' and you find +yourself dipping--dipping--till one day there's nothing left to dip +for--only a far-off rustling--the ghosts of dead bank-notes. That's how it +was with me. The process was almost automatic. I hardly knew it was going +on. Here a little--there a little. It was like snow melting on a +mountain-top. And one morning--all gone!" Uncle Chris drove the point home +with a gesture. "I did what I could. When I found that there were only a +few hundreds left, for your sake I took a chance. All heart and no head! +There you have Christopher Selby in a nutshell! A man at the club, a fool +named--I've forgotten his damn name--recommended Amalgamated Dyestuffs as +a speculation. Monroe, that was his name, Jimmy Monroe. He talked about +the future of British Dyes now that Germany was out of the race, and ... +well, the long and short of it was that I took his advice and bought on +margin. Bought like the devil. And this morning Amalgamated Dyestuffs went +all to blazes. There you have the whole story!" + +"And now," said Jill, "comes the sequel!" + +"The sequel?" said Uncle Chris breezily. "Happiness, my dear, +happiness! Wedding bells and--and all that sort of thing!" He +straddled the hearth-rug manfully, and swelled his chest out. He would +permit no pessimism on this occasion of rejoicing. "You don't suppose +that the fact of your having lost your money--that is to say--er--of +_my_ having lost your money--will affect a splendid young fellow like +Derek Underhill? I know him better than to think that! I've always +liked him. He's a man you can trust! Besides," he added reflectively, +"there's no need to tell him! Till after the wedding, I mean. It won't +be hard to keep up appearances here for a month or so." + +"Of course we must tell him!" + +"You think it wise?" + +"I don't know about it being wise. It's the only thing to do. I must +see him to-night. Oh, I forgot. He was going away this afternoon for a +day or two." + +"Capital! It will give you time to think it over." + +"I don't want to think it over. There's nothing to think about." + +"Of course, yes, of course. Quite so." + +"I shall write him a letter." + +"Write, eh?" + +"It's easier to put what one wants to say in a letter." + +"Letters," began Uncle Chris, and stopped as the door opened. Jane, +the parlourmaid, entered, carrying a salver. + +"For me?" asked Uncle Chris. + +"For Miss Jill, sir." + +Jill took the note off the salver. + +"It's from Derek." + +"There's a messenger-boy waiting, miss," said Jane. "He wasn't told if +there was an answer." + +"If the note is from Derek," said Uncle Chris, "it's not likely to +want an answer. You said he left town to-day." + +Jill opened the envelope. + +"Is there an answer, miss?" asked Jane, after what she considered a +suitable interval. She spoke tenderly. She was a great admirer of +Derek, and considered it a pretty action on his part to send notes +like this when he was compelled to leave London. + +"Any answer, Jill?" + +Jill seemed to rouse herself. She had turned oddly pale. + +"No, no answer, Jane." + +"Thank you, miss," said Jane, and went off to tell the cook that in +her opinion Jill was lacking in heart. "It might have been a bill +instead of a love-letter," said Jane to the cook with indignation, +"the way she read it. I like people to have a little feeling!" + +Jill sat turning the letter over and over in her fingers. Her face was +very white. There seemed to be a big, heavy, leaden something inside +her. A cold hand clutched her throat. Uncle Chris, who at first had +noticed nothing untoward, now began to find the silence sinister. + +"No bad news, I hope, dear?" + +Jill turned the letter between her fingers. + +"Jill, is it bad news?" + +"Derek has broken off the engagement," said Jill in a dull voice. She +let the note fall to the floor, and sat with her chin in her hands. + +"What!" Uncle Chris leaped from the hearth-rug, as though the fire had +suddenly scorched him. "What did you say?" + +"He's broken it off." + +"The hound!" cried Uncle Chris. "The blackguard! The--the--I never +liked that man! I never trusted him!" He fumed for a moment. +"But--but--it isn't possible. How can he have heard about what's +happened? He couldn't know. It's--it's--it isn't possible!" + +"He doesn't know. It has nothing to do with that." + +"But...." Uncle Chris stooped to where the note lay. "May I...?" + +"Yes, you can read it if you like." + +Uncle Chris produced a pair of reading-glasses, and glared through +them at the sheet of paper as though it were some loathsome insect. + +"The hound! The cad! If I were a younger man," shouted Uncle Chris, +smiting the letter violently, "if I were.... Jill! My dear little +Jill!" + +He plunged down on his knees beside her, as she buried her face in her +hands and began to sob. + +"My little girl! Damn that man! My dear little girl! The cad! The +devil! My own darling little girl! I'll thrash him within an inch of +his life!" + +The clock on the mantelpiece ticked away the minutes. Jill got up. Her +face was wet and quivering, but her mouth had set in a brave line. + +"Jill, dear!" + +She let his hand close over hers. + +"Everything's happening all at once this afternoon, Uncle Chris, isn't +it!" She smiled a twisted smile. "You look so funny! Your hair's all +rumpled, and your glasses are over on one side!" + +Uncle Chris breathed heavily through his nose. + +"When I meet that man...." he began portentously. + +"Oh, what's the good of bothering! It's not worth it! Nothing's worth +it!" Jill stopped and faced him, her hands clenched. "Let's get away! +Let's get right away! I want to get right away, Uncle Chris! Take me +away! Anywhere! Take me to America with you! I must get away!" + +Uncle Chris raised his right hand, and shook it. His reading-glasses, +hanging from his left ear, bobbed drunkenly. + +"We'll sail by the next boat! The very next boat, dammit! I'll take +care of you, dear. I've been a blackguard to you, my little girl. I've +robbed you, and swindled you. But I'll make up for it, by George! I'll +make up for it! I'll give you a new home, as good as this, if I die +for it. There's nothing I won't do! Nothing! By Jove!" shouted Uncle +Chris, raising his voice in a red-hot frenzy of emotion, "I'll work! +Yes, by Gad, if it comes right down to it, I'll work!" + +He brought his fist down with a crash on the table where Derek's +flowers stood in their bowl. The bowl leaped in the air and tumbled +over, scattering the flowers on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +JILL CATCHES THE 10.10 + +I + + +In the lives of each one of us, as we look back and review them in +retrospect, there are certain desert wastes from which memory winces +like some tired traveller faced with a dreary stretch of road. Even +from the security of later happiness we cannot contemplate them +without a shudder. + +It took one of the most competent firms in the metropolis four days to +produce some sort of order in the confusion resulting from Major +Selby's financial operations; and during those days Jill existed in a +state of being which could be defined as living only in that she +breathed and ate and comported herself outwardly like a girl and not a +ghost. + +Boards announcing that the house was for sale appeared against the +railings through which Jane the parlourmaid conducted her daily +conversations with the tradesmen. Strangers roamed the rooms eyeing +and appraising the furniture. Uncle Chris, on whom disaster had had a +quickening and vivifying effect, was everywhere at once, an impressive +figure of energy. One may be wronging Uncle Chris, but to the eye of +the casual observer he seemed in these days of trial to be having the +time of his life. + +Jill varied the monotony of sitting in her room--which was the only +place in the house where one might be sure of not encountering a +furniture-broker's man with a note-book and pencil--by taking long +walks. She avoided as far as possible the small area which had once +made up the whole of London for her, but even so she was not always +successful in escaping from old acquaintances. Once, butting through +Lennox Gardens on her way to that vast, desolate King's Road which +stretches its length out into regions unknown to those whose London +is the West End, she happened upon Freddie Rooke, who had been paying +a call in his best, and a pair of white spats which would have cut his +friend Henry to the quick. It was not an enjoyable meeting. Freddie, +keenly alive to the awkwardness of the situation, was scarlet and +incoherent; and Jill, who desired nothing less than to talk with one +so intimately connected in her mind with all that she had lost, was +scarcely more collected. They parted without regret. The only +satisfaction that came to Jill from the encounter was the knowledge +that Derek was still out of town. He had wired for his things, said +Freddie, and had retreated further north. Freddie, it seemed, had been +informed of the broken engagement by Lady Underhill in an interview +which appeared to have left a lasting impression on his mind. Of +Jill's monetary difficulties he had heard nothing. + +After this meeting, Jill felt a slight diminution of the oppression +which weighed upon her. She could not have borne to have come +unexpectedly upon Derek, and, now that there was no danger of that, +she found life a little easier. The days passed somehow, and finally +there came the morning, when, accompanied by Uncle Chris--voluble and +explanatory about the details of what he called "getting everything +settled"--she rode in a taxi to take the train for Southampton. Her +last impression of London was of rows upon rows of mean houses, of +cats wandering in back-yards among groves of home-washed +underclothing, and a smoky greyness which gave way, as the train raced +on, to the clearer grey of the suburbs and the good green and brown of +the open country. + +Then the bustle and confusion of the liner; the calm monotony of the +journey, when one came on deck each morning to find the vessel so +manifestly in the same spot where it had been the morning before that +it was impossible to realize that many hundred miles of ocean had +really been placed behind one; and finally the Ambrose Channel +lightship and the great bulk of New York rising into the sky like a +city of fairyland, heartening yet sinister, at once a welcome and a +menace. + +"There you are, my dear?" said Uncle Chris indulgently, as though it +were a toy he had made for her with his own hands. "New York!" + +They were standing on the boat-deck, leaning over the rail. Jill +caught her breath. For the first time since disaster had come upon her +she was conscious of a rising of her spirits. It is impossible to +behold the huge buildings which fringe the harbour of New York without +a sense of expectancy and excitement. There had remained in Jill's +mind from childhood memories a vague picture of what she now saw, but +it had been feeble and inadequate. The sight of this towering city +seemed somehow to blot out everything that had gone before. The +feeling of starting afresh was strong upon her. + +Uncle Chris, the old traveller, was not emotionally affected. He +smoked placidly and talked in a wholly earthy strain of grape-fruit +and buckwheat cakes. + +It was now, also for the first time, that Uncle Chris touched upon +future prospects in a practical manner. On the voyage he had been +eloquent but sketchy. With the land of promise within biscuit-throw +and the tugs bustling about the great liner's skirts like little dogs +about their mistress, he descended to details. + +"I shall get a room somewhere," said Uncle Chris, "and start looking +about me. I wonder if the old Holland House is still there. I fancy I +heard they'd pulled it down. Capital place. I had a steak there in the +year.... But I expect they've pulled it down. But I shall find +somewhere to go. I'll write and tell you my address directly I've got +one." + +Jill removed her gaze from the sky-line with a start. + +"Write to me?" + +"Didn't I tell you about that?" said Uncle Chris cheerily--avoiding +her eye, however, for he had realized all along that it might be a +little bit awkward breaking the news. "I've arranged that you shall go +and stay for the time being down at Brookport--on Long Island, you +know--over in that direction--with your Uncle Elmer. Daresay you've +forgotten you have an Uncle Elmer, eh?" he went on quickly, as Jill +was about to speak. "Your father's brother. Used to be in business, +but retired some years ago and goes in for amateur farming. Corn +and--and corn," said Uncle Chris. "All that sort of thing. You'll like +him. Capital chap! Never met him myself, but always heard," said Uncle +Chris, who had never to his recollection heard any comments upon Mr. +Elmer Mariner whatever, "that he was a splendid fellow. Directly we +decided to sail, I cabled to him, and got an answer saying that he +would be delighted to put you up. You'll be quite happy there." + +Jill listened to this programme with dismay. New York was calling to +her, and Brookport held out no attractions at all. She looked down +over the side at the tugs puffing their way through the broken blocks +of ice that reminded her of a cocoanut candy familiar to her +childhood. + +"But I want to be with you," she protested. + +"Impossible, my dear, for the present. I shall be very busy, very busy +indeed for some weeks, until I have found my feet. Really, you would +be in the way. He--er--travels the fastest who travels alone! I must +be in a position to go anywhere and do anything at a moment's notice. +But always remember, my dear," said Uncle Chris, patting her shoulder +affectionately, "that I shall be working for you. I have treated you +very badly, but I intend to make up for it. I shall not forget that +whatever money I may make will really belong to you." He looked at her +benignly, like a monarch of finance who has earmarked a million or two +for the benefit of a deserving charity. "You shall have it all, Jill." + +He had so much the air of having conferred a substantial benefit upon +her that Jill felt obliged to thank him. Uncle Chris had always been +able to make people grateful for the phantom gold which he showered +upon them. He was as lavish a man with the money he was going to get +next week as ever borrowed a five-pound note to see him through till +Saturday. + +"What are you going to do, Uncle Chris?" asked Jill curiously. Apart +from a nebulous idea that he intended to saunter through the city +picking dollar-bills off the sidewalk, she had no inkling of his +plans. + +Uncle Chris toyed with his short moustache. He was not quite equal to +a direct answer on the spur of the moment. He had a faith in his star. +Something would turn up. Something always had turned up in the old +days, and doubtless, with the march of civilization, opportunities had +multiplied. Somewhere behind those tall buildings the Goddess of Luck +awaited him, her hands full of gifts, but precisely what those gifts +would be he was not in a position to say. + +"I shall--ah--how shall I put it--?" + +"Look round?" suggested Jill. + +"Precisely," said Uncle Chris gratefully. "Look round. I daresay you +have noticed that I have gone out of my way during the voyage to make +myself agreeable to our fellow-travellers? I had an object. +Acquaintances begun on shipboard will often ripen into useful +friendships ashore. When I was a young man I never neglected the +opportunities which an ocean voyage affords. The offer of a book here, +a steamer-rug there, a word of encouragement to a chatty bore in the +smoke-room--these are small things, but they may lead to much. One +meets influential people on a liner. You wouldn't think it to look at +him, but that man with the eye-glasses and the thin nose I was talking +to just now is one of the richest men in Milwaukee!" + +"But it's not much good having rich friends in Milwaukee when you are +in New York!" + +"Exactly. There you have put your finger on the very point I have been +trying to make. It will probably be necessary for me to travel. And +for that I must be alone. I must be a mobile force. I should dearly +like to keep you with me, but you can see for yourself that for the +moment you would be an encumbrance. Later on, no doubt, when my +affairs are more settled...." + +"Oh, I understand. I'm resigned. But, oh dear! it's going to be very +dull down at Brookport." + +"Nonsense, nonsense! It's a delightful spot." + +"Have you been there?" + +"No. But of course everybody knows Brookport. Healthy, +invigorating.... Sure to be. The very name.... You'll be as happy as +the days are long!" + +"And how long will the days be!" + +"Come, come. You mustn't look on the dark side." + +"Is there another?" Jill laughed. "You are an old humbug, Uncle Chris. +You know perfectly well what you're condemning me to. I expect +Brookport will be like a sort of Southend in winter. Oh, well, I'll be +brave. But do hurry and make a fortune, because I want to come to New +York." + +"My dear," said Uncle Chris solemnly, "if there is a dollar lying +loose in this city, rest assured that I shall have it! And, if it's +not loose, I will detach it with the greatest possible speed. You have +only known me in my decadence, an idle and unprofitable London +clubman. I can assure you that lurking beneath the surface, there is +a business acumen given to few men...." + +"Oh, if you are going to talk poetry," said Jill, "I'll leave you. +Anyhow, I ought to be getting below and putting my things together." + + +II + +If Jill's vision of Brookport as a wintry Southend was not entirely +fulfilled, neither was Uncle Chris' picture of it as an earthly +paradise. At the right time of the year, like most of the summer +resorts on the south shore of Long Island, it is not without its +attractions; but January is not the month which most people would +choose for living in it. It presented itself to Jill on first +acquaintance in the aspect of a wind-swept railroad station, dumped +down far away from human habitation in the middle of a stretch of flat +and ragged country that reminded her a little of parts of Surrey. The +station was just a shed on a foundation of planks which lay flush with +the rails. From this shed, as the train clanked in, there emerged a +tall, shambling man in a weather-beaten overcoat. He had a +clean-shaven, wrinkled face, and he looked doubtfully at Jill with +small eyes. Something in his expression reminded Jill of her father, +as a bad caricature of a public man will recall the original. She +introduced herself. + +"If you're Uncle Elmer," she said, "I'm Jill." + +The man held out a long hand. He did not smile. He was as bleak as the +east wind that swept the platform. + +"Glad to meet you again," he said in a melancholy voice. It was news +to Jill that they had met before. She wondered where. Her uncle +supplied the information. "Last time I saw you, you were a kiddy in +short frocks, running round and shouting to beat the band." He looked +up and down the platform. "_I_ never heard a child make so much +noise!" + +"I'm quite quiet now," said Jill encouragingly. The recollection of +her infant revelry seemed to her to be distressing her relative. + +It appeared, however, that it was not only this that was on his mind. + +"If you want to drive home," he said, "we'll have to 'phone to the +Durham House for a hack." He brooded a while, Jill remaining silent at +his side, loath to break in upon whatever secret sorrow he was +wrestling with. "That would be a dollar," he went on. "They're +robbers in these parts! A dollar! And it's not over a mile and a half. +Are you fond of walking?" + +Jill was a bright girl, and could take a hint. + +"I love walking," she said. She might have added that she preferred to +do it on a day when the wind was not blowing quite so keenly from the +East, but her uncle's obvious excitement at the prospect of cheating +the rapacity of the sharks at the Durham House restrained her. Her +independent soul had not quite adjusted itself to the prospect of +living on the bounty of her fellows, relatives though they were, and +she was desirous of imposing as light a burden upon them as possible. +"But how about my trunk?" + +"The expressman will bring that up. Fifty cents!" said Uncle Elmer in +a crushed way. The high cost of entertaining seemed to be afflicting +this man deeply. + +"Oh, yes," said Jill. She could not see how this particular +expenditure was to be avoided. Anxious as she was to make herself +pleasant, she declined to consider carrying the trunk to their +destination. "Shall we start, then?" + +Mr. Mariner led the way out into the ice-covered road. The wind +welcomed them like a boisterous dog. For some minutes they proceeded +in silence. + +"Your aunt will be glad to see you," said Mr. Mariner at last in the +voice with which one announces the death of a dear friend. + +"It's awfully kind of you to have me to stay with you," said Jill. It +is a human tendency to think, when crises occur, in terms of +melodrama, and unconsciously she had begun to regard herself somewhat +in the light of a heroine driven out into the world from the old home, +with no roof to shelter her head. The promptitude with which these +good people, who, though relatives, were after all complete strangers, +had offered her a resting-place touched her. "I hope I shan't be in +the way." + +"Major Selby was speaking to me on the telephone just now," said Mr. +Mariner, "and he said that you might be thinking of settling down in +Brookport. I've some nice little places round here which you might +like to look at. Rent or buy. It's cheaper to buy. Brookport's a +growing place. It's getting known as a summer resort. There's a +bungalow down on the shore I'd like to show you to-morrow. Stands in +a nice large plot of ground, and if you bought it for twelve thousand +you'd be getting a bargain." + +Jill was too astonished to speak. Plainly Uncle Chris had made no +mention of the change in her fortunes, and this man looked on her as a +girl of wealth. She could only think how typical this was of Uncle +Chris. There was a sort of boyish impishness about him. She could see +him at the telephone, suave and important. He would have hung up the +receiver with a complacent smirk, thoroughly satisfied that he had +done her an excellent turn. + +"I put all my money into real estate when I came to live here," went +on Mr. Mariner. "I believe in the place. It's growing all the time." + +They had come to the outskirts of a straggling village. The lights in +the windows gave a welcome suggestion of warmth, for darkness had +fallen swiftly during their walk and the chill of the wind had become +more biting. There was a smell of salt in the air now, and once or +twice Jill had caught the low booming of waves on some distant beach. +This was the Atlantic pounding the sandy shore of Fire Island. +Brookport itself lay inside, on the lagoon called the Great South Bay. + +They passed through the village, bearing to the right, and found +themselves in a road bordered by large gardens in which stood big, +dark houses. The spectacle of these stimulated Mr. Mariner to +something approaching eloquence. He quoted the price paid for each, +the price asked, the price offered, the price that had been paid five +years ago. The recital carried them on for another mile, in the course +of which the houses became smaller and more scattered, and finally, +when the country had become bare and desolate again, they turned down +a narrow lane and came to a tall, gaunt house standing by itself in a +field. + +"This is Sandringham," said Mr. Mariner. + +"What!" said Jill. "What did you say?" + +"Sandringham. Where we live. I got the name from your father. I +remember him telling me there was a place called that in England." + +"There is." Jill's voice bubbled. "The King lives there." + +"Is that so?" said Mr. Mariner. "Well, I bet he doesn't have the +trouble with help that we have here. I have to pay our girl fifty +dollars a month, and another twenty for the man who looks after the +furnace and chops wood. They're all robbers. And if you kick they quit +on you!" + + +III + +Jill endured Sandringham for ten days; and, looking back on that +period of her life later, she wondered how she did it. The sense of +desolation which had gripped her on the station platform increased +rather than diminished as she grew accustomed to her surroundings. The +east wind died away, and the sun shone fitfully with a suggestion of +warmth, but her uncle's bleakness appeared to be a static quality, +independent of weather conditions. Her aunt, a faded woman, with a +perpetual cold in the head, did nothing to promote cheerfulness. The +rest of the household consisted of a gloomy child, "Tibby," aged +eight; a spaniel, probably a few years older, and an intermittent cat, +who, when he did put in an appearance, was the life and soul of the +party, but whose visits to his home were all too infrequent for Jill. + +The picture which Mr. Mariner had formed in his mind of Jill as a +wealthy young lady with a taste for house property continued as vivid +as ever. It was his practice each morning to conduct her about the +neighbourhood, introducing her to the various houses in which he had +sunk most of the money he had made in business. Mr. Mariner's life +centred around Brookport real estate, and the embarrassed Jill was +compelled to inspect sitting-rooms, bathrooms, kitchens, and master's +bedrooms till the sound of a key turning in a lock gave her a feeling +of nervous exhaustion. Most of her uncle's houses were converted +farm-houses, and, as one unfortunate purchaser had remarked, not so +darned converted at that. The days she spent at Brookport remained in +Jill's memory as a smell of dampness and chill and closeness. + +"You want to buy," said Mr. Mariner every time he shut a front-door +behind them. "Not rent. Buy. Then, if you don't want to live here, you +can always rent in the summer." + +It seemed incredible to Jill that the summer would ever come. Winter +held Brookport in its grip. For the first time in her life she was +tasting real loneliness. She wandered over the snow-patched fields +down to the frozen bay, and found the intense stillness, punctuated +only by the occasional distant gunshot of some optimist trying for +duck, oppressive rather than restful. She looked on the weird beauty +of the ice-bound marshes which glittered red and green and blue in the +sun with unseeing eyes; for her isolation was giving her time to +think, and thought was a torment. + +On the eighth day came a letter from Uncle Chris--a cheerful, even +rollicking letter. Things were going well with Uncle Chris, it seemed. +As was his habit, he did not enter into details, but he wrote in a +spacious way of large things to be, of affairs that were coming out +right, of prosperity in sight. As tangible evidence of success, he +enclosed a present of twenty dollars for Jill to spend in the +Brookport shops. + +The letter arrived by the morning mail, and two hours later Mr. +Mariner took Jill by one of his usual overland routes to see a house +nearer the village than most of those which she had viewed. Mr. +Mariner had exhausted the supply of cottages belonging to himself, and +this one was the property of an acquaintance. There would be an +agent's fee for him in the deal, if it went through, and Mr. Mariner +was not a man who despised money in small quantities. + +There was a touch of hopefulness in his gloom this morning, like the first +intimation of sunshine after a wet day. He had been thinking the thing +over, and had come to the conclusion that Jill's unresponsiveness when +confronted with the houses she had already seen was due to the fact that +she had loftier ideas than he had supposed. Something a little more +magnificent than the twelve thousand dollar places he had shown her was +what she desired. This house stood on a hill looking down on the bay, in +several acres of ground. It had its private landing-stage and bath-house, +its dairy, its sleeping-porches--everything, in fact, that a sensible girl +could want. Mr. Mariner could not bring himself to suppose that he would +fail again to-day. + +"They're asking a hundred and five thousand," he said, "but I know +they'd take a hundred thousand. And, if it was a question of cash +down, they would go even lower. It's a fine house. You could entertain +there. Mrs. Bruggenheim rented it last summer, and wanted to buy, but +she wouldn't go above ninety thousand. If you want it, you'd better +make up your mind quick. A place like this is apt to be snapped up in +a hurry." + +Jill could endure it no longer. + +"But, you see," she said gently, "all I have in the world is twenty +dollars!" + +There was a painful pause. Mr. Mariner shot a swift glance at her in +the hope of discovering that she had spoken humorously, but was +compelled to decide that she had not. + +"Twenty dollars!" he exclaimed. + +"Twenty dollars," said Jill. + +"But your father was a rich man." Mr. Mariner's voice was high and +plaintive. "He made a fortune over here before he went to England." + +"It's all gone. I got nipped," said Jill, who was finding a certain +amount of humour in the situation, "in Amalgamated Dyes." + +"Amalgamated Dyes?" + +"They're something," explained Jill, "that people get nipped in." + +Mr. Mariner digested this. + +"You speculated?" he gasped. + +"Yes." + +"You shouldn't have been allowed to do it," said Mr. Mariner warmly. +"Major Selby, your uncle, ought to have known better than to allow +you." + +"Yes, oughtn't he?" said Jill demurely. + +There was another silence, lasting for about a quarter of a mile. + +"Well, it's a bad business," said Mr. Mariner. + +"Yes," said Jill. "I've felt that myself." + + * * * * * + +The result of this conversation was to effect a change in the +atmosphere of Sandringham. The alteration in the demeanour of people +of parsimonious habit, when they discover that the guest they are +entertaining is a pauper and not, as they had supposed, an heiress, is +subtle but well marked. In most cases, more well marked than subtle. +Nothing was actually said, but there are thoughts that are almost as +audible as words. A certain suspense seemed to creep into the air, as +happens when a situation has been reached which is too poignant to +last. Greek Tragedy affects the reader with the same sense of +overhanging doom. Things, we feel, cannot go on as they are. + +That night, after dinner, Mrs. Mariner asked Jill to read to her. + +"Print tries my eyes so, dear," said Mrs. Mariner. + +It was a small thing, but it had the significance of that little cloud +that arose out of the sea like a man's hand. Jill appreciated the +portent. She was, she perceived, to make herself useful. + +"Of course I will," she said cordially. "What would you like me to +read?" + +She hated reading aloud. It always made her throat sore, and her eye +skipped to the end of each page and took the interest out of it long +before the proper time. But she proceeded bravely, for her conscience +was troubling her. Her sympathy was divided equally between these +unfortunate people who had been saddled with an undesired visitor and +herself who had been placed in a position at which every independent +nerve in her rebelled. Even as a child she had loathed being under +obligations to strangers or those whom she did not love. + +"Thank you, dear," said Mrs. Mariner, when Jill's voice had roughened +to a weary croak. "You read so well." She wrestled ineffectually with +her handkerchief against the cold in the head from which she had +always suffered. "It would be nice if you would do it every night, +don't you think? You have no idea how tired print makes my eyes." + +On the following morning after breakfast, at the hour when she had +hitherto gone house-hunting with Mr. Mariner, the child Tibby, of whom +up till now she had seen little except at meals, presented himself to +her, coated and shod for the open and regarding her with a dull and +phlegmatic gaze. + +"Ma says will you please take me for a nice walk!" + +Jill's heart sank. She loved children, but Tibby was not an +ingratiating child. He was a Mr. Mariner in little. He had the family +gloom. It puzzled Jill sometimes why this branch of the family should +look on life with so jaundiced an eye. She remembered her father as a +cheerful man, alive to the small humours of life. + +"All right, Tibby. Where shall we go?" + +"Ma says we must keep on the roads and I mustn't slide." + +Jill was thoughtful during the walk. Tibby, who was no +conversationist, gave her every opportunity for meditation. She +perceived that in the space of a few hours she had sunk in the social +scale. If there was any difference between her position and that of a +paid nurse and companion it lay in the fact that she was not paid. She +looked about her at the grim countryside, gave a thought to the chill +gloom of the house to which she was about to return, and her heart +sank. + +Nearing home, Tibby vouched his first independent observation. + +"The hired man's quit!" + +"Has he?" + +"Yep. Quit this morning." + +It had begun to snow. They turned and made their way back to the +house. The information she had received did not cause Jill any great +apprehension. It was hardly likely that her new duties would include +the stoking of the furnace. That and cooking appeared to be the only +acts about the house which were outside her present sphere of +usefulness. + +"He killed a rat once in the wood-shed with an axe," said Tibby +chattily. "Yessir! Chopped it right in half, and it bled!" + +"Look at the pretty snow falling on the trees," said Jill faintly. + +At breakfast next morning, Mrs. Mariner having sneezed, made a +suggestion. + +"Tibby, darling, wouldn't it be nice if you and cousin Jill played a +game of pretending you were pioneers in the Far West?" + +"What's a pioneer?" enquired Tibby, pausing in the middle of an act of +violence on a plate of oatmeal. + +"The pioneers were the early settlers in this country, dear. You have +read about them in your history book. They endured a great many +hardships, for life was very rough for them, with no railroads or +anything. I think it would be a nice game to play this morning." + +Tibby looked at Jill. There was doubt in his eye. Jill returned his +gaze sympathetically. One thought was in both their minds. + +"There is a string to this!" said Tibby's eye. + +Mrs. Mariner sneezed again. + +"You would have lots of fun," she said. + +"What'ud we do?" asked Tibby cautiously. He had been had this way +before. Only last summer, on his mother's suggestion that he should +pretend he was a shipwrecked sailor on a desert island, he had +perspired through a whole afternoon cutting the grass in front of the +house to make a shipwrecked sailor's simple bed. + +"I know," said Jill. "We'll pretend we're pioneers stormbound in their +log cabin in the woods, and the wolves are howling outside, and they +daren't go out, so they make a lovely big fire and sit in front of it +and read." + +"And eat candy," suggested Tibby, warming to the idea. + +"And eat candy," agreed Jill. + +Mrs. Mariner frowned. + +"I was going to suggest," she said frostily, "that you shovelled the +snow away from the front steps!" + +"Splendid!" said Jill. "Oh, but I forgot. I want to go to the village +first." + +"There will be plenty of time to do it when you get back." + +"All right. I'll do it when I get back." + +It was a quarter of an hour's walk to the village. Jill stopped at the +post-office. + +"Could you tell me," she asked, "when the next train is to New York?" + +"There's one at ten-ten," said the woman behind the window. "You'll +have to hurry." + +"I'll hurry!" said Jill. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE DRY-SALTERS WING DEREK + +I + + +Doctors, laying down the law in their usual confident way, tell us +that the vitality of the human body is at its lowest at two o'clock in +the morning: and that it is then, as a consequence, that the mind is +least able to contemplate the present with equanimity, the future with +fortitude, and the past without regret. Every thinking man, however, +knows that this is not so. The true zero hour, desolate, gloom-ridden, +and spectre-haunted, occurs immediately before dinner while we are +waiting for that cocktail. It is then that, stripped for a brief +moment of our armour of complacency and self-esteem, we see ourselves +as we are--frightful chumps in a world where nothing goes right; a +grey world in which, hoping to click, we merely get the raspberry; +where, animated by the best intentions, we nevertheless succeed in +perpetrating the scaliest bloomers and landing our loved ones +neck-deep in the gumbo. + +So reflected Freddie Rooke, that priceless old bean, sitting +disconsolately in an arm-chair at the Drones Club about two weeks +after Jill's departure from England, waiting for his friend Algy +Martyn to trickle in and give him dinner. + +Surveying Freddie, as he droops on his spine in the yielding leather, +one is conscious of one's limitations as a writer. Gloom like his +calls for the pen of a master. Zola could have tackled it nicely. +Gorky might have made a stab at it. Dostoevsky would have handled it +with relish. But for oneself the thing is too vast. One cannot wangle +it. It intimidates. It would have been bad enough in any case, for +Algy Martyn was late as usual and it always gave Freddie the pip to +have to wait for dinner: but what made it worse was the fact that the +Drones was not one of Freddie's clubs and so, until the blighter Algy +arrived, it was impossible for him to get his cocktail. There he sat, +surrounded by happy, laughing young men, each grasping a glass of the +good old mixture-as-before, absolutely unable to connect. Some of +them, casual acquaintances, had nodded to him, waved, and gone on +lowering the juice,--a spectacle which made Freddie feel much as the +wounded soldier would have felt if Sir Philip Sidney, instead of +offering him the cup of water, had placed it to his own lips and +drained it with a careless "Cheerio!" No wonder Freddie experienced +the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoi's +Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling +his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city +reservoir, he turns to the cupboard, only to find the vodka-bottle +empty. + +Freddie gave himself up to despondency: and, as always in these days +when he was mournful, he thought of Jill. Jill's sad case was a +continual source of mental anguish to him. From the first he had +blamed himself for the breaking-off of her engagement with Derek. If +he had not sent the message to Derek from the police-station, the +latter would never have known about their arrest, and all would have +been well. And now, a few days ago, had come the news of her financial +disaster, with its attendant complications. + +It had descended on Freddie like a thunderbolt through the medium of +Ronny Devereux. + +"I say," Ronny had said, "have you heard the latest? Your pal, +Underhill, has broken off his engagement with Jill Mariner." + +"I know; rather rotten, what!" + +"Rotten? I should say so! It isn't done. I mean to say, chap can't +chuck a girl just because she's lost her money. Simply isn't on the +board, old man!" + +"Lost her money? What do you mean?" + +Ronny was surprised. Hadn't Freddie heard? Yes, absolute fact. He had +it from the best authority. Didn't know how it had happened and all +that, but Jill Mariner had gone completely bust; Underhill had given +her the miss-in-baulk; and the poor girl had legged it, no one knew +where. Oh, Freddie had met her and she had told him she was going to +America? Well, then, legged it to America. But the point was that the +swine Underhill had handed her the mitten just because she was broke, +and that was what Ronny thought so bally rotten. Broker a girl is, +Ronny meant to say, more a fellow should stick to her. + +"But--" Freddie rushed to his hero's defence. "But it wasn't that at +all. Something quite different. I mean, Derek didn't even know Jill +had lost her money. He broke the engagement because...." Freddie +stopped short. He didn't want everybody to know of that rotten arrest +business, as they infallibly would if he confided in Ronny Devereux. +Sort of thing he would never hear the last of. "He broke it off +because of something quite different." + +"Oh, yes!" said Ronny sceptically. + +"But he did, really!" + +Ronny shook his head. + +"Don't you believe it, old son. Don't you believe it. Stands to reason +it must have been because the poor girl was broke. You wouldn't have +done it and I wouldn't have done it, but Underhill did, and that's all +there is to it. I mean, a tick's a tick, and there's nothing more to +say. Well, I know he's been a pal of yours, Freddie, but, next time I +meet him, by Jove, I'll cut him dead. Only I don't know him to speak +to, dash it!" concluded Ronny regretfully. + +Ronny's news had upset Freddie. Derek had returned to the Albany a +couple of days ago, moody and silent. They had lunched together at the +Bachelors, and Freddie had been pained at the attitude of his +fellow-clubmen. Usually, when he lunched at the Bachelors, his table +became a sort of social centre. Cheery birds would roll up to pass the +time of day, and festive old eggs would toddle over to have coffee and +so forth, and all that sort of thing. Jolly! On this occasion nobody +had rolled, and all the eggs present had taken their coffee elsewhere. +There was an uncomfortable chill in the atmosphere of which Freddie +had been acutely conscious, though Derek had not appeared to notice +it. The thing had only come home to Derek yesterday at the Albany, +when the painful episode of Wally Mason had occurred. It was this +way.... + +"Hullo, Freddie, old top! Sorry to have kept you waiting." + +Freddie looked up from his broken meditations, to find that his host +had arrived. + +"Hullo!" + +"A quick bracer," said Algy Martyn, "and then the jolly old +food-stuffs. It's pretty late, I see. Didn't notice how time was +slipping." + +Over the soup, Freddie was still a prey to gloom. For once the healing +gin-and-vermouth had failed to do its noble work. He sipped sombrely, +so sombrely as to cause comment from his host. + +"Pipped?" enquired Algy solicitously. + +"Pretty pipped," admitted Freddie. + +"Backed a loser?" + +"No." + +"Something wrong with the old tum?" + +"No.... Worried." + +"Worried?" + +"About Derek." + +"Derek? Who's...? Oh, you mean Underhill?" + +"Yes." + +Algy Martyn chased an elusive piece of carrot about his soup plate, +watching it interestedly as it slid coyly from the spoon. + +"Oh?" he said, with sudden coolness. "What about him?" + +Freddie was too absorbed in his subject to notice the change in his +friend's tone. + +"A dashed unpleasant thing," he said, "happened yesterday morning at +my place. I was just thinking about going out to lunch, when the +door-bell rang and Barker said a chappie of the name of Mason would +like to see me. I didn't remember any Mason, but Barker said the +chappie said he knew me when I was a kid. So he loosed him into the +room, and it turned out to be a fellow I used to know years ago down +in Worcestershire. I didn't know him from Adam at first, but gradually +the old bean got to work, and I placed him. Wally Mason his name was. +Rummily enough, he had spoken to me at the Leicester that night when +the fire was, but not being able to place him, I had given him the +miss somewhat. You know how it is. Cove you've never been introduced +to says something to you in a theatre, and you murmur something and +sheer off. What?" + +"Absolutely," agreed Algy Martyn. He thoroughly approved of Freddie's +code of etiquette. Sheer off. Only thing to do. + +"Well, anyhow, now that he had turned up again and told me who he was, +I began to remember. We had been kids together, don't you know. +(What's this? Salmon? Oh, right ho.) So I buzzed about and did the +jovial host, you know; gave him a drink and a toofer, and all that +sort of thing; and talked about the dear old days and what not. And so +forth, if you follow me. Then he brought the conversation round to +Jill. Of course he knew Jill at the same time when he knew me, down in +Worcestershire, you see. We were all pretty pally in those days, if +you see what I mean. Well, this man Mason, it seems, had heard +somewhere about Jill losing her money, and he wanted to know if it was +true. I said absolutely. Hadn't heard any details, but Ronny had told +me, and Ronny had had it from some one who had stable information and +all that sort of thing. 'Dashed shame, isn't it?' I said. 'She's gone +to America, you know.' 'I didn't know,' he said. 'I understood she was +going to be married quite soon.' Well, of course, I told him that that +was off. He didn't say anything for a bit, then he said 'Off?' I said +'Off.' 'Did she break it off?' asked the chappie. 'Well, no,' I said. +'As a matter of fact Derek broke it off.' He said 'Oh!' (What? Oh yes, +a bit of pheasant will be fine.) Where was I? Oh, yes. He said 'Oh!' +Now, before this, I ought to tell you, this chappie Mason had asked +me to come out and have a bit of lunch. I had told him I was lunching +with Derek, and he said 'Right ho,' or words to that effect, 'Bring +him along.' Derek had been out for a stroll, you see, and we were +waiting for him to come in. Well, just at this point or juncture, if +you know what I mean, in he came, and I said' Oh, what ho!' and +introduced Wally Mason. 'Oh, do you know Underhill?' I said, or +something like that. You know the sort of thing. And then...." + +Freddie broke off and drained his glass. The recollection of that +painful moment had made him feverish. Social difficulties always did. + +"Then what?" enquired Algy Martyn. + +"Well, it was pretty rotten. Derek held out his hand, as a chappie +naturally would, being introduced to a strange chappie, and Wally +Mason, giving it an absolute miss, went on talking to me just as if we +were alone, you know. Look here. Here was I, where this knife is. +Derek over here--this fork--with his hand out. Mason here--this bit of +bread. Mason looks at his watch, and says 'I'm sorry, Freddie, but I +find I've an engagement for lunch. So long!' and biffed out, without +apparently knowing that Derek was on the earth. I mean...." Freddie +reached for his glass. "What I mean is, it was dashed embarrassing. I +mean, cutting a fellow dead in my rooms. I don't know when I've felt +so rotten!" + +Algy Martyn delivered judgment with great firmness. + +"Chappie was perfectly right!" + +"No, but I mean...." + +"Absolutely correct-o," insisted Algy sternly. "Underhill can't dash +about all over the place giving the girl he's engaged to the mitten +because she's broke, and expect no notice to be taken of it. If you +want to know what I think, old man, your pal Underhill--I can't +imagine what the deuce you see in him, but, school together and so +forth, makes a difference, I suppose--I say, if you want to know what +I think, Freddie, the blighter Underhill would be well advised either +to leg it after Jill and get her to marry him or else lie low for a +goodish while till people have forgotten the thing. I mean to say, +fellows like Ronny and I and Dick Wimpole and Archie Studd and the +rest of our lot--well, we all knew Jill and thought she was a topper +and had danced with her here and there and seen her about and all +that, and naturally we feel pretty strongly about the whole dashed +business. Underhill isn't in our particular set, but we all know most +of the people he knows, and we talk about this business, and the thing +gets about, and there you are! My sister, who was a great pal of +Jill's, swears that all the girls she knows mean to cut Underhill. I +tell you, Freddie, London's going to get pretty hot for him if he +doesn't do something dashed quick and with great rapidity!" + +"But you haven't got the story right, old thing!" + +"How not?" + +"Well, I mean you think and Ronny thinks and all the rest of you think +that Derek broke off the engagement because of the money. It wasn't +that at all." + +"What was it, then?" + +"Well.... Well, look here, it makes me seem a fearful ass and all +that, but I'd better tell you. Jill and I were going down one of those +streets near Victoria and a blighter was trying to slay a parrot...." + +"Parrot-shooting's pretty good in those parts, they tell me," +interjected Algy satirically. + +"Don't interrupt, old man. This parrot had got out of one of the +houses, and a fellow was jabbing at it with a stick, and Jill--you +know what she's like; impulsive, I mean, and all that--Jill got hold +of the stick and biffed him with some vim, and a policeman rolled up +and the fellow made a fuss and the policeman took Jill and me off to +chokey. Well, like an ass, I sent round to Derek to bail us out, and +that's how he heard of the thing. Apparently he didn't think a lot of +it, and the result was that he broke off the engagement." + +Algy Martyn had listened to this recital with growing amazement. + +"He broke it off because of that?" + +"Yes." + +"What absolute rot!" said Algy Martyn. "I don't believe a word of it!" + +"I say, old man!" + +"I don't believe a word of it," repeated Algy firmly. + +"And nobody else will either. It's dashed good of you, Freddie, to +cook up a yarn like that to try and make things look better for the +blighter, but it won't work. Such a damn silly story, too!" said Algy +with some indignation. + +"But it's true!" + +"What's the use, Freddie, between old pals?" said Algy protestingly. +"You know perfectly well that Underhill's a worm of the most +pronounced order, and that, when he found out that Jill hadn't any +money, he chucked her." + +"But why should Derek care whether Jill was well off or not? He's got +enough money of his own." + +"Nobody," said Algy judicially, "has got enough money of his own. +Underhill thought he was marrying a girl with a sizable chunk of the +ready, and, when the fuse blew out, he decided it wasn't good enough. +For Heaven's sake don't let's talk any more about the blighter. It +gives me a pain to think of him." + + +II + +Freddie returned to the Albany in a state of gloom and uneasiness. +Algy's remarks, coming on top of the Wally Mason episode, had shaken +him. The London in which he and Derek moved and had their being is +nothing but a village, and it was evident that village gossip was +hostile to Derek. People were talking about him. Local opinion had +decided that he had behaved badly. Already one man had cut him. +Freddie blenched at a sudden vision of streetfuls of men, long +Piccadillys of men, all cutting him, one after the other. Something +had got to be done. + +The subject was not an easy one to broach to his somewhat forbidding +friend, as he discovered when the latter arrived about half an hour +later. Derek had been attending the semi-annual banquet of the +Worshipful Dry-Salters Company down in the City, understudying one of +the speakers, a leading member of Parliament, who had been unable to +appear; and he was still in the grip of that feeling of degraded +repletion which City dinners induce. + +Yet, unfavourably disposed as, judging by his silence and the +occasional moody grunts he uttered, he appeared to be to a discussion +of his private affairs, it seemed to Freddie impossible that the night +should be allowed to pass without some word spoken on the subject. He +thought of Ronny and what Ronny had said, of Algy and what Algy had +said, of Wally Mason and how Wally had behaved in this very room; and +he nerved himself to the task. + +"Derek, old top." + +A grunt. + +"I say, Derek, old bean." + +Derek roused himself, and looked gloomily across the room to where he +stood, warming his legs at the blaze. + +"Well?" + +Freddie found a difficulty in selecting words. A ticklish business, +this. One that might well have disconcerted a diplomat. Freddie was no +diplomat, and the fact enabled him to find a way in the present +crisis. Equipped by nature with an amiable tactlessness and a happy +gift of blundering, he charged straight at the main point, and landed +on it like a circus elephant alighting on a bottle. + +"I say, you know, about Jill!" + +He stooped to rub the backs of his legs, on which the fire was playing +with a little too fierce a glow, and missed his companion's start and +the sudden thickening of his bushy eyebrows. + +"Well?" said Derek again. + +Freddie nerved himself to proceed. A thought flashed across his mind +that Derek was looking exactly like Lady Underhill. It was the first +time he had seen the family resemblance quite so marked. + +"Ronny Devereux was saying...." faltered Freddie. + +"Damn Ronny Devereux!" + +"Oh, absolutely! But...." + +"Ronny Devereux! Who the devil _is_ Ronny Devereux?" + +"Why, old man, you've heard me speak of him, haven't you? Pal of mine. +He came down to the station with Algy and me to meet your mater that +morning." + +"Oh, _that_ fellow? And he has been saying something about...?" + +"It isn't only Ronny, you know," Freddie hastened to interject. "Algy +Martyn's talking about it, too. And lots of other fellows. And Algy's +sister and a lot of peoples They're all saying...." + +"What are they saying?" + +Freddie bent down and chafed the back of his legs. He simply couldn't +look at Derek while he had that Lady Underhill expression on the old +map. Rummy he had never noticed before how extraordinarily like his +mother he was. Freddie was conscious of a faint sense of grievance. He +could not have put it into words, but what he felt was that a fellow +had no right to go about looking like Lady Underhill. + +"What are they saying?" repeated Derek grimly. + +"Well...." Freddie hesitated. "That it's a bit tough.... On Jill, you +know." + +"They think I behaved badly?" + +"Well.... Oh, well, you know!" + +Derek smiled a ghastly smile. This was not wholly due to mental +disturbance. The dull heaviness which was the legacy of the +Dry-Salters' dinner had begun to change to something more actively +unpleasant. A sub-motive of sharp pain had begun to run through it, +flashing in and out like lightning through a thunder-cloud. He felt +sullen and vicious. + +"I wonder," he said with savage politeness, "if, when you chat with +your friends, you would mind choosing some other topic than my private +affairs." + +"Sorry, old man. But they started it, you know." + +"And, if you feel you've got to discuss me, kindly keep it to +yourself. Don't come and tell me what your damned friends said to each +other and to you and what you said to them, because it bores me. I'm +not interested. I don't value their opinions as much as you seem to." +Derek paused, to battle in silence with the imperious agony within +him. "It was good of you to put me up here," he went on, "but I think +I won't trespass on your hospitality any longer. Perhaps you'll ask +Barker to pack my things to-morrow." Derek moved, as majestically as +an ex-guest of the Worshipful Company of Dry-Salters may, in the +direction of the door. "I shall go to the Savoy." + +"Oh, I say, old man! No need to do that." + +"Good night." + +"But, I say...." + +"And you can tell your friend Devereux that, if he doesn't stop poking +his nose into my private business, I'll pull it off." + +"Well," said Freddie doubtfully, "of course I don't suppose you know, +but.... Ronny's a pretty hefty bird. He boxed for Cambridge in the +light-weights the last year he was up, you know. He...." + +Derek slammed the door. Freddie was alone. He stood rubbing his legs +for some minutes, a rueful expression on his usually cheerful face. +Freddie hated rows. He liked everything to jog along smoothly. What a +rotten place the world was these days! Just one thing after another. +First, poor old Jill takes the knock and disappears. He would miss +her badly. What a good sort! What a pal! And now--gone. Biffed off. +Next, Derek. Together, more or less, ever since Winchester, and +now--bing!... + +Freddie heaved a sigh, and reached out for the _Sporting Times_, his +never-failing comfort in times of depression. He lit another cigar and +curled up in one of the arm-chairs. He was feeling tired. He had been +playing squash all the afternoon, a game at which he was exceedingly +expert and to which he was much addicted. + +Time passed. The paper slipped to the floor. A cold cigar followed it. +From the depths of the chair came a faint snore.... + + * * * * * + +A hand on his shoulder brought Freddie with a jerk from troubled +dreams. Derek was standing beside him. A bent, tousled Derek, +apparently in pain. + +"Freddie!" + +"Hullo!" + +A spasm twisted Derek's face. + +"Have you got any pepsin?" + +Derek uttered a groan. What a mocker of our petty human dignity is +this dyspepsia, bringing low the haughtiest of us, less than love +itself a respecter of persons. This was a different Derek from the man +who had stalked stiffly from the room two hours before. His pride had +been humbled upon the rack. + +"Pepsin?" + +"Yes. I've got the most damned attack of indigestion." + +The mists of sleep rolled away from Freddie. He was awake again, and +became immediately helpful. These were the occasions when the Last of +the Rookes was a good man to have at your side. It was Freddie who +suggested that Derek should recline in the arm-chair which he had +vacated; Freddie who nipped round the corner to the all-night +chemist's and returned with a magic bottle guaranteed to relieve an +ostrich after a surfeit of tenpenny nails; Freddie who mixed and +administered the dose. + +His ministrations were rewarded. Presently the agony seemed to pass. +Derek recovered. + +One would say that Derek became himself again, but that the mood of +gentle remorse which came upon him as he lay in the arm-chair was one +so foreign to his nature. Freddie had never seen him so subdued. He +was like a convalescent child. Between them, the all-night chemist and +the Dry. Salters seemed to have wrought a sort of miracle. These +temporary softenings of personality frequently follow City dinners. +The time to catch your Dry-Salter in angelic mood is the day after the +semi-annual banquet. Go to him then and he will give you his watch and +chain. + +"Freddie," said Derek. + +They were sitting over the dying fire. The clock on the mantelpiece, +beside which Jill's photograph had stood pointed to ten minutes past +two. Derek spoke in a low, soft voice. Perhaps the doctors are right +after all, and two o'clock is the hour at which our self-esteem +deserts us, leaving in its place regret for past sins, good +resolutions for future behaviour. + +"What do Martyn and the others say about ... you know?" + +Freddie hesitated. Pity to start all that again. + +"Oh, I know," went on Derek. "They say I behaved like a cad." + +"Oh, well...." + +"They are quite right. I did." + +"Oh, I shouldn't say that, you know. Faults on both sides and all that +sort of rot." + +"I did!" Derek stared into the fire. Scattered all over London at that +moment, probably a hundred Worshipful Dry-Salters were equally +sleepless and subdued, looking wide-eyed into black pasts. "Is it true +she has gone to America, Freddie?" + +"She told me she was going." + +"What a fool I've been!" + +The clock ticked on through the silence. The fire sputtered faintly, +then gave a little wheeze, like a very old man. Derek rested his chin +on his hands, gazing into the ashes. + +"I wish to God I could go over there and find her." + +"Why don't you?" + +"How can I? There may be an election coming on at any moment. I can't +stir." + +Freddie leaped from his seat. The suddenness of the action sent a +red-hot corkscrew of pain through Derek's head. + +"What the devil's the matter?" he demanded irritably. Even the gentle +mood which comes with convalescence after a City dinner is not +guaranteed to endure against this sort of thing. + +"I've got an idea, old bean!" + +"Well, there's no need to dance, is there?" + +"I've nothing to keep me here, you know. What's the matter with my +popping over to America and finding Jill?" Freddie tramped the floor, +aglow. Each beat of his foot jarred Derek, but he made no complaint. + +"Could you?" he asked eagerly. + +"Of course I could. I was saying only the other day that I had half a +mind to buzz over. It's a wheeze! I'll get on the next boat and charge +over in the capacity of a jolly old ambassador. Have her back in no +time. Leave it to me, old thing! This is where I come out strong!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +JILL IN SEARCH OF AN UNCLE + +I + + +New York welcomed Jill, as she came out of the Pennsylvania Station in +Seventh Avenue, with a whirl of powdered snow that touched her cheek +like a kiss, the cold, bracing kiss one would expect from this vivid +city. She stood at the station entrance, a tiny figure beside the huge +pillars, looking round her with eager eyes. A wind was whipping down +the avenue. The sky was a clear, brilliant tint of the brightest blue. +Energy was in the air, and hopefulness. She wondered if Mr. Elmer +Mariner ever came to New York. It was hard to see how even his gloom +would contrive to remain unaffected by the exhilaration of the place. + +She took Uncle Chris' letter from her bag. He had written from an +address on East Fifty-seventh Street. There would be just time to +catch him before he went out to lunch. She hailed a taxi-cab which was +coming out of the station. + +It was a slow ride, halted repeatedly by congestion of the traffic, +but a short one for Jill. She was surprised at herself, a Londoner of +long standing, for feeling so provincial and being so impressed. But +London was far away. It belonged to a life that seemed years ago and +a world from which she had parted for ever. Moreover, this was +undeniably a stupendous city through which her taxi-cab was carrying +her. At Times Square the stream of the traffic plunged into a +whirlpool, swinging out of Broadway to meet the rapids which poured in +from east, west, and north. On Fifth Avenue all the motor-cars in the +world were gathered together. On the pavements, pedestrians, muffled +against the nipping chill of the crisp air, hurried to and fro. And, +above, that sapphire sky spread a rich velvet curtain which made the +tops of the buildings stand out like the white minarets of some +eastern city of romance. + +The cab drew up in front of a stone apartment house; and Jill, getting +out, passed under an awning through a sort of medićval courtyard, gay +with potted shrubs, to an inner door. She was impressed. Evidently the +tales one heard of fortunes accumulated overnight in this magic city +were true, and one of them must have fallen to the lot of Uncle Chris. +For nobody to whom money was a concern could possibly afford to live +in a place like this. If Croesus and the Count of Monte Cristo had +applied for lodging there, the authorities would probably have looked +on them a little doubtfully at first and hinted at the desirability of +a month's rent in advance. + +In a glass case behind the inner door, reading a newspaper and chewing +gum, sat a dignified old man in the rich uniform of a general in the +Guatemalan army. He was a brilliant spectacle. He wore no jewellery, +but this, no doubt, was due to a private distaste for display. As +there was no one else of humbler rank at hand from whom Jill could +solicit an introduction and the privilege of an audience, she took the +bold step of addressing him directly. + +"I want to see Major Selby, please." + +The Guatemalan general arrested for a moment the rhythmic action of +his jaws, lowered his paper and looked at her with raised eyebrows. At +first Jill thought that he was registering haughty contempt, then she +saw what she had taken for scorn was surprise. + +"Major Selby?" + +"Major Selby." + +"No Major Selby living here." + +"Major Christopher Selby." + +"Not here," said the associate of ambassadors and the pampered pet of +Guatemala's proudest beauties. "Never heard of him in my life!" + + +II + +Jill had read works of fiction in which at certain crises everything +had "seemed to swim" in front of the heroine's eyes, but never till +this moment had she experienced that remarkable sensation herself. The +Saviour of Guatemala did not actually swim, perhaps, but he certainly +flickered. She had to blink to restore his prismatic outlines to their +proper sharpness. Already the bustle and noise of New York had begun +to induce in her that dizzy condition of unreality which one feels in +dreams, and this extraordinary statement added the finishing touch. + +Perhaps the fact that she had said "please" to him when she opened the +conversation touched the heart of the hero of a thousand revolutions. +Dignified and beautiful as he was to the eye of the stranger, it is +unpleasant to have to record that he lived in a world which rather +neglected the minor courtesies of speech. People did not often say +"please" to him. "Here!" "Hi!" and "Gosh darn you!" yes; but seldom +"please." He seemed to approve of Jill, for he shifted his chewing-gum +to a position which facilitated speech, and began to be helpful. + +"What was the name again?" + +"Selby." + +"Howja spell it?" + +"S-e-l-b-y." + +"S-e-l-b-y. Oh, Selby?" + +"Yes, Selby." + +"What was the first name?" + +"Christopher." + +"Christopher?" + +"Yes, Christopher." + +"Christopher Selby? No one of that name living here." + +"But there must be." + +The veteran shook his head with an indulgent smile. + +"You want Mr. Sipperley," he said tolerantly. In Guatemala these +mistakes are always happening. "Mr. George Sipperley. He's on the +fourth floor. What name shall I say?" + +He had almost reached the telephone when Jill stopped him. This is an +age of just-as-good substitutes, but she refused to accept any unknown +Sipperley as a satisfactory alternative for Uncle Chris. + +"I don't want Mr. Sipperley. I want Major Selby." + +"Howja spell it once more?" + +"S-e-l-b-y." + +"S-e-l-b-y. No one of that name living here. Mr. Sipperley--" he spoke +in a wheedling voice, as if determined, in spite of herself, to make +Jill see what was in her best interests--"Mr. Sipperley's on the +fourth floor. Gentleman in the real estate business," he added +insinuatingly. "He's got blond hair and a Boston bull-dog." + +"He may be all you say, and he may have a dozen bull-dogs...." + +"Only one. Jack his name is." + +"... But he isn't the right man. It's absurd. Major Selby wrote to me +from this address. This _is_ Eighteen East Fifty-seventh Street?" + +"This is Eighteen East Fifty-seventh Street," conceded the other +cautiously. + +"I've got his letter here." She opened her bag, and gave an +exclamation of dismay. "It's gone!" + +"Mr. Sipperley used to have a friend staying with him last Fall. A Mr. +Robertson. Dark-complexioned man with a moustache." + +"I took it out to look at the address, and I was sure I put it back. I +must have dropped it." + +"There's a Mr. Rainsby on the seventh floor. He's a broker down on +Wall Street. Short man with an impediment in his speech." + +Jill snapped the clasp of her bag. + +"Never mind," she said. "I must have made a mistake. I was quite sure +that this was the address, but it evidently isn't. Thank you so much. +I'm so sorry to have bothered you." + +She walked away, leaving the Terror of Paraguay and all points west +speechless: for people who said "Thank you so much" to him were even +rarer than those who said "please." He followed her with an +affectionate eye till she was out of sight, then, restoring his +chewing-gum to circulation, returned to the perusal of his paper. A +momentary suggestion presented itself to his mind that what Jill had +really wanted was Mr. Willoughby on the eighth floor, but it was too +late to say so now; and soon, becoming absorbed in the narrative of a +spirited householder in Kansas who had run amuck with a hatchet and +slain six, he dismissed the matter from his mind. + + +III + +Jill walked back to Fifth Avenue, crossed it, and made her way +thoughtfully along the breezy street which, flanked on one side by the +Park and on the other by the green-roofed Plaza Hotel and the +apartment houses of the wealthy, ends in the humbler and more +democratic spaces of Columbus Circle. She perceived that she was in +that position, familiar to melodrama, of being alone in a great city. +The reflection brought with it a certain discomfort. The bag that +dangled from her wrist contained all the money she had in the world, +the very broken remains of the twenty dollars which Uncle Chris had +sent her at Brookport. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep, and no +immediately obvious means of adding to her capital. It was a situation +which she had not foreseen when she set out to walk to Brookport +station. + +She pondered over the mystery of Uncle Chris' disappearance, and found +no solution. The thing was inexplicable. She was as sure of the +address he had given in his letter as she was of anything in the +world. Yet at that address nothing had been heard of him. His name was +not even known. These were deeper waters than Jill was able to fathom. + +She walked on aimlessly. Presently she came to Columbus Circle, and, +crossing Broadway at the point where that street breaks out into an +eruption of automobile shops, found herself, suddenly hungry, opposite +a restaurant whose entire front was a sheet of plate glass. On the +other side of this glass, at marble-topped tables, apparently careless +of their total lack of privacy, sat the impecunious, lunching, their +every mouthful a spectacle for the passer-by. It reminded Jill of +looking at fishes in an aquarium. In the centre of the window, gazing +out in a distrait manner over piles of apples and grape-fruit, a +white-robed ministrant at a stove juggled ceaselessly with buckwheat +cakes. He struck the final note in the candidness of the +establishment, a priest whose ritual contained no mysteries. +Spectators with sufficient time on their hands to permit them to stand +and watch were enabled to witness a New York midday meal in every +stage of its career, from its protoplasmic beginnings as a stream of +yellowish-white liquid poured on top of the stove to its ultimate +Nirvana in the interior of the luncher in the form of an appetising +cake. It was a spectacle which no hungry girl could resist. Jill went +in, and, as she made her way among the tables, a voice spoke her name. + +"Miss Mariner!" + +Jill jumped, and thought for a moment that the thing must have been an +hallucination. It was impossible that anybody in the place should have +called her name. Except for Uncle Chris, wherever he might be, she +knew no one in New York. Then the voice spoke again, competing +valiantly with a clatter of crockery so uproarious as to be more like +something solid than a mere sound. + +"I couldn't believe it was you!" + +A girl in blue had risen from the nearest table, and was staring at +her in astonishment. Jill recognized her instantly. Those big, +pathetic eyes, like a lost child's, were unmistakable. It was the +parrot girl, the girl whom she and Freddie Rooke had found in the +drawing-room at Ovingdon Square that afternoon when the foundations of +the world had given way and chaos had begun. + +"Good gracious!" cried Jill. "I thought you were in London!" + +That feeling of emptiness and panic, the result of her interview with +the Guatemalan general at the apartment house, vanished magically. She +sat down at this unexpected friend's table with a light heart. + +"Whatever are you doing in New York?" asked the girl. "I never knew +you meant to come over." + +"It was a little sudden. Still, here I am. And I'm starving. What are +those things you're eating?" + +"Buckwheat cakes." + +"Oh, yes. I remember Uncle Chris talking about them on the boat. I'll +have some." + +"But when did you come over?" + +"I landed about ten days ago. I've been down at a place called +Brookport on Long Island. How funny running into you like this!" + +"I was surprised that you remembered me." + +"I've forgotten your name," admitted Jill frankly. "But that's +nothing. I always forget names." + +"My name's Nelly Bryant." + +"Of course. And you're on the stage, aren't you?" + +"Yes. I've just got work with Goble and Cohn.... Hullo, Phil!" + +A young man with a lithe figure and smooth black hair brushed straight +back from his forehead had paused at the table on his way to the +cashier's desk. + +"Hello, Nelly." + +"I didn't know you lunched here." + +"Don't often. Been rehearsing with Joe up at the Century Roof, and had +a quarter of an hour to get a bite. Can I sit down?" + +"Sure. This is my friend, Miss Mariner." + +The young man shook hands with Jill, flashing an approving glance at +her out of his dark, restless eyes. + +"Pleased to meet you." + +"This is Phil Brown," said Nelly. "He plays the straight for Joe +Widgeon. They're the best jazz-and-hokum team on the Keith Circuit." + +"Oh, hush!" said Mr. Brown modestly. "You always were a great little +booster, Nelly." + +"Well, you know you are! Weren't you held over at the Palace last +time? Well, then!" + +"That's true," admitted the young man. "Maybe we didn't gool 'em, eh? +Stop me on the street and ask me! Only eighteen bows second house +Saturday!" + +Jill was listening, fascinated. + +"I can't understand a word," she said. "It's like another language." + +"You're from the other side, aren't you?" asked Mr. Brown. + +"She only landed a week ago," said Nelly. + +"I thought so from the accent," said Mr. Brown. "So our talk sort of +goes over the top, does it? Well, you'll learn American soon, if you +stick around." + +"I've learned some already," said Jill. The relief of meeting Nelly +had made her feel very happy. She liked this smooth-haired young man. +"A man on the train this morning said to me, 'Would you care for the +morning paper, sister?' I said, 'No, thanks, brother, I want to look +out of the window and think!'" + +"You meet a lot of fresh guys on trains," commented Mr. Brown +austerely. "You want to give 'em the cold-storage eye." He turned to +Nelly. "Did you go down to Ike, as I told you?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you cop?" + +"Yes. I never felt so happy in my life. I'd waited over an hour on +that landing of theirs, and then Johnny Miller came along, and I +yelled in his ear that I was after work, and he told me it would be +all right. He's awfully good to girls who've worked in shows for him +before. If it hadn't been for him I might have been waiting there +still." + +"Who," enquired Jill, anxious to be abreast of the conversation, "is +Ike?" + +"Mr. Goble. Where I've just got work. Goble and Cohn, you know." + +"I never heard of them!" + +The young man extended his hand. + +"Put it there!" he said. "They never heard of me! At least, the fellow +I saw when I went down to the office hadn't! Can you beat it!" + +"Oh, did you go down there, too?" asked Nelly. + +"Sure. Joe wanted to get in another show on Broadway. He'd sort of got +tired of vodevil. Say, I don't want to scare you, Nelly, but, if you +ask me, that show they're putting out down there is a citron! I don't +think Ike's got a cent of his own money in it. My belief is that he's +running it for a lot of amateurs. Why, say, listen! Joe and I blow in +there to see if there's anything for us, and there's a tall guy in +tortoise-shell cheaters sitting in Ike's office. Said he was the +author and was engaging the principals. We told him who we were, and +it didn't make any hit with him at all. He said he had never heard of +us. And, when we explained, he said no, there wasn't going to be any +of our sort of work in the show. Said he was making an effort to give +the public something rather better than the usual sort of thing. No +specialities required. He said it was an effort to restore the Gilbert +and Sullivan tradition. Say, who are these Gilbert and Sullivan guys, +anyway? They get written up in the papers all the time and I never met +any one who'd run across them. If you want my opinion, that show down +there is a comic opera!" + +"For heaven's sake!" Nelly had the musical comedy performer's horror +of the older-established form of entertainment. "Why, comic opera died +in the year one!" + +"Well, these guys are going to dig it up. That's the way it looks to +me." He lowered his voice. "Say, I saw Clarice last night," he said in +a confidential undertone. "It's all right." + +"It is?" + +"We've made it up. It was like this...." + +His conversation took an intimate turn. He expounded for Nelly's +benefit the inner history, with all its ramifications, of a recent +unfortunate rift between himself and "the best little girl in +Flatbush"--what he had said, what she had said, what her sister had +said, and how it all came right in the end. Jill might have felt a +little excluded, but for the fact that a sudden and exciting idea had +come to her. She sat back, thinking.... After all, what else was she +to do? She must do something.... + +She bent forward and interrupted Mr. Brown in his description of a +brisk passage of arms between himself and the best little girl's +sister, who seemed to be an unpleasant sort of person in every way. + +"Mr. Brown." + +"Hello?" + +"Do you think there would be any chance for me if I asked for work at +Goble and Cohn's?" + +"You're joking!" cried Nelly. + +"I'm not at all." + +"But what do you want with work?" + +"I've got to find some. And right away, too." + +"I don't understand." + +Jill hesitated. She disliked discussing her private affairs, but there +was obviously no way of avoiding it. Nelly was round-eyed and +mystified, and Mr. Brown had manifestly no intention whatever of +withdrawing tactfully. He wanted to hear all. + +"I've lost my money," said Jill. + +"Lost your money! Do you mean...?" + +"I've lost it all. Every penny I had in the world." + +"Tough!" interpolated Mr. Brown judicially. "I was broke once way out +in a tank-town in Oklahoma. The manager skipped with our salaries. +Last we saw of him he was doing the trip to Canada in nothing flat." + +"But how?" gasped Nelly. + +"It happened about the time we met in London. Do you remember Freddie +Rooke, who was at our house that afternoon?" + +A dreamy look came into Nelly's eyes. There had not been an hour since +their parting when she had not thought of that immaculate sportsman. +It would have amazed Freddie, could he have known, but to Nelly Bryant +he was the one perfect man in an imperfect world. + +"Do I!" she sighed ecstatically. + +Mr. Brown shot a keen glance at her. + +"Aha!" he cried facetiously. "Who is he, Nelly? Who is this blue-eyed +boy?" + +"If you want to know," said Nelly, defiance in her tone, "he's the +fellow who gave me fifty pounds, with no strings tied to it--get +that!--when I was broke in London! If it hadn't been for him, I'd be +there still." + +"Did he?" cried Jill. "Freddie!" + +"Yes. Oh, Gee!" Nelly sighed once more. "I suppose I'll never see him +again in this world." + +"Introduce me to him, if you do," said Mr. Brown. "He sounds just the +sort of little pal I'd like to have!" + +"You remember hearing Freddie say something about losing money in a +slump on the Stock Exchange," proceeded Jill. "Well, that was how I +lost mine. It's a long story, and it's not worth talking about, but +that's how things stand, and I've got to find work of some sort, and +it looks to me as if I should have a better chance of finding it on +the stage than anywhere else." + +"I'm terribly sorry." + +"Oh, it's all right. How much would these people Goble and Cohn give +me if I got an engagement?" + +"Only forty a week." + +"Forty dollars a week! It's wealth! Where are they?" + +"Over at the Gotham Theatre in Forty-second Street." + +"I'll go there at once." + +"But you'll hate it. You don't realize what it's like. You wait hours +and hours and nobody sees you." + +"Why shouldn't I walk straight in and say that I've come for work?" + +Nelly's big eyes grew bigger. + +"But you couldn't!' + +"Why not?" + +"Why, you couldn't!" + +"I don't see why." + +Mr. Brown intervened with decision. + +"You're dead right," he said to Jill approvingly. "If you ask me, +that's the only sensible thing to do. Where's the sense of hanging +around and getting stalled? Managers are human guys, some of 'em. +Probably, if you were to try it, they'd appreciate a bit of gall. It +would show 'em you'd got pep. You go down there and try walking +straight in. They can't eat you. It makes me sick when I see all those +poor devils hanging about outside these offices, waiting to get +noticed and nobody ever paying any attention to them. You push the +office-boy in the face if he tries to stop you, and go in and make 'em +take notice. And, whatever you do, don't leave your name and address! +That's the old, moth-eaten gag they're sure to try to pull on you. +Tell 'em there's nothing doing. Say you're out for a quick decision! +Stand 'em on their heads!" + +Jill got up, fired by this eloquence. She called for her check. + +"Good-bye," she said. "I'm going to do exactly as you say. Where can I +find you afterwards?" she said to Nelly. + +"You aren't really going?" + +"I am!" + +Nelly scribbled on a piece of paper. + +"Here's my address. I'll be in all evening." + +"I'll come and see you. Good-bye, Mr. Brown. And thank you." + +"You're welcome!" said Mr. Brown. + +Nelly watched Jill depart with wide eyes. + +"Why did you tell her to do that?" she said. + +"Why not?" said Mr. Brown. "I started something, didn't I? Well, I +guess I'll have to be leaving, too. Got to get back to rehearsal. Say, +I like that friend of yours, Nelly. There's no yellow streak about +her! I wish her luck!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +JILL IGNORES AUTHORITY + +I + + +The offices of Messrs. Goble and Cohn were situated, like everything +else in New York that appertains to the drama, in the neighbourhood of +Times Square. They occupied the fifth floor of the Gotham Theatre on +West Forty-second Street. As there was no lift in the building except +the small private one used by the two members of the firm, Jill walked +up the stairs, and found signs of a thriving business beginning to +present themselves as early as the third floor, where half a dozen +patient persons of either sex had draped themselves like roosting +fowls upon the banisters. There were more on the fourth floor, and the +landing of the fifth, which served the firm as a waiting-room, was +quite full. It is the custom of New York theatrical managers--the +lowest order of intelligence, with the possible exception of the +_limax maximus_ or garden slug, known to science--to omit from their +calculations the fact that they are likely every day to receive a +large number of visitors, whom they will be obliged to keep waiting; +and that these people will require somewhere to wait. Such +considerations never occur to them. Messrs. Goble and Cohn had +provided for those who called to see them one small bench on the +landing, conveniently situated at the intersecting point of three +draughts, and had let it go at that. + +Nobody, except perhaps the night-watchman, had ever seen this bench +empty. At whatever hour of the day you happened to call, you would +always find three wistful individuals seated side by side with their +eyes on the tiny ante-room where sat the office-boy, the +telephone-girl, and Mr. Goble's stenographer. Beyond this was the door +marked "Private," through which, as it opened to admit some careless, +debonair thousand-dollar-a-week comedian who sauntered in with a +jaunty "Hello, Ike!" or some furred and scented female star, the rank +and file of the profession were greeted, like Moses on Pisgah, with a +fleeting glimpse of the promised land, consisting of a large desk and +a section of a very fat man with spectacles and a bald head or a +younger man with fair hair and a double chin. + +The keynote of the mass meeting on the landing was one of determined, +almost aggressive smartness. The men wore bright overcoats with bands +round the waist, the women those imitation furs which to the +uninitiated eye appear so much more expensive than the real thing. +Everybody looked very dashing and very young, except about the eyes. +Most of the eyes that glanced at Jill were weary. The women were +nearly all blondes, blondness having been decided upon in the theatre +as the colour that brings the best results. The men were all so much +alike that they seemed to be members of one large family--an illusion +which was heightened by the scraps of conversation, studded with +"dears," "old mans," and "honeys," which came to Jill's ears. A stern +fight for supremacy was being waged by a score or so of lively and +powerful young scents. + +For a moment Jill was somewhat daunted by the spectacle, but she +recovered almost immediately. The exhilarating and heady influence of +New York still wrought within her. The Berserk spirit was upon her, +and she remembered the stimulating words of Mr. Brown, of Brown and +Widgeon, the best jazz-and-hokum team on the Keith Circuit. "Walk +straight in!" had been the burden of his inspiring address. She pushed +her way through the crowd until she came to the small ante-room. + +In the ante-room were the outposts, the pickets of the enemy. In one +corner a girl was hammering energetically and with great speed on a +typewriter; a second girl, seated at a switchboard, was having an +argument with Central which was already warm and threatened to descend +shortly to personalities; on a chair tilted back so that it rested +against the wall, a small boy sat eating sweets and reading the comic +page of an evening newspaper. All three were enclosed, like zoological +specimens, in a cage formed by a high counter terminating in brass +bars. + +Beyond these watchers on the threshold was the door marked "Private." +Through it, as Jill reached the outer defences, filtered the sound of +a piano. + +Those who have studied the subject have come to the conclusion that +the boorishness of New York theatrical managers' office-boys cannot be +the product of mere chance. Somewhere, in some sinister den in the +criminal districts of the town, there is a school where small boys are +trained for these positions, where their finer instincts are +rigorously uprooted and rudeness systematically inculcated by +competent professors. Of this school the Cerberus of Messrs. Goble and +Cohn had been the star scholar. Quickly seeing his natural gifts, his +teachers had given him special attention. When he had graduated, it +had been amidst the cordial good wishes of the entire staff. They had +taught him all they knew, and they were proud of him. They felt that +he would do them credit. + +This boy raised a pair of pink-rimmed eyes to Jill, sniffed, bit his +thumb-nail, and spoke. He was a snub-nosed boy. His ears and hair were +vermilion. His name was Ralph. He had seven hundred and forty-three +pimples. + +"Woddyerwant?" enquired Ralph, coming within an ace of condensing the +question into a word of one syllable. + +"I want to see Mr. Goble." + +"Zout!" said the Pimple King, and returned to his paper. + +There will, no doubt, always be class distinctions. Sparta had her +kings and her helots, King Arthur's Round Table its knights and its +scullions, America her Simon Legree and her Uncle Tom. But in no +nation and at no period of history has any one ever been so brutally +superior to any one else as is the Broadway theatrical office-boy to +the caller who wishes to see the manager. Thomas Jefferson held these +truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they +are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that +among these rights are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. +Theatrical office-boys do not see eye to eye with Thomas. From their +pinnacle they look down on the common herd, the _canaille_, and +despise them. They coldly question their right to live. + +Jill turned pink. Mr. Brown, her guide and mentor, foreseeing this +situation, had, she remembered, recommended "pushing the office-boy in +the face": and for a moment she felt like following his advice. +Prudence, or the fact that he was out of reach behind the brass bars, +restrained her. Without further delay she made for the door of the +inner room. That was her objective, and she did not intend to be +diverted from it. Her fingers were on the handle before any of those +present divined her intention. Then the stenographer stopped typing +and sat with raised fingers, aghast. The girl at the telephone broke +off in mid-sentence and stared round over her shoulder. Ralph, the +office-boy, outraged, dropped his paper and constituted himself the +spokesman of the invaded force. + +"Hey!" + +Jill stopped and eyed the lad militantly. + +"Were you speaking to me?" + +"Yes, I _was_ speaking to you!" + +"Don't do it again with your mouth full," said Jill, turning to the +door. + +The belligerent fire in the office-boy's pink-rimmed eyes was suddenly +dimmed by a gush of water. It was not remorse that caused him to weep, +however. In the heat of the moment he had swallowed a large, jagged +sweet, and he was suffering severely. + +"You can't go in there!" he managed to articulate, his iron will +triumphing over the flesh sufficiently to enable him to speak. + +"I _am_ going in there!" + +"That's Mr. Goble's private room." + +"Well, I want a private talk with Mr. Goble." + +Ralph, his eyes still moist, felt that the situation was slipping from +his grip. This sort of thing had never happened to him before. "I tell +ya he _zout_!" + +Jill looked at him sternly. + +"You wretched child!" she said, encouraged by a sharp giggle from the +neighbourhood of the switchboard. "Do you know where little boys go +who don't speak the truth? I can hear him playing the piano. Now he's +singing! And it's no good telling me he's busy. If he was busy, he +wouldn't have time to sing. If you're as deceitful as this at your +age, what do you expect to be when you grow up? You're an ugly little +boy, you've got red ears, and your collar doesn't fit! I shall speak +to Mr. Goble about you." + +With which words Jill opened the door and walked in. + +"Good afternoon," she said brightly. + +After the congested and unfurnished discomfort of the landing, the +room in which Jill found herself had an air of cosiness and almost of +luxury. It was a large room, solidly upholstered. Along the further +wall, filling nearly the whole of its space, stood a vast and gleaming +desk, covered with a litter of papers which rose at one end of it to a +sort of mountain of play-scripts in buff covers. There was a +bookshelf to the left. Photographs covered the walls. Near the window +was a deep leather lounge; to the right of this stood a small piano, +the music-stool of which was occupied by a young man with untidy black +hair that needed cutting. On top of the piano, taking the eye +immediately by reason of its bold brightness, was balanced a large +cardboard poster. Much of its surface was filled by a picture of a +youth in polo costume bending over a blonde goddess in a bathing-suit. +What space was left displayed the legend: + +ISAAC GOBLE AND JACOB COHN + +PRESENT + +THE ROSE OF AMERICA + +(A Musical Fantasy) + +BOOK AND LYRICS BY OTIS PILKINGTON + +MUSIC BY ROLAND TREVIS + +Turning her eyes from this, Jill became aware that something was going +on at the other side of the desk, and she perceived that a second +young man, the longest and thinnest she had ever seen, was in the act +of rising to his feet, length upon length like an unfolding snake. At +the moment of her entry he had been lying back in an office-chair, so +that only a merely nominal section of his upper structure was visible. +Now he reared his impressive length until his head came within +measurable distance of the ceiling. He had a hatchet face and a +receding chin, and he gazed at Jill through what she assumed were the +"tortoise-shell cheaters" referred to by her recent acquaintance, Mr. +Brown. + +"Er...?" said this young man enquiringly in a high, flat voice. + +Jill, like many other people, had a brain which was under the +alternating control of two diametrically opposite forces. It was like +a motor-car steered in turn by two drivers, the one a dashing, +reckless fellow with no regard for the speed limits, the other a timid +novice. All through the proceedings up to this point the dasher had +been in command. He had whisked her along at a break-neck pace, +ignoring obstacles and police regulations. Now, having brought her to +this situation, he abruptly abandoned the wheel and turned it over to +his colleague, the shrinker. Jill, greatly daring a moment ago, now +felt an overwhelming shyness. + +She gulped, and her heart beat quickly. The thin man towered over her. +The black-haired pianist shook his locks at her like Banquo. + +"I...." she began. + +Then, suddenly, womanly intuition came to her aid. Something seemed to +tell her that these men were just as scared as she was. And, at the +discovery, the dashing driver resumed his post at the wheel, and she +began to deal with the situation with composure. + +"I want to see Mr. Goble." + +"Mr. Goble is out," said the long young man, plucking nervously at the +papers on the desk. Jill had affected him powerfully. + +"Out!" She felt she had wronged the pimpled office-boy. + +"We are not expecting him back this afternoon. Is there anything I can +do?" + +He spoke tenderly. This weak-minded young man was thinking that he had +never seen anything like Jill before. And it was true that she was +looking very pretty, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. +She touched a chord in the young man which seemed to make the world a +flower-scented thing, full of soft music. Often as he had been in love +at first sight before in his time, Otis Pilkington could not recall an +occasion on which he had been in love at first sight more completely +than now. When she smiled at him, it was as if the gates of heaven had +opened. He did not reflect how many times, in similar circumstances, +these same gates had opened before; and that on one occasion when they +had done so it had cost him eight thousand dollars to settle the case +out of court. One does not think of these things at such times, for +they strike a jarring note. Otis Pilkington was in love. That was all +he knew, or cared to know. + +"Won't you take a seat, Miss...." + +"Mariner," prompted Jill. "Thank you." + +"Miss Mariner. May I introduce Mr. Roland Trevis?" + +The man at the piano bowed. His black hair heaved upon his skull like +seaweed in a ground swell. + +"My name is Pilkington. Otis Pilkington." + +The uncomfortable silence which always follows introductions was +broken by the sound of the telephone-bell on the desk. Otis +Pilkington, who had moved out into the room and was nowhere near the +desk, stretched forth a preposterous arm and removed the receiver. + +"Yes? Oh, will you say, please, that I have a conference at present." +Jill was to learn that people in the theatrical business never talked: +they always held conferences. "Tell Mrs. Peagrim that I shall be +calling later in the afternoon, but cannot be spared just now." He +replaced the receiver. "Aunt Olive's secretary," he murmured in a soft +aside to Mr. Trevis. "Aunt Olive wanted me to go for a ride." He +turned to Jill. "Excuse me. Is there anything I can do for you, Miss +Mariner?" + +Jill's composure was now completely restored. This interview was +turning out so totally different from anything she had expected. The +atmosphere was cosy and social. She felt as if she were back in +Ovingdon Square, giving tea to Freddie Rooke and Ronny Devereux and +the rest of her friends of the London period. All that was needed to +complete the picture was a tea-table in front of her. The business +note hardly intruded on the proceedings at all. Still, as business was +the object of her visit, she felt that she had better approach it. + +"I came for work." + +"Work!" cried Mr. Pilkington. He, too, appeared to be regarding the +interview as purely of a social nature. + +"In the chorus," explained Jill. + +Mr. Pilkington seemed shocked. He winced away from the word as though +it pained him. + +"There is no chorus in 'The Rose of America,'" he said. + +"I thought it was a musical comedy." + +Mr. Pilkington winced again. + +"It is a musical _fantasy_!" he said. "But there will be no chorus. We +shall have," he added, a touch of rebuke in his voice, "the services +of twelve refined ladies of the ensemble." + +Jill laughed. + +"It does sound much better, doesn't it!" she said. "Well, am I refined +enough, do you think?" + +"I shall be only too happy if you will join us," said Mr. Pilkington +promptly. + +The long-haired composer looked doubtful. He struck a note up in the +treble, then whirled round on his stool. + +"If you don't mind my mentioning it, Otie, we have twelve girls +already." + +"Then we must have thirteen," said Otis Pilkington firmly. + +"Unlucky number," argued Mr. Trevis. + +"I don't care. We must have Miss Mariner. You can see for yourself +that she is exactly the type we need." + +He spoke feelingly. Ever since the business of engaging a company had +begun, he had been thinking wistfully of the evening when "The Rose of +America" had had its opening performance--at his aunt's house at +Newport last summer--with an all-star cast of society favourites and +an ensemble recruited entirely from debutantes and matrons of the +Younger Set. That was the sort of company he had longed to assemble +for the piece's professional career, and until this afternoon he had +met with nothing but disappointment. Jill seemed to be the only girl +in theatrical New York who came up to the standard he would have liked +to demand. + +"Thank you very much," said Jill. + +There was another pause. The social note crept into the atmosphere +again. Jill felt the hostess' desire to keep conversation circulating. + +"I hear," she said, "that this piece is a sort of Gilbert and Sullivan +opera." + +Mr. Pilkington considered the point. + +"I confess," he said, "that, in writing the book, I had Gilbert before +me as a model. Whether I have in any sense succeeded in...." + +"The book," said Mr. Trevis, running his fingers over the piano, "is +as good as anything Gilbert ever wrote." + +"Oh, come, Rolie!" protested Mr. Pilkington modestly. + +"Better," insisted Mr. Trevis. "For one thing, it is up-to-date." + +"I _do_ try to strike the modern note," murmured Mr. Pilkington. + +"And you have avoided Gilbert's mistake of being too fanciful." + +"He _was_ fanciful," admitted Mr. Pilkington. "The music," he added, +in a generous spirit of give and take, "has all Sullivan's melody with +a newness of rhythm peculiarly its own. You will like the music." + +"It sounds," said Jill amiably, "as though the piece is bound to be a +tremendous success." + +"We hope so," said Mr. Pilkington. "We feel that the time has come +when the public is beginning to demand something better than what it +has been accustomed to. People are getting tired of the brainless +trash and jingly tunes which have been given them by men like Wallace +Mason and George Bevan. They want a certain polish.... It was just the +same in Gilbert and Sullivan's day. They started writing at a time +when the musical stage had reached a terrible depth of inanity. The +theatre was given over to burlesques of the most idiotic description. +The public was waiting eagerly to welcome something of a higher class. +It is just the same to-day. But the managers will not see it. 'The +Rose of America' went up and down Broadway for months, knocking at +managers' doors." + +"It should have walked in without knocking, like me," said Jill. She +got up. "Well, it was very kind of you to see me when I came in so +unceremoniously. But I felt it was no good waiting outside on that +landing. I'm so glad everything is settled. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, Miss Mariner." Mr. Pilkington took her outstretched hand +devoutly. "There is a rehearsal called for the ensemble at--when is +it, Rolie?" + +"Eleven o'clock, day after to-morrow, at Bryant Hall." + +"I'll be there," said Jill. "Good-bye, and thank you very much." + +The silence which had fallen upon the room as she left it was broken +by Mr. Trevis. + +"Some pip!" observed Mr. Trevis. + +Otis Pilkington awoke from day-dreams with a start. + +"What did you say?" + +"That girl.... I said she was some pippin!" + +"Miss Mariner," said Mr. Pilkington icily, "is a most charming, +refined, cultured, and vivacious girl, if you mean that." + +"Yes," said Mr. Trevis. "That was what I meant!" + + +II + +Jill walked out into Forty-second Street, looking about her with the +eye of a conqueror. Very little change had taken place in the aspect +of New York since she had entered the Gotham Theatre, but it seemed a +different city to her. An hour ago, she had been a stranger, drifting +aimlessly along its rapids. Now she belonged to New York, and New +York belonged to her. She had faced it squarely, and forced from it +the means of living. She walked on with a new jauntiness in her +stride. + +The address which Nelly had given her was on the east side of Fifth +Avenue. She made her way along Forty-second Street. It seemed the +jolliest, alivest street she had ever encountered. The rattle of the +Elevated as she crossed Sixth Avenue was music, and she loved the +crowds that jostled her with every step she took. + +She reached the Fifth Avenue corner just as the policeman out in the +middle of the street swung his Stop-and-Go post round to allow the +up-town traffic to proceed on its way. A stream of cars which had been +dammed up as far as the eye could reach began to flow swiftly past. +They moved in a double line, red limousines, blue limousines, mauve +limousines, green limousines. She stood waiting for the flood to +cease, and, as she did so, there purred past her the biggest and +reddest limousine of all. It was a colossal vehicle with a polar-bear +at the steering-wheel and another at his side. And in the interior, +very much at his ease, his gaze bent courteously upon a massive lady +in a mink coat, sat Uncle Chris. + +For a moment he was so near to her that, but for the closed window, +she could have touched him. Then the polar-bear at the wheel, noting a +gap in the traffic, stepped on the accelerator and slipped neatly +through. The car moved swiftly on and disappeared. + +Jill drew a deep breath. The Stop-and-Go sign swung round again. She +crossed the avenue, and set out once more to find Nelly Bryant. It +occurred to her, five minutes later, that a really practical and +quick-thinking girl would have noted the number of the limousine. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MR. PILKINGTON'S LOVE LIGHT + +I + + +The rehearsals of a musical comedy--a term which embraces "musical +fantasies"--generally begin in a desultory sort of way at that curious +building, Bryant Hall, on Sixth Avenue just off Forty-second Street. +There, in a dusty, uncarpeted room, simply furnished with a few wooden +chairs and some long wooden benches, the chorus--or, in the case of +"The Rose of America," the ensemble--sit round a piano and endeavour, +with the assistance of the musical director, to get the words and +melodies of the first-act numbers into their heads. This done, they +are ready for the dance director to instil into them the steps, the +groupings, and the business for the encores, of which that incurable +optimist always seems to expect there will be at least six. Later, the +principals are injected into the numbers. And finally, leaving Bryant +Hall and dodging about from one unoccupied theatre to another, +principals and chorus rehearse together, running through the entire +piece over and over again till the opening night of the preliminary +road tour. + +To Jill, in the early stages, rehearsing was just like being back at +school. She could remember her first schoolmistress, whom the musical +director somewhat resembled in manner and appearance, hammering out +hymns on a piano and leading in a weak soprano an eager, baying pack +of children, each anxious from motives of pride to out-bawl her +nearest neighbour. + +The proceedings began on the first morning with the entrance of Mr. +Saltzburg, the musical director, a brisk, busy little man with +benevolent eyes behind big spectacles, who bustled over to the piano, +sat down, and played a loud chord, designed to act as a sort of bugle +blast, rallying the ladies of the ensemble from the corners where they +sat in groups, chatting. For the process of making one another's +acquaintance had begun some ten minutes before with mutual +recognitions between those who knew each other from having been +together in previous productions. There followed rapid introductions +of friends. Nelly Bryant had been welcomed warmly by a pretty girl +with red hair, whom she introduced to Jill as Babe; Babe had a willowy +blonde friend, named Lois, and the four of them had seated themselves +on one of the benches and opened a conversation; their numbers being +added to a moment later by a dark girl with a Southern accent and +another blonde. Elsewhere other groups had formed, and the room was +filled with a noise like the chattering of starlings. In a body by +themselves, rather forlorn and neglected, half a dozen solemn and +immaculately dressed young men were propping themselves up against +the wall and looking on, like men in a ball-room who do not dance. + +Jill listened to the conversation without taking any great part in it +herself. She felt as she had done on her first day at school, a little +shy and desirous of effacing herself. The talk dealt with clothes, +men, and the show business, in that order of importance. Presently one +of the young men sauntered diffidently across the room and added +himself to the group with the remark that it was a fine day. He was +received a little grudgingly, Jill thought, but by degrees succeeded +in assimilating himself. A second young man drifted up; reminded the +willowy girl that they had worked together in the western company of +"You're the One"; was recognized and introduced, and justified his +admission to the circle by a creditable imitation of a cat-fight. Five +minutes later he was addressing the Southern girl as "honey," and had +informed Jill that he had only joined this show to fill in before +opening on the three-a-day with the swellest little song-and-dance act +which he and a little girl who worked in the cabaret at Geisenheimer's +had fixed up. + +On this scene of harmony and good-fellowship Mr. Saltzburg's chord +intruded jarringly. There was a general movement, and chairs and +benches were dragged to the piano. Mr. Saltzburg causing a momentary +delay by opening a large brown music-bag and digging in it like a +terrier at a rat-hole, conversation broke out again. + +Mr. Saltzburg emerged from the bag, with his hands full of papers, +protesting. + +"Childrun! Chil-_drun_! If you please, less noise and attend to me!" +He distributed sheets of paper. "Act One, Opening Chorus. I will play +the melody three--four times. Follow attentively. Then we will sing it +la-la-la, and after that we will sing the words. So!" + +He struck the yellow-keyed piano a vicious blow, producing a tinny and +complaining sound. Bending forward with his spectacles almost touching +the music, he plodded determinedly through the tune, then encored +himself, and after that encored himself again. When he had done this, +he removed his spectacles and wiped them. There was a pause. + +"Izzy," observed the willowy young lady chattily, leaning across Jill +and addressing the Southern girl's blonde friend, "has promised me a +sunburst!" + +A general stir of interest and a coming close together of heads. + +"What! Izzy!" + +"Sure, Izzy." + +"Well!" + +"He's just landed the hat-check privilege at the St. Aurea!" + +"You don't say!" + +"He told me so last night and promised me the sunburst. He was," +admitted the willowy girl regretfully, "a good bit tanked at the time, +but I guess he'll make good." She mused awhile, a rather anxious +expression clouding her perfect profile. She looked like a meditative +Greek goddess. "If he doesn't," she added with maidenly dignity, "it's +the last time _I_ go out with the big stiff. I'd tie a can to him +quicker'n look at him!" + +A murmur of approval greeted this admirable sentiment. + +"Childrun!" protested Mr. Saltzburg. "Chil-drun! Less noise and +chatter of conversation. We are here to work! We must not waste time! +So! Act One, Opening Chorus. Now, all together. La-la-la...." + +"La-la-la...." + +"Tum-tum-tumty-tumty...." + +"Tum-tum-tumty...." + +Mr. Saltzburg pressed his hands to his ears in a spasm of pain. + +"No, no, no! Sour! Sour! Sour!... Once again. La-la-la...." + +A round-faced girl with golden hair and the face of a wondering cherub +interrupted, speaking with a lisp. + +"Mithter Thalzburg." + +"Now what is it, Miss Trevor?" + +"What sort of a show is this?" + +"A musical show," said Mr. Saltzburg severely, "and this is a +rehearsal of it, not a conversazione. Once more, please." + +The cherub was not to be rebuffed. + +"Is the music good, Mithter Thalzburg?" + +"When you have rehearsed it, you shall judge for yourself. Come +now...." + +"Is there anything in it as good as that waltz of yours you played us +when we were rehearthing 'Mind How You Go?' You remember. The one that +went...." + +A tall and stately girl, with sleepy brown eyes and the air of a +duchess in the servants' hall, bent forward and took a kindly interest +in the conversation. + +"Oh, have you composed a varlse, Mr. Saltzburg?" she asked with +pleasant condescension. "How interesting, really! Won't you play it +for us?" + +The sentiment of the meeting seemed to be unanimous in favour of +shelving work and listening to Mr. Saltzburg's waltz. + +"Oh, Mr. Saltzburg, do!" + +"Please!" + +"Some one told me it was a pipterino!" + +"I cert'nly do love waltzes!" + +"Please, Mr. Saltzburg!" + +Mr. Saltzburg obviously weakened. His fingers touched the keys +irresolutely. + +"But, childrun!" + +"I am sure it would be a great pleasure to all of us," said the +duchess graciously, "if you would play it. There is nothing I enjoy +more than a good varlse." + +Mr. Saltzburg capitulated. Like all musical directors he had in his +leisure moments composed the complete score of a musical play and +spent much of his time waylaying librettists on the Rialto and trying +to lure them to his apartment to listen to it, with a view to +business. The eternal tragedy of a musical director's life is +comparable only to that of the waiter who, himself fasting, has to +assist others to eat. Mr. Saltzburg had lofty ideas on music, and his +soul revolted at being compelled perpetually to rehearse and direct +the inferior compositions of other men. Far less persuasion than he +had received to-day was usually required to induce him to play the +whole of his score. + +"You wish it?" he said. "Well, then! This waltz, you will understand, +is the theme of a musical romance which I have composed. It will be +sung once in the first act by the heroine, then in the second act as a +duet for heroine and hero. I weave it into the finale of the second +act, and we have an echo of it, sung off stage, in the third act. What +I play you now is the second act duet. The verse is longer. So! The +male voice begins." + +A pleasant time was had by all for ten minutes. + +"Ah, but this is not rehearsing, childrun!" cried Mr. Saltzburg +remorsefully at the end of that period. "This is not business. Come +now, the opening chorus of Act One, and please this time keep on the +key. Before, it was sour, sour Come! La-la-la...." + +"Mr. Thalzburg!" + +"Miss Trevor?" + +"There was an awfully thweet fox-trot you used to play us. I do +wish...." + +"Some other time, some other time! Now we must work. Come! +La-la-la...." + +"I wish you could have heard it, girls" said the cherub regretfully. +"Honetht, it was lalapalootha!" + +The pack broke into full cry. + +"Oh, Mr. Saltzburg!" + +"Please, Mr. Saltzburg!" + +"Do play the fox-trot, Mr. Saltzburg!" + +"If it is as good as the varlse," said the duchess, stooping once more +to the common level, "I am sure it must be very good indeed." She +powdered her nose. "And one so rarely hears musicianly music nowadays, +does one?" + +"Which fox-trot?" asked Mr. Saltzburg weakly. + +"Play 'em all!" decided a voice on the left. + +"Yes, play 'em all," bayed the pack. + +"I am sure that that would be charming," agreed the duchess, replacing +her powder-puff. + +Mr. Saltzburg played 'em all. This man by now seemed entirely lost to +shame. The precious minutes that belonged to his employers and should +have been earmarked for "The Rose of America" flitted by. The ladies +and gentlemen of the ensemble, who should have been absorbing and +learning to deliver the melodies of Roland Trevis and the lyrics of +Otis Pilkington, lolled back in their seats. The yellow-keyed piano +rocked beneath an unprecedented onslaught. The proceedings had begun +to resemble not so much a rehearsal as a happy home evening, and +grateful glances were cast at the complacent cherub. She had, it was +felt, shown tact and discretion. + +Pleasant conversation began again. + +"... And I walked a couple of blocks, and there was exactly the same +model in Schwartz and Gulderstein's window at twenty-six fifty...." + +"... He got on Forty-second Street, and he was kinda fresh from the +start. At Sixty-sixth he came sasshaying right down the car and said +'Hello, patootie!' Well, I drew myself up...." + +"... Even if you are my sister's husband,' I said to him. Oh, I +suppose I got a temper. It takes a lot to arouse it, y'know, but I c'n +get pretty mad...." + +"... You don't know the half of it, dearie, you don't know the half of +it! A one-piece bathing suit! Well, you could call it that, but the +cop of the beach said it was more like a baby's sock. And when...." + +"... So I said 'Listen, Izzy, that'll be about all from you! My father +was a gentleman, though I don't suppose you know what that means, and +I'm not accustomed....'" + +"Hey!" + +A voice from the neighbourhood of the door had cut into the babble +like a knife into butter; a rough, rasping voice, loud and compelling, +which caused the conversation of the members of the ensemble to cease +on the instant. Only Mr. Saltzburg, now in a perfect frenzy of +musicianly fervour, continued to assault the decrepit piano, unwitting +of an unsympathetic addition to his audience. + +"What I play you now is the laughing trio from my second act. It is a +building number. It is sung by tenor, principal comedian, and +soubrette. On the second refrain four girls will come out and two +boys. The girls will dance with the two men, the boys with the +soubrette. So! On the encore four more girls and two more boys. Third +encore, solo-dance for specialty dancer, all on stage beating time by +clapping their hands. On repeat, all sing refrain once more, and off. +Last encore, the three principals and specialty dancer dance the dance +with entire chorus. It is a great building number, you understand. It +is enough to make the success of any musical play, but can I get a +hearing? No! If I ask managers to listen to my music, they are busy! +If I beg them to give me a libretto to set, they laugh--ha! ha!" Mr. +Saltzburg gave a spirited and lifelike representation of a manager +laughing ha-ha when begged to disgorge a libretto. "Now I play it once +more!" + +"Like hell you do!" said the voice. "Say, what is this, anyway? A +concert?" + +Mr. Saltzburg swung round on the music-stool, a startled and +apprehensive man, and nearly fell off it. The divine afflatus left him +like air oozing from a punctured toy-balloon, and, like such a +balloon, he seemed to grow suddenly limp and flat. He stared with +fallen jaw at the new arrival. + +Two men had entered the room. One was the long Mr. Pilkington. The +other, who looked shorter and stouter than he really was beside his +giraffe-like companion, was a thick-set, fleshy man in the early +thirties with a blond, clean-shaven, double-chinned face. He had +smooth, yellow hair, an unwholesome complexion, and light green eyes, +set close together. From the edge of the semi-circle about the piano, +he glared menacingly over the heads of the chorus at the unfortunate +Mr. Saltzburg. + +"Why aren't these girls working?" + +Mr. Saltzburg, who had risen nervously from his stool, backed away +apprehensively from his gaze, and, stumbling over the stool, sat down +abruptly on the piano, producing a curious noise like Futurist music. + +"I--We--Why, Mr. Goble...." + +Mr. Goble turned his green gaze on the concert audience, and spread +discomfort as if it were something liquid which he was spraying +through a hose. The girls who were nearest looked down flutteringly at +their shoes: those further away concealed themselves behind their +neighbours. Even the duchess, who prided herself on being the +possessor of a stare of unrivalled haughtiness, before which the fresh +quailed and those who made breaks subsided in confusion, was unable to +meet his eyes: and the willowy friend of Izzy, for all her victories +over that monarch of the hat-checks, bowed before it like a slim tree +before a blizzard. + +Only Jill returned the manager's gaze. She was seated on the outer rim +of the semi-circle, and she stared frankly at Mr. Goble. She had never +seen anything like him before, and he fascinated her. This behaviour +on her part singled her out from the throng, and Mr. Goble +concentrated his attention on her. + +For some seconds he stood looking at her; then, raising a stubby +finger, he let his eye travel over the company, and seemed to be +engrossed in some sort of mathematical calculation. + +"Thirteen," he said at length. "I make it thirteen." He rounded on Mr. +Pilkington. "I told you we were going to have a chorus of twelve." + +Mr. Pilkington blushed and stumbled over his feet. + +"Ah, yes ... yes," he murmured vaguely. "Yes!" + +"Well, there are thirteen here. Count 'em for yourself." He whipped +round on Jill. "What's _your_ name? Who engaged you?" + +A croaking sound from the neighbourhood of the ceiling indicated the +clearing of Mr. Pilkington's throat. + +"I--er--_I_ engaged Miss Mariner, Mr. Goble." + +"Oh, _you_ engaged her?" + +He stared again at Jill. The inspection was long and lingering, and +affected Jill with a sense of being inadequately clothed. She returned +the gaze as defiantly as she could, but her heart was beating fast. +She had never yet been frightened of any man, but there was something +reptilian about this fat, yellow-haired individual which disquieted +her, much as cockroaches had done in her childhood. A momentary +thought flashed through her mind that it would be horrible to be +touched by him. He looked soft and glutinous. + +"All right," said Mr. Goble at last, after what seemed to Jill many +minutes. He nodded to Mr. Saltzburg. "Get on with it! And try working +a little this time! I don't hire you to give musical entertainments." + +"Yes, Mr. Goble, yes. I mean no, Mr. Goble!" + +"You can have the Gotham stage this afternoon," said Mr. Goble. "Call +the rehearsal for two sharp." + +Outside the door, he turned to Mr. Pilkington. + +"That was a fool trick of yours, hiring that girl. Thirteen! I'd as +soon walk under a ladder on a Friday as open in New York with a chorus +of thirteen. Well, it don't matter. We can sack one of 'em after we've +opened on the road." He mused for a moment. "Darned pretty girl, +that!" he went on meditatively. "Where did you get her?" + +"She--ah--came into the office, when you were out. She struck me as +being essentially the type we required for our ensemble, so +I--er--engaged her. She--" Mr. Pilkington gulped. "She is a charming, +refined girl!" + +"She's darned pretty," admitted Mr. Goble, and went on his way wrapped +in thought, Mr. Pilkington following timorously. It was episodes like +the one that had just concluded which made Otis Pilkington wish that +he possessed a little more assertion. He regretted wistfully that he +was not one of those men who can put their hat on the side of their +heads and shoot out their chins and say to the world "Well, what about +it!" He was bearing the financial burden of this production. If it +should be a failure, his would be the loss. Yet somehow this coarse, +rough person in front of him never seemed to allow him a word in the +executive policy of the piece. He treated him as a child. He +domineered and he shouted, and behaved as if he were in sole command. +Mr Pilkington sighed. He rather wished he had never gone into this +undertaking. + +Inside the room, Mr. Saltzburg wiped his forehead, his spectacles, and +his hands. He had the aspect of one who wakes from a dreadful dream. + +"Childrun!" he whispered brokenly. "Childrun! If you please, once +more. Act One, Opening Chorus. Come! La-la-la!" + +"La-la-la!" chanted the subdued members of the ensemble. + + +II + +By the time the two halves of the company, ensemble and principals, +melted into one complete whole, the novelty of her new surroundings +had worn off, and Jill was feeling that there had never been a time +when she had not been one of a theatrical troupe, rehearsing. The +pleasant social gatherings round Mr. Saltzburg's piano gave way in a +few days to something far less agreeable and infinitely more +strenuous, the breaking-in of the dances under the supervision of the +famous Johnson Miller. Johnson Miller was a little man with snow-white +hair and the india-rubber physique of a juvenile acrobat. Nobody knew +actually how old he was, but he certainly looked much too advanced in +years to be capable of the feats of endurance which he performed +daily. He had the untiring enthusiasm of a fox-terrier, and had +bullied and scolded more companies along the rocky road that leads to +success than any half-dozen dance-directors in the country, in spite +of his handicap in being almost completely deaf. He had an almost +miraculous gift of picking up the melodies for which it was his +business to design dances, without apparently hearing them. He seemed +to absorb them through the pores. He had a blunt and arbitrary manner, +and invariably spoke his mind frankly and honestly--a habit which made +him strangely popular in a profession where the language of equivoque +is cultivated almost as sedulously as in the circles of international +diplomacy. What Johnson Miller said to your face was official, not +subject to revision as soon as your back was turned, and people +appreciated this. + +Izzy's willowy friend summed him up one evening when the ladies of the +ensemble were changing their practice-clothes after a particularly +strenuous rehearsal, defending him against the Southern girl, who +complained that he made her tired. + +"You bet he makes you tired," she said. "So he does me. I'm losing my +girlish curves, and I'm so stiff I can't lace my shoes. But he knows +his business and he's on the level, which is more than you can say of +most of these guys in the show business." + +"That's right," agreed the Southern girl's blonde friend. "He does +know his business. He's put over any amount of shows which would have +flopped like dogs without him to stage the numbers." + +The duchess yawned. Rehearsing always bored her, and she had not been +greatly impressed by what she had seen of "The Rose of America." + +"One will be greatly surprised if he can make a success of _this_ +show! I confess I find it perfectly ridiculous." + +"Ithn't it the limit, honetht!" said the cherub, arranging her golden +hair at the mirror. "It maketh me thick! Why on earth ith Ike putting +it on?" + +The girl who knew everything--there is always one in every +company--hastened to explain. + +"I heard all about that. Ike hasn't any of his own money in the thing. +He's getting twenty-five per cent of the show for running it. The +angel is the long fellow you see jumping around. Pilkington his name +is." + +"Well, it'll need to be Rockefeller later on," said the blonde. + +"Oh, they'll get thomebody down to fixth it after we've been out on +the road a couple of days," said the cherub, optimistically. "They +alwayth do. I've seen worse shows than this turned into hits. All it +wants ith a new book and lyrics and a different thcore." + +"And a new set of principals," said the red-headed Babe. "Did you ever +see such a bunch?" + +The duchess, with another tired sigh, arched her well-shaped eyebrows +and studied the effect in the mirror. + +"One wonders where they pick these persons up," she assented +languidly. "They remind me of a headline I saw in the paper this +morning--'Tons of Hams Unfit for Human Consumption.' Are any of you +girls coming my way? I Can give two or three of you a lift in my +limousine." + +"Thorry, old dear, and thanks ever so much," said the cherub, "but I +instructed Clarence, my man, to have the street-car waiting on the +corner, and he'll be too upset if I'm not there." + +Nelly had an engagement to go and help one of the other girls buy a +Spring suit, a solemn rite which it is impossible to conduct by +oneself: and Jill and the cherub walked to the corner together. Jill +had become very fond of the little thing since rehearsals began. She +reminded her of a London sparrow. She was so small and perky and so +absurdly able to take care of herself. + +"Limouthine!" snorted the cherub. The duchess' concluding speech +evidently still rankled. "She gives me a pain in the gizthard!" + +"Hasn't she got a limousine?" asked Jill. + +"Of course she hasn't. She's engaged to be married to a demonstrator +in the Speedwell Auto Company, and he thneaks off when he can get away +and gives her joy-rides. That's all the limouthine she's got. It beats +me why girls in the show business are alwayth tho crazy to make +themselves out vamps with a dozen millionaires on a string. If Mae +wouldn't four-flush and act like the Belle of the Moulin Rouge, she'd +be the nithest girl you ever met. She's mad about the fellow she's +engaged to, and wouldn't look at all the millionaires in New York if +you brought 'em to her on a tray. She's going to marry him as thoon as +he's thaved enough to buy the furniture, and then she'll thettle down +in Harlem thomewhere and cook and mind the baby and regularly be one +of the lower middle classes. All that's wrong with Mae ith that she's +read Gingery Stories and thinkth that's the way a girl has to act when +she'th in the chorus." + +"That's funny," said Jill. "I should never have thought it. I +swallowed the limousine whole." + +The cherub looked at her curiously. Jill puzzled her. Jill had, +indeed, been the subject of much private speculation among her +colleagues. + +"This is your first show, ithn't it?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"Thay, what are you doing in the chorus, anyway?" + +"Getting scolded by Mr. Miller mostly, it seems to me. + +"Thcolded by Mr. Miller! Why didn't you say 'bawled out by Johnny'? +That'th what any of the retht of us would have said." + +"Well, I've lived most of my life in England. You can't expect me to +talk the language yet." + +"I thought you were English. You've got an acthent like the fellow who +plays the dude in thith show. Thay, why did you ever get into the show +business?" + +"Well ... well, why did you? Why does anybody?" + +"Why did I? Oh, I belong there. I'm a regular Broadway rat. I wouldn't +be happy anywhere elthe. I was born in the show business. I've got two +thithters in the two-a-day and a brother in thtock in California and +dad's one of the betht comedians on the burlethque wheel. But any one +can thee you're different. There's no reathon why you should be +sticking around in the chorus." + +"But there is. I've no money, and I can't do anything to make it." + +"Honetht?" + +"Honest." + +"That's tough." The cherub pondered, her round eyes searching Jill's +face. "Why don't you get married?" + +Jill laughed. + +"Nobody's asked me." + +"Somebody thoon will. At least, if he's on the level, and I think he +is. You can generally tell by the look of a guy, and, if you ask me, +friend Pilkington's got the licence in hith pocket and the ring all +ordered and everything." + +"Pilkington!" cried Jill aghast. + +She remembered certain occasions during rehearsals, when, while the +chorus idled in the body of the theatre and listened to the principals +working at their scenes, the elongated Pilkington had suddenly +appeared in the next seat and conversed sheepishly in a low voice. +Could this be love? If so, it was a terrible nuisance. Jill had had +her experience in London of enamoured young men who, running true to +national form, declined to know when they were beaten, and she had not +enjoyed the process of cooling their ardour. She had a kind heart, and +it distressed her to give pain. It also got on her nerves to be dogged +by stricken males who tried to catch her eye in order that she might +observe their broken condition. She recalled one house-party in Wales +where it rained all the time and she had been cooped up with a victim +who kept popping out from obscure corners and beginning all his pleas +with the words "I say, you know...!" She trusted that Otis Pilkington +was not proposing to conduct a wooing on those lines. Yet he had +certainly developed a sinister habit of popping out at the theatre. On +several occasions he had startled her by appearing at her side as if +he had come up out of a trap. + +"Oh, no!" cried Jill. + +"Oh, yeth!" insisted the cherub, waving imperiously to an approaching +street-car. "Well, I must be getting up-town. I've got a date. Thee +you later." + +"I'm sure you're mistaken." + +"I'm not." + +"But what makes you think so?" + +The cherub placed a hand on the rail of the car, preparatory to +swinging herself on board. + +"Well, for one thing," she said, "he'th been stalking you like an +Indian ever since we left the theatre! Look behind you. Good-bye, +honey. Thend me a piece of the cake!" + +The street-car bore her away. The last that Jill saw of her was a wide +and amiable grin. Then, turning, she beheld the snake-like form of +Otis Pilkington towering at her side. + +Mr. Pilkington seemed nervous but determined. His face was half hidden +by the silk scarf that muffled his throat, for he was careful of his +health and had a fancied tendency to bronchial trouble. Above the +scarf a pair of mild eyes gazed down at Jill through their +tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles. It was hopeless for Jill to try to +tell herself that the tender gleam behind the glass was not the love +light in Otis Pilkington's eyes. The truth was too obvious. + +"Good evening, Miss Mariner," said Mr. Pilkington, his voice sounding +muffled and far away through the scarf. "Are you going up-town?" + +"No, down-town," said Jill quickly. + +"So am I," said Mr. Pilkington. + +Jill felt annoyed, but helpless. It is difficult to bid a tactful +farewell to a man who has stated his intention of going in the same +direction as yourself. There was nothing for it but to accept the +unspoken offer of Otis Pilkington's escort. They began to walk down +Broadway together. + +"I suppose you are tired after the rehearsal?" enquired Mr. +Pilkington in his precise voice. He always spoke as if he were +weighing each word and clipping it off a reel. + +"A little. Mr. Miller is very enthusiastic." + +"About the piece?" Her companion spoke eagerly. + +"No; I meant hard-working." + +"Has he said anything about the piece?" + +"Well, no. You see, he doesn't confide in us a great deal, except to +tell us his opinion of the way we do the steps. I don't think we +impress him very much, to judge from what he says. But the girls say +he always tells every chorus he rehearses that it is the worst he ever +had anything to do with." + +"And the chor--the--er--ladies of the ensemble? What do they think of +the piece?" + +"Well, I don't suppose they are very good judges, are they?" said Jill +diplomatically. + +"You mean they do not like it?" + +"Some of them don't seem quite to understand it." + +Mr. Pilkington was silent for a moment. + +"I am beginning to wonder myself whether it may not be a little over +the heads of the public," he said ruefully. "When it was first +performed...." + +"Oh, has it been done before?" + +"By amateurs, yes, at the house of my aunt, Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim, +at Newport, last summer. In aid of the Armenian orphans. It was +extraordinarily well received on that occasion. We nearly made our +expenses. It was such a success that--I feel I can confide in you. I +should not like this repeated to your--your--the other ladies--it was +such a success that, against my aunt's advice, I decided to give it a +Broadway production. Between ourselves, I am shouldering practically +all the expenses of the undertaking. Mr. Goble has nothing to do with +the financial arrangements of 'The Rose of America.' Those are +entirely in my hands. Mr. Goble, in return for a share in the profits, +is giving us the benefit of his experience as regards the management +and booking of the piece. I have always had the greatest faith in it. +Trevis and I wrote it when we were in college together, and all our +friends thought it exceptionally brilliant. My aunt, as I say, was +opposed to the venture. She holds the view that I am not a good man of +business. In a sense, perhaps, she is right. Temperamentally, no +doubt, I am more the artist. But I was determined to show the public +something superior to the so-called Broadway successes, which are so +terribly trashy. Unfortunately, I am beginning to wonder whether it is +possible, with the crude type of actor at one's disposal in this +country, to give a really adequate performance of such a play as 'The +Rose of America.' These people seem to miss the spirit of the piece, +its subtle topsy-turvy humour, its delicate whimsicality. This +afternoon," Mr. Pilkington choked. "This afternoon I happened to +overhear two of the principals, who were not aware that I was within +earshot, discussing the play. One of them--these people express +themselves curiously--one of them said that he thought it a quince: +and the other described it as a piece of gorgonzola cheese! That is +not the spirit that wins success!" + +Jill was feeling immensely relieved. After all, it seemed, this poor +young man merely wanted sympathy, not romance. She had been mistaken, +she felt, about that gleam in his eyes. It was not the lovelight: it +was the light of panic. He was the author of the play. He had sunk a +large sum of money in its production, he had heard people criticizing +it harshly, and he was suffering from what her colleagues in the +chorus would have called cold feet. It was such a human emotion and he +seemed so like an overgrown child pleading to be comforted that her +heart warmed to him. Relief melted her defences. And when, on their +arrival at Thirty-fourth Street Mr. Pilkington suggested that she +partake of a cup of tea at his apartment, which was only a couple of +blocks away off Madison Avenue, she accepted the invitation without +hesitating. + +On the way to his apartment Mr. Pilkington continued in the minor key. +He was a great deal more communicative than she herself would have +been to such a comparative stranger as she was, but she knew that men +were often like this. Over in London, she had frequently been made the +recipient of the most intimate confidences by young men whom she had +met for the first time the same evening at a dance. She had been +forced to believe that there was something about her personality that +acted on a certain type of man like the crack in the dam, setting +loose the surging flood of their eloquence. To this class Otis +Pilkington evidently belonged, for, once started, he withheld nothing. + +"It isn't that I'm dependent on Aunt Olive or anything like that," he +vouchsafed, as he stirred the tea in his Japanese-print hung studio. +"But you know how it is. Aunt Olive is in a position to make it very +unpleasant for me if I do anything foolish. At present, I have reason +to know that she intends to leave me practically all that she +possesses. Millions!" said Mr. Pilkington, handing Jill a cup. "I +assure you, millions! But there is a hard commercial strain in her. It +would have the most prejudicial effect upon her if; especially after +she had expressly warned me against it, I were to lose a great deal of +money over this production. She is always complaining that I am not a +business man like my late uncle. Mr. Waddesleigh Peagrim made a +fortune in smoked hams." Mr. Pilkington looked at the Japanese prints, +and shuddered slightly. "Right up to the time of his death he was +urging me to go into the business. I could not have endured it. But, +when I heard those two men discussing the play, I almost wished that I +had done so." + +Jill was now completely disarmed. She would almost have patted this +unfortunate young man's head, if she could have reached it. + +"I shouldn't worry about the piece," she said. "I've read somewhere or +heard somewhere that it's the surest sign of a success when actors +don't like a play." + +Mr. Pilkington drew his chair an imperceptible inch nearer. + +"How sympathetic you are!" + +Jill perceived with chagrin that she had been mistaken after all. It +_was_ the love light. The tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles sprayed it +all over her like a couple of searchlights. Otis Pilkington was +looking exactly like a sheep, and she knew from past experience that +that was the infallible sign. When young men looked like that, it was +time to go. + +"I'm afraid I must be off," she said. "Thank you so much for giving me +tea. I shouldn't be a bit afraid about the play. I'm sure it's going +to be splendid. Good-bye." + +"You aren't going already?" + +"I must. I'm very late as it is. I promised...." + +Whatever fiction Jill might have invented to the detriment of her soul +was interrupted by a ring at the bell. The steps of Mr. Pilkington's +Japanese servant crossing the hall came faintly to the sitting-room. + +"Mr. Pilkington in?" + +Otis Pilkington motioned pleadingly to Jill. + +"Don't go!" he urged. "It's only a man I know. He has probably come +to remind me that I am dining with him to-night. He won't stay a +minute. Please don't go." + +Jill sat down. She had no intention of going now. The cheery voice at +the front door had been the cheery voice of her long-lost uncle, Major +Christopher Selby. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +UNCLE CHRIS BORROWS A FLAT + +I + + +Uncle Chris walked breezily into the room, flicking a jaunty glove. He +stopped short on seeing that Mr. Pilkington was not alone. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon! I understood...." He peered at Jill +uncertainly. Mr. Pilkington affected a dim, artistic lighting-system +in his studio, and people who entered from the great outdoors +generally had to take time to accustom their eyes to it. "If you're +engaged...." + +"Er--allow me.... Miss Mariner.... Major Selby." + +"Hullo, Uncle Chris!" said Jill. + +"God bless my soul!" ejaculated that startled gentleman adventurer, +and collapsed on to a settee as if his legs had been mown from under +him. + +"I've been looking for you all over New York," said Jill. + +Mr. Pilkington found himself unequal to the intellectual pressure of +the conversation. + +"Uncle Chris?" he said with a note of feeble enquiry in his voice. + +"Major Selby is my uncle." + +"Are you sure?" said Mr. Pilkington. "I mean...." + +Not being able to ascertain, after a moment's self-examination, what +he did mean, he relapsed into silence. + +"Whatever are you doing here?" asked Uncle Chris. + +"I've been having tea with Mr. Pilkington." + +"But ... but why Mr. Pilkington?" + +"Well, he invited me." + +"But how do you know him?" + +"We met at the theatre." + +"Theatre?" + +Otis Pilkington recovered his power of speech. + +"Miss Mariner is rehearsing with a little play in which I am +interested," he explained. + +Uncle Chris half rose from the settee. He blinked twice in rapid +succession. Jill had never seen him so shaken from his customary +poise. + +"Don't tell me you have gone on the stage, Jill!" + +"I have. I'm in the chorus...." + +"Ensemble," corrected Mr. Pilkington softly. + +"I'm in the ensemble of a piece called 'The Rose of America.' We've +been rehearsing for ever so long." + +Uncle Chris digested this information in silence for a moment He +pulled at his short moustache. + +"Why, of course!" he said at length. Jill, who knew him so well, could +tell by the restored ring of cheeriness in his tone that he was +himself again. He had dealt with this situation in his mind and was +prepared to cope with it. The surmise was confirmed the next instant +when he rose and stationed himself in front of the fire. Mr. +Pilkington detested steam-heat and had scoured the city till he had +found a studio apartment with an open fireplace. Uncle Chris spread +his legs and expanded his chest. "Of course," he said. "I remember now +that you told me in your letter that you were thinking of going on the +stage. My niece," explained Uncle Chris to the attentive Mr. +Pilkington, "came over from England on a later boat. I was not +expecting her for some weeks. Hence my surprise at meeting her here. +Of course. You told me that you intended to go on the stage, and I +strongly recommended you to begin at the bottom of the ladder and +learn the ground-work thoroughly before you attempted higher flights." + +"Oh, that was it?" said Mr. Pilkington. He had been wondering. + +"There is no finer training," resumed Uncle Chris, completely at his +ease once more, "than the chorus. How many of the best-known actresses +in America began in that way! Dozens. Dozens. If I were giving advice +to any young girl with theatrical aspirations, I should say 'Begin in +the chorus!' On the other hand," he proceeded, turning to Mr. +Pilkington, "I think it would be just as well if you would not mention +the fact of my niece being in that position to Mrs. Waddesleigh +Peagrim. She might not understand." + +"Exactly," assented Mr. Pilkington. + +"The term 'chorus'...." + +"I dislike it intensely myself." + +"It suggests...." + +"Precisely." + +Uncle Chris inflated his chest again, well satisfied. + +"Capital!" he said. "Well, I only dropped in to remind you, my boy, +that you and your aunt are dining with me to-night. I was afraid a +busy man like you might forget." + +"I was looking forward to it," said Mr. Pilkington, charmed at the +description. + +"You remember the address? Nine East Forty-first Street. I have moved, +you remember." + +"So that was why I couldn't find you at the other place," said Jill. +"The man at the door said he had never heard of you." + +"Stupid idiot!" said Uncle Chris testily. "These New York hall-porters +are recruited entirely from homes for the feeble-minded. I suppose he +was a new man. Well, Pilkington, my boy, I shall expect you at seven +o'clock. Good-bye till then. Come, Jill." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Pilkington," said Jill. + +"Good-bye for the present, Miss Mariner," said Mr. Pilkington, bending +down to take her hand. The tortoise-shell spectacles shot a last soft +beam at her. + +As the front door closed behind them, Uncle Chris heaved a sigh of +relief. + +"Whew! I think I handled that little contretemps with diplomacy! A +certain amount of diplomacy, I think!" + +"If you mean," said Jill severely, "that you told some disgraceful +fibs...." + +"Fibs, my dear--or shall we say, artistic mouldings of the unshapely +clay of truth--are the ... how shall I put it?... Well, anyway, they +come in dashed handy. It would never have done for Mrs. Peagrim to +have found out that you were in the chorus. If she discovered that my +niece was in the chorus, she would infallibly suspect me of being an +adventurer. And while," said Uncle Chris meditatively, "of course I +_am_, it is nice to have one's little secrets. The good lady has had a +rooted distaste for girls in that perfectly honourable but maligned +profession ever since our long young friend back there was sued for +breach of promise by a member of a touring company in his second year +at college. We all have our prejudices. That is hers. However, I +think, we may rely on our friend to say nothing about the matter.... +But why did you do it? My dear child, whatever induced you to take +such a step?" + +Jill laughed. + +"That's practically what Mr. Miller said to me when we were rehearsing +one of the dances this afternoon, only he put it differently." She +linked her arm in his. "What else could I do? I was alone in New York +with the remains of that twenty dollars you sent me and no more in +sight." + +"But why didn't you stay down at Brookport with your Uncle Elmer?" + +"Have you ever seen my Uncle Elmer?" + +"No. Curiously enough, I never have." + +"If you had, you wouldn't ask. Brookport! Ugh! I left when they tried +to get me to understudy the hired man, who had resigned." + +"What!" + +"Yes, they got tired of supporting me in the state to which I was +accustomed--I don't blame them!--so they began to find ways of making +me useful about the home. I didn't mind reading to Aunt Julia, and I +could just stand taking Tibby for walks. But, when it came to +shoveling snow, I softly and silently vanished away." + +"But I can't understand all this. I suggested to your +uncle--diplomatically--that you had large private means." + +"I know you did. And he spent all his time showing me over houses and +telling me I could have them for a hundred thousand dollars cash +down." Jill bubbled. "You should have seen his face when I told him +that twenty dollars was all I had in the world!" + +"You didn't tell him that!" + +"I did." + +Uncle Chris shook his head, like an indulgent father disappointed in a +favourite child. + +"You're a dear girl, Jill, but really you do seem totally lacking +in ... how shall I put it?--finesse. Your mother was just the same. A +sweet woman, but with no diplomacy, no notion of _handling_ a +situation. I remember her as a child giving me away hopelessly on one +occasion after we had been at the jam-cupboard. She did not mean any +harm, but she was constitutionally incapable of a tactful negative at +the right time." Uncle Chris brooded for a moment on the past. "Oh, +well, it's a very fine trait, no doubt, though inconvenient. I don't +blame you for leaving Brookport if you weren't happy there. But I wish +you had consulted me before going on the stage." + +"Shall I strike this man?" asked Jill of the world at large. "How +could I consult you? My darling, precious uncle, don't you realize +that you had vanished into thin air, leaving me penniless? I had to do +something. And, now that we are on the subject, perhaps you will +explain your movements. Why did you write to me from that place on +Fifty-seventh Street if you weren't there?" + +Uncle Chris cleared his throat. + +"In a sense ... when I wrote ... I _was_ there." + +"I suppose that means something, but it's beyond me. I'm not nearly as +intelligent as you think, Uncle Chris, so you'll have to explain." + +"Well, it was this way, my dear. I was in a peculiar position you must +remember. I had made a number of wealthy friends on the boat and it is +possible that--unwittingly--I gave them the impression that I was as +comfortably off as themselves. At any rate, that is the impression they +gathered, and it hardly seemed expedient to correct it. For it is a +deplorable trait in the character of the majority of rich people that they +only--er--expand--they only show the best and most companionable side of +themselves to those whom they imagine to be as wealthy as they are. Well, +of course, while one was on the boat, the fact that I was sailing under +what a purist might have termed false colours did not matter. The problem +was how to keep up the--er--innocent deception after we had reached New +York. A woman like Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim--a ghastly creature, my dear, +all front teeth and exuberance, but richer than the Sub-Treasury--looks +askance at a man, however agreeable, if he endeavours to cement a +friendship begun on board ship from a cheap boarding-house on Amsterdam +Avenue. It was imperative that I should find something in the nature of +what I might call a suitable base of operations. Fortune played into my +hands. One of the first men I met in New York was an old soldier-servant +of mine, to whom I had been able to do some kindnesses in the old days. In +fact--it shows how bread cast upon the waters returns to us after many +days--it was with the assistance of a small loan from me that he was +enabled to emigrate to America. Well, I met this man, and, after a short +conversation, he revealed the fact that he was the hall-porter at that +apartment-house which you visited, the one on Fifty-Seventh Street. At +this time of the year, I knew, many wealthy people go south, to Florida +and the Carolinas, and it occurred to me that there might be a vacant +apartment in his building. There was. I took it." + +"But how on earth could you afford to pay for an apartment in a place +like that?" + +Uncle Chris coughed. + +"I didn't say I paid for it. I said I took it. That is, as one might +say, the point of my story. My old friend, grateful for favours +received and wishing to do me a good turn, consented to become my +accomplice in another--er--innocent deception. I gave my friends the +address and telephone number of the apartment-house, living the while +myself in surroundings of a somewhat humbler and less expensive +character. I called every morning for letters. If anybody rang me up +on the telephone, the admirable man answered in the capacity of my +servant, took a message, and relayed it on to me at my boarding-house. +If anybody called, he merely said that I was out. There wasn't a flaw +in the whole scheme, my dear, and its chief merit was its beautiful +simplicity." + +"Then what made you give it up? Conscience?" + +"Conscience never made me give up _anything_," said Uncle Chris +firmly. "No, there were a hundred chances to one against anything +going wrong, and it was the hundredth that happened. When you have +been in New York longer, you will realize that one peculiarity of the +place is that the working-classes are in a constant state of flux. On +Monday you meet a plumber. Ah! you say, a plumber! Capital! On the +following Thursday you meet him again, and he is a car-conductor. Next +week he will be squirting soda in a drug-store. It's the fault of +these dashed magazines, with their advertisements of correspondence +courses--Are You Earning All You Should?--Write To Us and Learn +Chicken-Farming By Mail.... It puts wrong ideas into the fellows' +heads. It unsettles them. It was so in this case. Everything was going +swimmingly, when my man suddenly conceived the idea that destiny had +intended him for a chauffeur-gardener, and he threw up his position!" + +"Leaving you homeless!" + +"As you say, homeless--temporarily. But, fortunately--I have been +amazingly lucky all through; it really does seem as if you cannot keep +a good man down--fortunately my friend had a friend who was janitor at +a place on East Forty-first Street, and by a miracle of luck the only +apartment in the building was empty. It is an office-building, but, +like some of these places, it has one small bachelor's apartment on +the top floor." + +"And you are the small bachelor?" + +"Precisely. My friend explained matters to his friend--a few financial +details were satisfactorily arranged--and here I am, perfectly happy +with the cosiest little place in the world, rent free. I am even +better off than I was before, as a matter of fact, for my new ally's +wife is an excellent cook, and I have been enabled to give one or two +very pleasant dinners at my new home. It lends verisimilitude to the +thing if you can entertain a little. If you are never in when people +call, they begin to wonder. I am giving dinner to your friend +Pilkington and Mrs. Peagrim there to-night. Homey, delightful, and +infinitely cheaper than a restaurant." + +"And what will you do when the real owner of the place walks in in the +middle of dinner?" + +"Out of the question. The janitor informs me that he left for England +some weeks ago, intending to make a stay of several months." + +"Well, you certainly think of everything." + +"Whatever success I may have achieved," replied Uncle Chris, with the +dignity of a Captain of Industry confiding in an interviewer, "I +attribute to always thinking of everything." + +Jill gurgled with laughter. There was that about her uncle which +always acted on her moral sense like an opiate, lulling it to sleep +and preventing it from rising up and becoming critical. If he had +stolen a watch and chain, he would somehow have succeeded in +convincing her that he had acted for the best under the dictates of a +benevolent altruism. + +"What success _have_ you achieved?" she asked, interested. "When you +left me, you were on your way to find a fortune. Did you find it?" + +"I have not actually placed my hands on it yet," admitted Uncle Chris. +"But it is hovering in the air all round me. I can hear the beating of +the wings of the dollar-bills as they flutter to and fro, almost +within reach. Sooner or later I shall grab them. I never forget, my +dear, that I have a task before me--to restore to you the money of +which I deprived you. Some day--be sure--I shall do it. Some day you +will receive a letter from me, containing a large sum--five +thousand--ten thousand--twenty thousand--whatever it may be, with the +simple words 'First Instalment.'" He repeated the phrase, as if it +pleased him. "First Instalment!" + +Jill hugged his arm. She was in the mood in which she used to listen +to him ages ago telling her fairy stories. + +"Go on!" she cried. "Go on! It's wonderful! Once upon a time Uncle +Chris was walking along Fifth Avenue, when he happened to meet a poor +old woman gathering sticks for firewood. She looked so old and tired +that he was sorry for her, so he gave her ten cents which he had +borrowed from the janitor, and suddenly she turned into a beautiful +girl and said 'I am a fairy! In return for your kindness I grant you +three wishes!' And Uncle Chris thought for a moment, and said, 'I want +twenty thousand dollars to send to Jill!' And the fairy said, 'It +shall be attended to. And the next article?'" + +"It is all very well to joke," protested Uncle Chris, pained by this +flippancy, "but let me tell you that I shall not require magic +assistance to become a rich man. Do you realize that at houses like +Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim's I am meeting men all the time who have only +to say one little word to make me a millionaire? They are fat, grey +men with fishy eyes and large waistcoats, and they sit smoking cigars +and brooding on what they are going to do to the market next day. If I +were a mind-reader I could have made a dozen fortunes by now. I sat +opposite that old pirate, Bruce Bishop, for over an hour the very day +before he and his gang sent Consolidated Pea-Nuts down twenty points! +If I had known what was in the wind, I doubt if I could have +restrained myself from choking his intentions out of the fellow. Well, +what I am trying to point out is that one of these days one of these +old oysters will have a fleeting moment of human pity and disgorge +some tip on which I can act. It is that reflection that keeps me so +constantly at Mrs. Peagrim's house." Uncle Chris shivered slightly. "A +fearsome woman, my dear! Weighs a hundred and eighty pounds and as +skittish as a young lamb in springtime! She makes me dance with her!" +Uncle Chris' lips quivered in a spasm of pain, and he was silent for a +moment. "Thank Heaven I was once a footballer!" he said reverently. + +"But what do you live on?" asked Jill. "I know you are going to be a +millionaire next Tuesday week, but how are you getting along in the +meantime?" + +Uncle Chris coughed. + +"Well, as regards actual living expenses, I have managed by a shrewd +business stroke to acquire a small but sufficient income. I live in a +boarding-house--true--but I contrive to keep the wolf away from its +door--which, by the by, badly needs a lick of paint. Have you ever +heard of Nervino?" + +"I don't think so. It sounds like a patent medicine." + +"It _is_ a patent medicine." Uncle Chris stopped and looked anxiously +at her. "Jill, you're looking pale, my dear." + +"Am I? We had rather a tiring rehearsal." + +"Are you sure," said Uncle Chris seriously, "that it is only that? Are +you sure that your vitality has not become generally lowered by the +fierce rush of Metropolitan life? Are you aware of the things that can +happen to you if you allow the red corpuscles of your blood to become +devitalised? I had a friend...." + +"Stop! You're scaring me to death!" + +Uncle Chris gave his moustache a satisfied twirl. + +"Just what I meant to do, my dear. And, when I had scared you +sufficiently--you wouldn't wait for the story of my consumptive +friend. Pity! It's one of my best!--I should have mentioned that I had +been having much the same trouble myself until lately, but the other +day I happened to try Nervino, the great specific.... I was giving you +an illustration of myself in action, my dear. I went to these Nervino +people--happened to see one of their posters and got the idea in a +flash--I went to them and said, 'Here am I, a presentable man of +persuasive manners and a large acquaintance among the leaders of New +York Society. What would it be worth to you to have me hint from time +to time at dinner parties and so forth that Nervino is the rich man's +panacea?' I put the thing lucidly to them. I said, 'No doubt you have +a thousand agents in the city, but have you one who does not look like +an agent and won't talk like an agent? Have you one who is inside the +houses of the wealthy, at their very dinner-tables, instead of being +on the front step, trying to hold the door open with his foot? That is +the point you have to consider.' They saw the idea at once. We +arranged terms--not as generous as I could wish, perhaps, but quite +ample. I receive a tolerably satisfactory salary each week, and in +return I spread the good word about Nervino in the gilded palaces of +the rich. Those are the people to go for, Jill. They have been so +busy wrenching money away from the widow and the orphan that they +haven't had time to look after their health. You catch one of them +after dinner, just as he is wondering if he was really wise in taking +two helpings of the lobster Newburg, and he is clay in your hands. I +draw my chair up to his and become sympathetic and say that I had +precisely the same trouble myself until recently, and mention a dear +old friend of mine who died of indigestion, and gradually lead the +conversation round to Nervino. I don't force it on them. I don't even +ask them, to try it. I merely point to myself, rosy with health, and +say that I owe everything to it, and the thing is done. They thank me +profusely and scribble the name down on their shirt-cuffs. And there +you are! I don't suppose," said Uncle Chris philosophically, "that the +stuff can do them any actual harm." + +They had come to the corner of Forty-first Street. Uncle Chris felt in +his pocket and produced a key. + +"If you want to go and take a look at my little nest, you can let +yourself in. It's on the twenty-second floor. Don't fail to go out on +the roof and look at the view. It's worth seeing. It will give you +some idea of the size of the city. A wonderful, amazing city, my dear, +full of people who need Nervino. I shall go on and drop in at the club +for half an hour. They have given me a fortnight's card at the Avenue. +Capital place. Here's the key." + +Jill turned down Forty-first Street, and came to a mammoth structure +of steel and stone which dwarfed the modest brown houses beside it +into nothingness. It was curious to think of a private flat nestling +on the summit of this mountain. She went in, and the lift shot her +giddily upwards to the twenty-second floor. She found herself facing a +short flight of stone steps, ending in a door. She mounted the steps, +tried the key, and, turning it, entered a hall-way. Proceeding down +the passage, she reached a sitting-room. + +It was a small room, but furnished with a solid comfort which soothed +her. For the first time since she had arrived in New York, she had the +sense of being miles away from the noise and bustle of the city. There +was a complete and restful silence. She was alone in a nest of books +and deep chairs, on which a large grandfather-clock looked down with +that wide-faced benevolence peculiar to its kind. So peaceful was +this eyrie, perched high up above the clamour and rattle of +civilization, that every nerve in her body seemed to relax in a +delicious content. It was like being in Peter Pan's house in the +tree-tops. + + +II + +Jill possessed in an unusual degree that instinct for exploration +which is implanted in most of us. She was frankly inquisitive, and +could never be two minutes in a strange room without making a tour of +it and examining its books, pictures, and photographs. Almost at once +she began to prowl. + +The mantelpiece was her first objective. She always made for other +people's mantelpieces, for there, more than anywhere else, is the +character of a proprietor revealed. This mantelpiece was sprinkled +with photographs, large, small, framed and unframed. In the centre of +it, standing all alone and looking curiously out of place among its +large neighbours, was a little snapshot. + +It was dark by the mantelpiece. Jill took the photograph to the +window, where the fading light could fall on it. Why, she could not +have said, but the thing interested her. There was mystery about it. +It seemed in itself so insignificant to have the place of honour. + +The snapshot had evidently been taken by an amateur, but it was one of +those lucky successes which happen at rare intervals to amateur +photographers to encourage them to proceed with their hobby. It showed +a small girl in a white dress cut short above slim, black legs, +standing in the porch of an old house, one hand swinging a sun-bonnet, +the other patting an Irish terrier which had planted its front paws +against her waist and was looking up into her face with that grave +melancholy characteristic of Irish terriers. The sunlight was +evidently strong, for the child's face was puckered in a twisted +though engaging grin. Jill's first thought was "What a jolly kid!" And +then, with a leaping of the heart that seemed to send something big +and choking into her throat, she saw that it was a photograph of +herself. + +With a swooping bound memory raced back over the years. She could feel +the hot sun on her face, hear the anxious voice of Freddie Rooke--then +fourteen and for the first time the owner of a camera--imploring her +to stand just like that because he wouldn't be half a minute only some +rotten thing had stuck or something. Then the sharp click, the +doubtful assurance of Freddie that he thought it was all right if he +hadn't forgotten to shift the film (in which case she might expect to +appear in combination with a cow which he had snapped on his way to +the house), and the relieved disappearance of Pat, the terrier, who +didn't understand photography. How many years ago had that been? She +could not remember. But Freddie had grown to long-legged manhood, she +to an age of discretion and full-length frocks, Pat had died, the old +house was inhabited by strangers ... and here was the silent record of +that sun-lit afternoon, three thousand miles away from the English +garden in which it had come into existence. + +The shadows deepened. The top of the great building swayed gently, +causing the pendulum of the grandfather-clock to knock against the +sides of its wooden case. Jill started. The noise, coming after the +dead silence, frightened her till she realized what it was. She had a +nervous feeling of not being alone. It was as if the shadows held +goblins that peered out at the intruder. She darted to the mantelpiece +and replaced the photograph. She felt like some heroine of a +fairy-story meddling with the contents of the giant's castle. Soon +there would come the sound of a great footstep thud--thud.... + +_Thud._ + +Jill's heart gave another leap. She was perfectly sure she had heard a +sound. It had been just like the banging of a door. She braced +herself, listening, every muscle tense. And then, cleaving the +stillness, came a voice from down the passage-- + + "Just see them Pullman porters, + Dolled up with scented waters + Bought with their dimes and quarters! + See, here they come! Here they come!" + +For an instant Jill could not have said whether she was relieved or +more frightened than ever. True, that numbing sense of the uncanny had +ceased to grip her, for Reason told her that spectres do not sing +rag-time songs. On the other hand, owners of apartments do, and she +would almost as readily have faced a spectre as the owner of this +apartment. Dizzily, she wondered how in the world she was to explain +her presence. Suppose he turned out to be some awful-choleric person +who would listen to no explanations. + + "Oh, see those starched-up collars! + Hark how their captain hollers + 'Keep time! Keep time!' + It's worth a thousand dollars + To see those tip-collectors...." + +Very near now. Almost at the door. + + "Those upper-berth inspectors, + Those Pullman porters on parade!" + +A dim, shapeless figure in the black of the doorway. The scrabbling of +fingers on the wall. + +"Where are you, dammit?" said the voice, apparently addressing the +electric-light switch. + +Jill shrank back, desperate fingers pressing deep into the back of an +arm-chair. Light flashed from the wall at her side. And there, in the +doorway, stood Wally Mason in his shirt-sleeves. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE AMBASSADOR ARRIVES + +I + + +In these days of rapid movement, when existence has become little more +than a series of shocks of varying intensity, astonishment is the +shortest-lived of all the emotions. There was an instant in which Jill +looked at Wally and Wally at Jill with the eye of total amazement, and +then, almost simultaneously, each began--the process was +subconscious--to regard this meeting not as an isolated and +inexplicable event, but as something resulting from a perfectly +logical chain of circumstances. + +"Hullo!" said Wally. + +"Hullo!" said Jill. + +It was not a very exalted note on which to pitch the conversation, but +it had the merit of giving each of them a little more time to collect +themselves. + +"This is.... I wasn't expecting you!" said Wally. + +"I wasn't expecting _you_!" said Jill. + +There was another pause, in which Wally, apparently examining her last +words and turning them over in his mind, found that they did not +square with his preconceived theories. + +"You weren't expecting me?" + +"I certainly was not!" + +"But ... but you knew I lived here?" + +Jill shook her head. Wally reflected for an instant, and then put his +finger, with a happy inspiration, on the very heart of the mystery. + +"Then how on earth did you get here?" + +He was glad he had asked that. The sense of unreality which had come +to him in the first startling moment of seeing her and vanished under +the influence of logic had returned as strong as ever. If she did not +know he lived in this place, how in the name of everything uncanny had +she found her way here? A momentary wonder as to whether all this was +not mixed up with telepathy and mental suggestion and all that sort of +thing came to him. Certainly he had been thinking of her all the time +since their parting at the Savoy Hotel that night three weeks and more +back.... No, that was absurd. There must be some sounder reason for +her presence. He waited for her to give it. + +Jill for the moment felt physically incapable of giving it. She shrank +from the interminable explanation which confronted her as a weary +traveller shrinks from a dusty, far-stretching desert. She simply +could not go into all that now. So she answered with a question. + +"When did you land in New York?" + +"This afternoon. We were supposed to dock this morning, but the boat +was late." Wally perceived that he was being pushed away from the main +point, and jostled his way back to it. "But what are you doing here?" + +"It's such a long story." + +Her voice was plaintive. Remorse smote Wally. It occurred to him that +he had not been sufficiently sympathetic. Not a word had he said on +the subject of her change of fortunes. He had just stood and gaped and +asked questions. After all, what the devil did it matter how she came +to be here? He had anticipated a long and tedious search for her +through the labyrinth of New York, and here Fate had brought her to +his very door, and all he could do was to ask why, instead of being +thankful. He perceived that he was not much of a fellow. + +"Never mind," he said. "You can tell me when you feel like it." He +looked at her eagerly. Time seemed to have wiped away that little +misunderstanding under the burden of which they had parted. "It's too +wonderful finding you like this!" He hesitated. "I heard +about--everything," he said awkwardly. + +"My--" Jill hesitated too. "My smash?" + +"Yes. Freddie Rooke told me. I was terribly sorry." + +"Thank you," said Jill. + +There was a pause. They were both thinking of that other disaster +which had happened. The presence of Derek Underhill seemed to stand +like an unseen phantom between them. Finally Wally spoke at random, +choosing the first words that came into his head in his desire to +break the silence. + +"Jolly place, this, isn't it?" + +Jill perceived that an opening for those tedious explanations had been +granted her. + +"Uncle Chris thinks so," she said demurely. + +Wally looked puzzled. + +"Uncle Chris? Oh, your uncle?" + +"Yes." + +"But--he has never been here." + +"Oh, yes. He's giving a dinner-party here to-night!" + +"He's ... what did you say?" + +"It's all right. I only began at the end of the story instead of the +beginning. I'll tell you the whole thing. And then ... then I suppose +you will be terribly angry and make a fuss." + +"I'm not much of a lad, as Freddie Rooke would say, for making fusses. +And I can't imagine being terribly angry with you." + +"Well, I'll risk it. Though, if I wasn't a brave girl, I should leave +Uncle Chris to explain for himself and simply run away." + +"Anything is better than that. It's a miracle meeting you like this, +and I don't want to be deprived of the fruits of it. Tell me anything, +but don't go." + +"You'll be furious." + +"Not with you." + +"I should hope not with me. I've done nothing. I am the innocent +heroine. But I'm afraid you will be very angry with Uncle Chris." + +"If he's your uncle, that passes him. Besides, he once licked the +stuffing out of me with a whangee. That forms a bond. Tell me all." + +Jill considered. She had promised to begin at the beginning, but it +was difficult to know what was the beginning. + +"Have you ever heard of Captain Kidd?" she asked at length. + +"You're wandering from the point, aren't you?" + +"No, I'm not. _Have_ you heard of Captain Kidd?" + +"The pirate? Of course." + +"Well, Uncle Chris is his direct lineal descendant. That really +explains the whole thing." + +Wally looked at her enquiringly. + +"Could you make it a little easier?" he said. + +"I can tell you everything in half a dozen words, if you like. But it +will sound awfully abrupt." + +"Go ahead." + +"Uncle Chris has stolen your apartment." + +Wally nodded slowly. + +"I see. Stolen my apartment." + +"Of course you can't possibly understand. I shall have to tell you the +whole thing, after all." + +Wally listened with flattering attention as she began the epic of +Major Christopher Selby's doings in New York. Whatever his emotions, +he certainly was not bored. + +"So that's how it all happened," concluded Jill. + +For a moment Wally said nothing. He seemed to be digesting what he had +heard. + +"I see," he said at last. "It's a variant of those advertisements they +print in the magazines. 'Why pay rent? Own somebody else's home!'" + +"That _does_ rather sum it up," said Jill. + +Wally burst into a roar of laughter. + +"He's a corker!" + +Jill was immensely relieved. For all her courageous bearing, she had +not relished the task of breaking the news to Wally. She knew that he +had a sense of humour, but a man may have a sense of humour and yet +not see anything amusing in having his home stolen in his absence. + +"I'm so glad you're not angry." + +"Of course not." + +"Most men would be." + +"Most men are chumps." + +"It's so wonderful that it happened to be you. Suppose it had been an +utter stranger! What could I have done?" + +"It would have been the same thing. You would have won him over in two +minutes. Nobody could resist you." + +"That's very sweet of you." + +"I can't help telling the truth. Washington was just the same." + +"Then you don't mind Uncle Chris giving his dinner-party here +to-night?" + +"He has my blessing." + +"You really are an angel," said Jill gratefully. "From what he said, I +think he looks on it as rather an important function. He has invited a +very rich woman, who has been showing him a lot of hospitality--a Mrs. +Peagrim...." + +"Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim?" + +"Yes? Why, do you know her?" + +"Quite well. She goes in a good deal for being Bohemian and knowing +people who write and paint and act and so on. That reminds me. I gave +Freddie Rooke a letter of introduction to her." + +"Freddie Rooke!" + +"Yes. He suddenly made up his mind to come over. He came to me for +advice about the journey. He sailed a couple of days before I did. I +suppose he's somewhere in New York by now, unless he was going on to +Florida. He didn't tell me what his plans were." + +Jill was conscious of a sudden depression. Much as she liked Freddie, +he belonged to a chapter in her life which was closed and which she +was trying her hardest to forget. It was impossible to think of +Freddie without thinking of Derek, and to think of Derek was like +touching an exposed nerve. The news that Freddie was in New York +shocked her. New York had already shown itself a city of chance +encounters. Could she avoid meeting Freddie? + +She knew Freddie so well. There was not a dearer or a better-hearted +youth in the world, but he had not that fine sensibility which pilots +a man through the awkwardnesses of life. He was a blunderer. Instinct +told her that, if she met Freddie, he would talk of Derek, and, if +thinking of Derek was touching an exposed nerve, talking of him would +be like pressing on that nerve with a heavy hand. She shivered. + +Wally was observant. + +"There's no need to meet him if you don't want to," he said. + +"No," said Jill doubtfully. + +"New York's a large place. By the way," he went on, "to return once +more to the interesting subject of my lodger, does your uncle sleep +here at nights, do you know?" + +Jill looked at him gratefully. He was no blunderer. Her desire to +avoid Freddie Rooke was, he gave her tacitly to understand, her +business, and he did not propose to intrude on it. She liked him for +dismissing the subject so easily. + +"No, I think he told me he doesn't." + +"Well, that's something, isn't it! I call that darned nice of him! I +wonder if I could drop back here somewhere about eleven o'clock. Are +the festivities likely to be over by then? If I know Mrs. Peagrim, she +will insist on going off to one of the hotels to dance directly after +dinner. She's a confirmed trotter." + +"I don't know how to apologize," began Jill remorsefully. + +"Please don't. It's absolutely all right." His eye wandered to the +mantelpiece, as it had done once or twice during the conversation. In +her hurry Jill had replaced the snapshot with its back to the room, +and Wally had the fidgety air of a man whose most cherished possession +is maltreated. He got up now and, walking across, turned the +photograph round. He stood for a moment, looking at it. Jill had +forgotten the snapshot. Curiosity returned to her. + +"Where _did_ you get that?" she asked. + +Wally turned. + +"Oh, did you see this?" + +"I was looking at it just before you nearly frightened me to death by +appearing so unexpectedly." + +"Freddie Rooke sold it to me fourteen years ago." + +"Fourteen years ago?" + +"Next July," added Wally. "I gave him five shillings for it." + +"Five shillings! The little brute!" cried Jill indignantly. "It must +have been all the money you had in the world!" + +"A trifle more, as a matter of fact. All the money I had in the world +was three-and-six. But by a merciful dispensation of Providence the +curate had called that morning and left a money-box for subscriptions +to the village organ-fund.... It's wonderful what you can do with a +turn for crime and the small blade of a pocket-knife! I don't think I +have ever made money quicker!" He looked at the photograph again. "Not +that it seemed quick at the moment. I died at least a dozen agonizing +deaths in the few minutes I was operating. Have you ever noticed how +slowly time goes when you are coaxing a shilling and a sixpence out of +somebody's money-box? Centuries! But I was forgetting. Of course +you've had no experience." + +"You poor thing!" + +"It was worth it." + +"And you've had it ever since!" + +"I wouldn't part with it for all Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim's millions," +said Wally with sudden and startling vehemence, "if she offered me +them." He paused. "She hasn't, as a matter of fact." + +There was a silence. Jill looked at Wally furtively as he returned to +his seat. She was seeing him with new eyes. It was as if this trifling +incident had removed some sort of a veil. He had suddenly become more +alive. For an instant she had seen right into him, to the hidden deeps +of his soul. She felt shy and embarrassed. + +"Pat died," she said at length. She felt the necessity of saying +something. + +"I liked Pat." + +"He picked up some poison, poor darling.... How long ago those days +seem, don't they?" + +"They are always pretty vivid to me. I wonder who has that old house +of yours now." + +"I heard the other day," said Jill more easily. The odd sensation of +embarrassment was passing. "Some people called ... what was the +name?... Debenham, I think." + +Silence fell again. It was broken by the front-door bell, like an +alarm-clock that shatters a dream. + +Wally got up. + +"Your uncle," he said. + +"You aren't going to open the door?" + +"That was the scheme." + +"But he'll get such a shock when he sees you." + +"He must look on it in the light of rent. I don't see why I shouldn't +have a little passing amusement from this business." + +He left the room. Jill heard the front door open. She waited +breathlessly. Pity for Uncle Chris struggled with the sterner feeling +that it served him right. + +"Hullo!" she heard Wally say. + +"Hullo-ullo-ullo!" replied an exuberant voice. "Wondered if I'd find +you in, and all that sort of thing. I say, what a deuce of a way up it +is here. Sort of get a chappie into training for going to heaven, +what? I mean, what?" + +Jill looked about her like a trapped animal. It was absurd, she felt, +but every nerve in her body cried out against the prospect of meeting +Freddie. His very voice had opened old wounds and set them throbbing. + +She listened in the doorway. Out of sight down the passage, Freddie +seemed by the sounds to be removing his overcoat. She stole out and +darted like a shadow down the corridor that led to Wally's bedroom. +The window of the bedroom opened on to the wide roof which Uncle Chris +had eulogized. She slipped noiselessly out, closing the window behind +her. + + +II + +"I say, Mason, old top," said Freddie, entering the sitting-room, "I +hope you don't mind my barging in like this, but the fact is things +are a bit thick. I'm dashed worried, and I didn't know another soul I +could talk it over with. As a matter of fact, I wasn't sure you were +in New York at all, but I remembered hearing you say in London that +you were popping back almost at once, so I looked you up in the +telephone book and took a chance. I'm dashed glad you _are_ back. When +did you arrive?" + +"This afternoon." + +"I've been here two or three days. Well, it's a bit of luck catching +you. You see, what I want to ask your advice about...." + +Wally looked at his watch. He was not surprised to find that Jill had +taken to flight. He understood her feelings perfectly, and was anxious +to get rid of the inopportune Freddie as soon as possible. + +"You'll have to talk quick, I'm afraid," he said. "I've lent this +place to a man for the evening, and he's having some people to dinner. +What's the trouble?" + +"It's about Jill." + +"Jill?" + +"Jill Mariner, you know. You remember Jill? You haven't forgotten my +telling you all that? About her losing her money and coming over to +America?" + +"No. I remember you telling me that." + +Freddie seemed to miss something in his companion's manner, some note +of excitement and perturbation. + +"Of course," he said, as if endeavouring to explain this to himself, +"you hardly knew her, I suppose. Only met once since you were kids and +all that sort of thing. But I'm a pal of hers and I'm dashed upset by +the whole business, I can tell you. It worries me, I mean to say. Poor +girl, you know, landed on her uppers in a strange country. Well, I +mean, it worries me. So the first thing I did when I got here was to +try to find her. That's why I came over, really, to try to find her. +Apart from anything else, you see, poor old Derek is dashed worried +about her." + +"Need we bring Underhill in?" + +"Oh, I know you don't like him and think he behaved rather rummily and +so forth, but that's all right now." + +"It is, is it?" said Wally drily. + +"Oh, absolutely. It's all on again." + +"What's all on again?" + +"Why, I mean he wants to marry Jill. I came over to find her and tell +her so." + +Wally's eyes glowed. + +"If you have come over as an ambassador...." + +"That's right. Jolly old ambassador. Very word I used myself." + +"I say, if you have come over as an ambassador with the idea of +reopening negotiations with Jill on behalf of that infernal swine...." + +"Old man!" protested Freddie, pained. "Pal of mine, you know." + +"If he is, after what's happened, your mental processes are beyond +me." + +"My what, old son?" + +"Your mental processes." + +"Oh, ah!" said Freddie, learning for the first time that he had any. + +Wally looked at him intently. There was a curious expression on his +rough-hewn face. + +"I can't understand you, Freddie. If ever there was a fellow who might +have been expected to take the only possible view of Underhill's +behaviour in this business, I should have said it was you. You're a +public-school man. You've mixed all the time with decent people. You +wouldn't do anything that wasn't straight yourself to save your life. +Yet it seems to have made absolutely no difference in your opinion of +this man Underhill that he behaved like an utter cad to a girl who +was one of your best friends. You seem to worship him just as much as +ever. And you have travelled three thousand miles to bring a message +from him to Jill--Good God! _Jill_!--to the effect, as far as I can +understand it, that he has thought it over and come to the conclusion +that after all she may possibly be good enough for him!" + +Freddie recovered the eye-glass which the raising of his eyebrows had +caused to fall, and polished it in a crushed sort of way. Rummy, he +reflected, how chappies stayed the same all their lives as they were +when they were kids. Nasty, tough sort of chap Wally Mason had been as +a boy, and here he was, apparently, not altered a bit. At least the +only improvement he could detect was that, whereas in the old days +Wally, when in an ugly mood like this, would undoubtedly have kicked +him, he now seemed content with mere words. All the same, he was being +dashed unpleasant. And he was all wrong about poor Derek. This last +fact he endeavoured to make clear. + +"You don't understand," he said. "You don't realize. You've never met +Lady Underhill, have you?" + +"What has she got to do with it?" + +"Everything, old bean, everything. If it hadn't been for her, there +wouldn't have been any trouble of any description, sort, or order. But +she barged in and savaged poor old Derek till she absolutely made him +break off the engagement." + +"If you call him 'poor old Derek' again, Freddie," said Wally +viciously, "I'll drop you out of the window and throw your hat after +you! If he's such a gelatine-backboned worm that his mother can...." + +"You don't know her, old thing! She's _the_ original hellhound!" + +"I don't care what...." + +"Must be seen to be believed," mumbled Freddie. + +"I don't care what she's like! Any man who could...." + +"Once seen, never forgotten!" + +"Damn you! Don't interrupt every time I try to get a word in!" + +"Sorry, old man! Shan't occur again!" + +Wally moved to the window, and stood looking out. He had had much more +to say on the subject of Derek Underhill, but Freddie's interruptions +had put it out of his head, and he felt irritated and baffled. + +"Well, all I can say is," he remarked savagely, "that, if you have +come over here as an ambassador to try and effect a reconciliation +between Jill and Underhill, I hope to God you'll never find her." + +Freddie emitted a weak cough, like a very far-off asthmatic old sheep. +He was finding Wally more overpowering every moment. He had rather +forgotten the dear old days of his childhood, but this conversation +was beginning to refresh his memory: and he was realizing more vividly +with every moment that passed how very Wallyish Wally was--how +extraordinarily like the Wally who had dominated his growing intellect +when they were both in Eton suits. Freddie in those days had been all +for peace, and he was all for peace now. He made his next observation +diffidently. + +"I _have_ found her!" + +Wally spun round. + +"What!" + +"When I say that, I don't absolutely mean I've seen her. I mean I know +where she is. That's what I came round to see you about. Felt I must +talk it over, you know. The situation seems to me dashed rotten and +not a little thick. The fact is, old man, she's gone on the stage. In +the chorus, you know. And, I mean to say, well, if you follow what I'm +driving at, what, what?" + +"In the chorus?" + +"In the chorus!" + +"How do you know?" + +Freddie groped for his eyeglass, which had fallen again. He regarded +it a trifle sternly. He was fond of the little chap, but it was always +doing that sort of thing. The whole trouble was that, if you wanted to +keep it in its place, you simply couldn't register any sort of emotion +with the good old features: and, when you were chatting with a fellow +like Wally Mason, you had to be registering something all the time. + +"Well, that was a bit of luck, as a matter of fact. When I first got +here, you know, it seemed to me the only thing to do was to round up a +merry old detective and put the matter in his hands, like they do in +stories. _You_ know. Ring at the bell. 'And this, if I mistake not, +Watson, is my client now.' And then in breezes client and spills the +plot. I found a sleuth in the classified telephone directory, and +toddled round. Rummy chaps, detectives! Ever met any? I always thought +they were lean, hatchet-faced Johnnies with inscrutable smiles. This +one looked just like my old Uncle Ted, the one who died of apoplexy. +Jovial, puffy-faced bird, who kept bobbing up behind a fat cigar. Have +you ever noticed what whacking big cigars these fellows over here +smoke? Rummy country, America. You ought to have seen the way this +blighter could shift his cigar right across his face with moving his +jaw-muscles. Like a flash! Most remarkable thing you ever saw, I give +you my honest word! He...." + +"Couldn't you keep your Impressions of America for the book you're +going to write, and come to the point?" said Wally rudely. + +"Sorry, old chap," said Freddie meekly. "Glad you reminded me. +Well.... Oh, yes. We had got as far as the jovial old human +bloodhound, hadn't we? Well, I put the matter before this chappie. +Told him I wanted to find a girl, showed him a photograph, and so +forth. I say," said Freddie, wandering off once more into speculation, +"why is it that coves like that always talk of a girl as 'the little +lady'? This chap kept saying 'We'll find the little lady for you!' Oh, +well, that's rather off the rails, isn't it? It just floated across my +mind and I thought I'd mention it. Well, this blighter presumably +nosed about and made enquiries for a couple of days, but didn't effect +anything that you might call substantial. I'm not blaming him, mind +you. I shouldn't care to have a job like that myself. I mean to say, +when you come to think of what a frightful number of girls there are +in this place, to have to ... well, as I say, he did his best but +didn't click; and then this evening, just before I came here, I met a +girl I had known in England--she was in a show over there--a girl +called Nelly Bryant...." + +"Nelly Bryant? I know her." + +"Yes? Fancy that! She was in a thing called 'Follow the Girl' in +London. Did you see it by any chance? Topping show! There was one +scene where the...." + +"Get on! Get on! I wrote it." + +"You wrote it?" Freddie beamed simple-hearted admiration. "My dear old +chap, I congratulate you! One of the ripest and most all-wool musical +comedies I've ever seen. I went twenty-four times. Rummy I don't +remember spotting that you wrote it. I suppose one never looks at the +names on the programme. Yes, I went twenty-four times The first time I +went was with a couple of chappies from...." + +"Listen, Freddie!" said Wally feverishly. "On some other occasion I +should dearly love to hear the story of your life, but just now...." + +"Absolutely, old man. You're perfectly right. Well, to cut a long +story short, Nelly Bryant told me that she and Jill were rehearsing +with a piece called 'The Rose of America.'" + +"'The Rose of America!'" + +"I think that was the name of it." + +"That's Ike Goble's show. He called me up on the phone about it half +an hour ago. I promised to go and see a rehearsal of it to-morrow or +the day after. And Jill's in that?" + +"Yes. How about it? I mean, I don't know much about this sort of +thing, but do you think it's the sort of thing Jill ought to be +doing?" + +Wally was moving restlessly about the room. Freddie's news had +disquieted him. Mr. Goble had a reputation. + +"I know a lot about it," he replied, "and it certainly isn't." He +scowled at the carpet. "Oh, damn everybody!" + +Freddie paused to allow him to proceed, if such should be his wish, +but Wally had apparently said his say. Freddie went on to point out an +aspect of the matter which was troubling him greatly. + +"I'm sure poor old Derek wouldn't like her being in the chorus!" + +Wally started so violently that for a moment Freddie was uneasy. + +"I mean Underhill," he corrected himself hastily. + +"Freddie," said Wally, "you're an awfully good chap, but I wish you +would exit rapidly now! Thanks for coming and telling me, very good of +you. This way out!" + +"But, old man...!" + +"Now what?" + +"I thought we were going to discuss this binge and decide what to do +and all that sort of thing." + +"Some other time. I want to think about it." + +"Oh, you will think about it?" + +"Yes, I'll think about it." + +"Topping! You see, you're a brainy sort of fellow, and you'll probably +hit something." + +"I probably shall, if you don't go." + +"Eh? Oh, ah, yes!" Freddie struggled into his coat. More than ever did +the adult Wally remind him of the dangerous stripling of years gone +by. "Well, cheerio!" + +"Same to you!" + +"You'll let me know if you scare up some devilish fruity wheeze, won't +you? I'm at the Biltmore." + +"Very good place to be. Go there now." + +"Right ho! Well, toodle-oo!" + +"The elevator is at the foot of the stairs," said Wally. "You press +the bell and up it comes. You hop in and down you go! It's a great +invention! Good night!" + +"Oh, I say. One moment...." + +"Good _night_!" said Wally. + +He closed the door, and ran down the passage. + +"Jill!" he called. He opened the bedroom window and stepped out. +"Jill!" + +There was no reply. + +"Jill!" called Wally once again, but again there was no answer. + +Wally walked to the parapet, and looked over. Below him the vastness +of the city stretched itself in a great triangle, its apex the +harbour, its sides the dull silver of the East and Hudson Rivers. +Directly before him, crowned with its white lantern, the Metropolitan +Tower reared its graceful height to the stars. And all around, in the +windows of the tall buildings that looked from this bastion on which +he stood almost squat, a million lights stared up at him, the +unsleeping eyes of New York. It was a scene of which Wally, always +sensitive to beauty, never tired: but to-night it had lost its appeal. +A pleasant breeze from the Jersey shore greeted him with a quickening +whisper of springtime and romance, but it did not lift the heaviness +of his heart. He felt depressed and apprehensive. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +MR. GOBLE MAKES THE BIG NOISE + +I + + +Spring, whose coming the breeze had heralded to Wally as he smoked +upon the roof, floated graciously upon New York two mornings later. +The city awoke to a day of blue and gold and to a sense of hard times +over and good times to come. In his apartment on Park Avenue, Mr Isaac +Goble, sniffing the gentle air from the window of his breakfast-room, +returned to his meal and his _Morning Telegraph_ with a resolve to +walk to the theatre for rehearsal: a resolve which had also come to +Jill and Nelly Bryant, eating stewed prunes in their boarding-house in +the Forties. On the summit of his sky-scraper, Wally Mason, performing +Swedish exercises to the delectation of various clerks and +stenographers in the upper windows of neighbouring buildings, felt +young and vigorous and optimistic, and went in to his shower-bath +thinking of Jill. And it was of Jill, too, that young Pilkington +thought, as he propped his long form up against the pillows and sipped +his morning cup of tea. For the first time in several days a certain +moodiness which had affected Otis Pilkington left him, and he dreamed +happy day-dreams. + +The gaiety of Otis was not, however, entirely or even primarily due to +the improvement in the weather. It had its source in a conversation +which had taken place between himself and Jill's Uncle Chris on the +previous night. Exactly how it had come about, Mr. Pilkington was not +entirely clear, but, somehow, before he was fully aware of what he was +saying, he had begun to pour into Major Selby's sympathetic ears the +story of his romance. Encouraged by the other's kindly receptiveness, +he had told him all--his love for Jill, his hopes that some day it +might be returned, the difficulties complicating the situation owing +to the known prejudices of Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim concerning girls +who formed the personnel of musical comedy ensembles. To all these +outpourings Major Selby had listened with keen attention, and finally +had made one of those luminous suggestions, so simple yet so shrewd, +which emanate only from your man of the world. It was Jill's girlish +ambition, it seemed from Major Selby's statement, to become a force in +the motion-picture world. The movies were her objective. + +What, he broke off to ask, did Pilkington think of the idea? + +Pilkington thought the idea splendid. Miss Mariner, with her charm and +looks, would be wonderful in the movies. + +There was, said Uncle Chris, a future for the girl in the movies. + +Mr. Pilkington agreed cordially. A great future indeed. + +"Observe," proceeded Uncle Chris, gathering speed and expanding his +chest as he spread his legs before the fire, "how it would simplify +the whole matter if Jill were to become a motion-picture artist and +win fame and wealth in her profession. You go to your excellent aunt +and announce that you are engaged to be married to Jill Mariner. There +is a momentary pause. 'Not _the_ Jill Mariner?' falters Mrs. Peagrim. +'Yes, the famous Miss Mariner!' you reply. Well, I ask you, my boy, +can you see her making any objection? Such a thing would be absurd. +No, I can see no flaw in the project whatsoever." Here Uncle Chris, as +he had pictured Mrs. Peagrim doing, paused for a moment. "Of course, +there would be the preliminaries." + +"The preliminaries?" + +Uncle Chris' voice became a melodious coo. He beamed upon Mr. +Pilkington. + +"Well, think for yourself, my boy! These things cannot be done without +money. I do not propose to allow my niece to waste her time and her +energy in the rank and file of the profession, waiting years for a +chance that might never come. There is plenty of room at the top, and +that, in the motion-picture profession, is the place to start. If Jill +is to become a motion-picture artist, a special company must be formed +to promote her. She must be made a feature, a star, from the +beginning. Whether," said Uncle Chris, smoothing the crease of his +trousers, "you would wish to take shares in the company yourself...." + +"Oo...!" + +"... is a matter," proceeded Uncle Chris, ignoring the interruption, +"for you yourself to decide. Possibly you have other claims on your +purse. Possibly this musical play of yours has taken all the cash you +are prepared to lock up. Possibly you may consider the venture too +speculative. Possibly ... there are a hundred reasons why you may not +wish to join us. But I know a dozen men--I can go down Wall Street +to-morrow and pick out twenty men--who will be glad to advance the +necessary capital. I can assure you that I personally shall not +hesitate to risk--if one can call it risking--any loose cash which I +may have lying idle at my banker's." + +He rattled the loose cash which he had lying idle in his +trouser-pocket--fifteen cents in all--and stopped to flick a piece of +fluff off his coat-sleeve. Mr. Pilkington was thus enabled to insert a +word. + +"How much would you want?" he enquired. + +"That," said Uncle Chris meditatively, "is a little hard to say. I +should have to look into the matter more closely in order to give you +the exact figures. But let us say for the sake of argument that you +put up--what shall we say?--a hundred thousand? fifty thousand? ... +no, we will be conservative. Perhaps you had better not begin with +more than ten thousand. You can always buy more shares later. I don't +suppose I shall begin with more than ten thousand myself." + +"I could manage ten thousand all right." + +"Excellent. We make progress, we make progress. Very well, then. I go +to my Wall Street friends and tell them about the scheme, and say +'Here is ten thousand dollars! What is your contribution?' It puts the +affair on a business-like basis, you understand. Then we really get to +work. But use your own judgment, my boy, you know. Use your own +judgment. I would not think of persuading you to take such a step, if +you felt at all doubtful. Think it over. Sleep on it. And, whatever +you decide to do, on no account say a word about it to Jill. It would +be cruel to raise her hopes until we are certain that we are in a +position to enable her to realize them. And, of course, not a word to +Mrs. Peagrim." + +"Of course." + +"Very well, then, my boy," said Uncle Chris affably. "I will leave you +to turn the whole thing over in your mind. Act entirely as you think +best. How is your insomnia, by the way? Did you try Nervino? Capital! +There's nothing like it. It did wonders for _me_! Good night, good +night!" + +Otis Pilkington had been turning the thing over in his mind, with an +interval for sleep, ever since. And the more he thought of it, the +better the scheme appeared to him. He winced a little at the thought +of the ten thousand dollars, for he came of prudent stock and had been +brought up in habits of parsimony, but, after all, he reflected, the +money would be merely a loan. Once the company found its feet, it +would be returned to him a hundred-fold. And there was no doubt that +this would put a completely different aspect on his wooing of Jill, as +far as Aunt Olive was concerned. Why, a cousin of his--young Brewster +Philmore--had married a movie-star only two years ago, and nobody had +made the slightest objection. Brewster was to be seen with his bride +frequently beneath Mrs. Peagrim's roof. Against the higher strata of +Bohemia Mrs. Peagrim had no prejudice at all. Quite the reverse, in +fact. She liked the society of those whose names were often in the +papers and much in the public mouth. It seemed to Otis Pilkington, in +short, that Love had found a way. He sipped his tea with relish, and +when the Japanese valet brought in the toast all burned on one side, +chided him with a gentle sweetness which, one may hope, touched the +latter's Oriental heart and inspired him with a desire to serve his +best of employers more efficiently. + +At half-past ten, Otis Pilkington removed his dressing-gown and began +to put on his clothes to visit the theatre. There was a rehearsal-call +for the whole company at eleven. As he dressed, his mood was as sunny +as the day itself. + +And the day, by half-past ten, was as sunny as ever Spring day had +been in a country where Spring comes early and does its best from the +very start. The blue sky beamed down on a happy city. To and fro the +citizenry bustled, aglow with the perfection of the weather. +Everywhere was gaiety and good cheer, except on the stage of the +Gotham Theatre, where an early rehearsal, preliminary to the main +event, had been called by Johnson Miller in order to iron some of the +kinks out of the "My Heart and I" number, which, with the assistance +of the male chorus, the leading lady was to render in Act One. + +On the stage of the Gotham gloom reigned--literally, because the stage +was wide and deep and was illumined only by a single electric light; +and figuratively, because things were going even worse than usual with +the "My Heart and I" number, and Johnson Miller, always of an +emotional and easily stirred temperament, had been goaded by the +incompetence of his male chorus to a state of frenzy. At about the +moment when Otis Pilkington shed his flowered dressing-gown and +reached for his trousers (the heather-mixture with the red twill), +Johnson Miller was pacing the gangway between the orchestra pit and +the first row of the orchestra chairs, waving one hand and clutching +his white locks with the other, his voice raised the while in agonized +protest. + +"Gentlemen, you silly idiots," complained Mr. Miller loudly, "you've +had three weeks to get these movements into your thick heads, and you +haven't done a damn thing right! You're all over the place! You don't +seem able to turn without tumbling over each other like a lot of +Keystone Kops! What's the matter with you? You're not doing the +movements I showed you; you're doing some you have invented +yourselves, and they are rotten! I've no doubt you think you can +arrange a number better than I can, but Mr. Goble engaged me to be the +director, so kindly do exactly as I tell you. Don't try to use your +own intelligence, because you haven't any. I'm not blaming you for it. +It wasn't your fault that your nurses dropped you on your heads when +you were babies. But it handicaps you when you try to think." + +Of the seven gentlemanly members of the male ensemble present, six +looked wounded by this tirade. They had the air of good men wrongfully +accused. They appeared to be silently calling on Heaven to see justice +done between Mr. Miller and themselves. The seventh, a long-legged +young man in faultlessly fitting tweeds of English cut, seemed, on the +other hand, not so much hurt as embarrassed. It was this youth who now +stepped down to the darkened footlights and spoke in a remorseful and +conscience-stricken manner. + +"I say!" + +Mr. Miller, that martyr to deafness, did not hear the pathetic bleat. +He had swung off at right angles and was marching in an overwrought +way up the central aisle leading to the back of the house, his +india-rubber form moving in convulsive jerks. Only when he had turned +and retraced his steps did he perceive the speaker and prepare to take +his share in the conversation. + +"What?" he shouted. "Can't hear you!" + +"I say, you know, it's my fault, really." + +"What?" + +"I mean to say, you know...." + +"What? Speak up, can't you?" + +Mr. Saltzburg, who had been seated at the piano, absently playing a +melody from his unproduced musical comedy, awoke to the fact that the +services of an interpreter were needed. He obligingly left the +music-stool and crept, crab-like, along the ledge of the stage-box. He +placed his arm about Mr. Miller's shoulders and his lips to Mr. +Miller's left ear, and drew a deep breath. + +"He says it is his fault!" + +Mr. Miller nodded adhesion to this admirable sentiment. + +"I know they're not worth their salt!" he replied. + +Mr. Saltzburg patiently took in a fresh stock of breath. + +"This young man says it is his fault that the movement went wrong!" + +"Tell him I only signed on this morning, laddie," urged the tweed-clad +young man. + +"He only joined the company this morning!" + +This puzzled Mr. Miller. + +"How do you mean, warning?" he asked. + +Mr. Saltzburg, purple in the face, made a last effort. + +"This young man is new," he bellowed carefully, keeping to words of +one syllable. "He does not yet know the steps. He says this is his +first day here, so he does not yet know the steps. When he has been +here some more time he will know the steps. But now he does not know +the steps." + +"What he means," explained the young man in tweeds helpfully, "is that +I don't know the steps." + +"He does not know the steps!" roared Mr. Saltzburg. + +"I know he doesn't know the steps," said Mr. Miller. "Why doesn't he +know the steps? He's had long enough to learn them." + +"He is new!" + +"Hugh?" + +"New!" + +"Oh, new?" + +"Yes, new!" + +"Why the devil is he new?" cried Mr. Miller, awaking suddenly to the +truth and filled with a sense of outrage. "Why didn't he join with the +rest of the company? How can I put on chorus numbers if I am saddled +every day with new people to teach? Who engaged him?" + +"Who engaged you?" enquired Mr. Saltzburg of the culprit. + +"Mr. Pilkington." + +"Mr. Pilkington," shouted Mr. Saltzburg. + +"When?" + +"When?" + +"Last night." + +"Last night." + +Mr. Miller waved his hands in a gesture of divine despair, spun round, +darted up the aisle, turned, and bounded back. + +"What can I do?" he wailed. "My hands are tied! I am hampered! I am +handicapped! We open in two weeks and every day I find somebody new in +the company to upset everything I have done. I shall go to Mr. Goble +and ask to be released from my contract. I shall.... Come along, come +along, come along now!" he broke off suddenly. "Why are we wasting +time? The whole number once more. The whole number once more from the +beginning!" + +The young man tottered back to his gentlemanly colleagues, running a +finger in an agitated manner round the inside of his collar. He was +not used to this sort of thing. In a large experience of amateur +theatricals he had never encountered anything like it. In the +breathing-space afforded by the singing of the first verse and refrain +by the lady who played the heroine of "The Rose of America," he found +time to make an enquiry of the artist on his right. + +"I say! Is he always like this?" + +"Who? Johnny?" + +"The sportsman with the hair that turned white in a single night. The +barker on the sky-line. Does he often get the wind up like this?" + +His colleague smiled tolerantly. + +"Why, that's nothing!" he replied. "Wait till you see him really cut +loose! That was just a gentle whisper!" + +"My God!" said the newcomer, staring into a bleak future. + +The leading lady came to the end of her refrain, and the gentlemen of the +ensemble, who had been hanging about up-stage, began to curvet nimbly down +towards her in a double line; the new arrival, with an eye on his nearest +neighbour, endeavouring to curvet as nimbly as the others. A clapping of +hands from the dark auditorium indicated--inappropriately--that he had +failed to do so. Mr. Miller could be perceived--dimly--with all his +fingers entwined in his hair. + +"Clear the stage!" yelled Mr. Miller. "Not you!" he shouted, as the +latest addition to the company began to drift off with the others. +"You stay!" + +"Me?" + +"Yes, you. I shall have to teach you the steps by yourself, or we +shall get nowhere. Go up-stage. Start the music again, Mr. Saltzburg. +Now, when the refrain begins, come down. Gracefully! Gracefully!" + +The young man, pink but determined, began to come down gracefully. And +it was while he was thus occupied that Jill and Nelly Bryant, entering +the wings which were beginning to fill up as eleven o'clock +approached, saw him. + +"Whoever is that?" said Nelly. + +"New man," replied one of the chorus gentlemen. "Came this morning." + +Nelly turned to Jill. + +"He looks just like Mr. Rooke!" she exclaimed. + +"He _is_ Mr. Rooke!" said Jill. + +"He can't be!" + +"He _is_!" + +"But what is he doing here?" + +Jill bit her lip. + +"That's just what I'm going to ask him myself," she said. + + +II + +The opportunity for a private conversation with Freddie did not occur +immediately. For ten minutes he remained alone on the stage, absorbing +abusive tuition from Mr. Miller: and at the end of that period a +further ten minutes was occupied with the rehearsing of the number +with the leading lady and the rest of the male chorus. When, finally, +a roar from the back of the auditorium announced the arrival of Mr. +Goble and at the same time indicated Mr. Goble's desire that the stage +should be cleared and the rehearsal proper begin, a wan smile of +recognition and a faint "What ho!" was all that Freddie was able to +bestow upon Jill, before, with the rest of the ensemble, they had to +go out and group themselves for the opening chorus. It was only when +this had been run through four times and the stage left vacant for two +of the principals to play a scene that Jill was able to draw the Last +of the Rookes aside in a dark corner and put him to the question. + +"Freddie, what are you doing here?" + +Freddie mopped his streaming brow. Johnson Miller's idea of an opening +chorus was always strenuous. On the present occasion, the ensemble +were supposed to be guests at a Long Island house-party, and Mr. +Miller's conception of the gathering suggested that he supposed +house-party guests on Long Island to consist exclusively of victims of +St. Vitus' dance. Freddie was feeling limp, battered, and exhausted: +and, from what he had gathered, the worst was yet to come. + +"Eh?" he said feebly. + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Oh, ah, yes! I see what you mean! I suppose you're surprised to find +me in New York, what?" + +"I'm not surprised to find you in New York. I knew you had come over. +But I am surprised to find you on the stage, being bullied by Mr. +Miller." + +"I say," said Freddie in an awed voice. "He's a bit of a nut, that +lad, what? He reminds me of the troops of Midian in the hymn. The +chappies who prowled and prowled around. I'll bet he's worn a groove +in the carpet. Like a jolly old tiger at the Zoo at feeding time. +Wouldn't be surprised at any moment to look down and find him biting a +piece out of my leg!" + +Jill seized his arm and shook it. + +"Don't _ramble_, Freddie! Tell me how you got here." + +"Oh, that was pretty simple. I had a letter of introduction to this +chappie Pilkington who's running this show, and, we having got +tolerably pally in the last few days, I went to him and asked him to +let me join the merry throng. I said I didn't want any money, and the +little bit of work I would do wouldn't make any difference, so he said +'Right ho!' or words to that effect, and here I am." + +"But why? You can't be doing this for fun, surely?" + +"Fun!" A pained expression came into Freddie's face. "My idea of fun +isn't anything in which jolly old Miller, the bird with the snowy +hair, is permitted to mix. Something tells me that that lad is going +to make it his life-work picking on me. No, I didn't do this for fun. +I had a talk with Wally Mason the night before last, and he seemed to +think that being in the chorus wasn't the sort of thing you ought to +be doing, so I thought it over and decided that I ought to join the +troupe too. Then I could always be on the spot, don't you know, if +there was any trouble. I mean to say, I'm not much of a chap and all +that sort of thing, but still I might come in handy one of these +times. Keep a fatherly eye on you, don't you know, and what not!" + +Jill was touched. "You're a dear, Freddie!" + +"I thought, don't you know, it would make poor old Derek a bit easier +in his mind." + +Jill froze. + +"I don't want to talk about Derek, Freddie, please." + +"Oh, I know what you must be feeling. Pretty sick, I'll bet, what? But +if you could see him now...." + +"I don't want to talk about him!" + +"He's pretty cut up, you know. Regrets bitterly and all that sort of +thing. He wants you to come back again." + +"I see! He sent you to fetch me?" + +"That was more or less the idea." + +"It's a shame that you had all the trouble. You can get messenger-boys +to go anywhere and do anything nowadays. Derek ought to have thought +of that." + +Freddie looked at her doubtfully. + +"You're spoofing, aren't you? I mean to say, you wouldn't have liked +that!" + +"I shouldn't have disliked it any more than his sending you." + +"Oh, but I wanted to pop over. Keen to see America and so forth." + +Jill looked past him at the gloomy stage. Her face was set, and her +eyes sombre. + +"Can't you understand, Freddie? You've known me a long time. I should +have thought that you would have found out by now that I have a +certain amount of pride. If Derek wanted me back, there was only one +thing for him to do--come over and find me himself." + +"Rummy! That's what Mason said, when I told him. You two don't realize +how dashed busy Derek is these days." + +"Busy!" + +Something in her face seemed to tell Freddie that he was not saying +the right thing, but he stumbled on. + +"You've no notion how busy he is. I mean to say, elections coming on +and so forth. He daren't stir from the metrop." + +"Of course I couldn't expect him to do anything that might interfere +with his career, could I?" + +"Absolutely not. I knew you would see it!" said Freddie, charmed at +her reasonableness. All rot, what you read about women being +unreasonable. "Then I take it it's all right, eh?" + +"All right?" + +"I mean you will toddle home with me at the earliest opp. and make +poor old Derek happy?" + +Jill laughed discordantly. + +"Poor old Derek!" she echoed. "He has been badly treated, hasn't he?" + +"Well, I wouldn't say that," said Freddie doubtfully. "You see, coming +down to it, the thing was more or less his fault, what?" + +"More or less!" + +"I mean to say...." + +"More or less!" + +Freddie glanced at her anxiously. He was not at all sure now that he +liked the way she was looking or the tone in which she spoke. He was +not a keenly observant young man, but there did begin at this point to +seep through to his brain-centres a suspicion that all was not well. + +"Let me pull myself together!" said Freddie warily to his immortal +soul. "I believe I'm getting the raspberry!" And there was silence for +a space. + +The complexity of life began to weigh upon Freddie. Life was like one +of those shots at squash which seem so simple till you go to knock the +cover off the ball, when the ball sort of edges away from you and you +miss it. Life, Freddie began to perceive, was apt to have a nasty +back-spin on it. He had never had any doubt when he had started, that +the only difficult part of this expedition to America would be the +finding of Jill. Once found, he had presumed that she would be +delighted to hear his good news and would joyfully accompany him home +on the next boat. It appeared now, however, that he had been too +sanguine. Optimist as he was, he had to admit that, as far as could be +ascertained with the naked eye, the jolly old binge might be said to +have sprung a leak. + +He proceeded to approach the matter from another angle. + +"I say!" + +"Yes?" + +"You do love old Derek, don't you? I mean to say, you know what I +mean, _love_ him and all that sort of rot?" + +"I don't know!" + +"You don't know! Oh, I say, come now! You must _know_! Pull up your +socks, old thing.... I mean, pull yourself together! You either love a +chappie or you don't." + +Jill smiled painfully. + +"How nice it would be if everything were as simple and straightforward +as that. Haven't you ever heard that the dividing line between love +and hate is just a thread? Poets have said so a great number of +times." + +"Oh, poets!" said Freddie, dismissing the genus with a wave of the +hand. He had been compelled to read Shakespeare and all that sort of +thing at school, but it had left him cold, and since growing to man's +estate he had rather handed the race of bards the mitten. He liked +Doss Chiderdoss' stuff in the _Sporting Times_, but beyond that he was +not much of a lad for poets. + +"Can't you understand a girl in my position not being able to make up +her mind whether she loves a man or despises him?" + +Freddie shook his head. + +"No," he said. "It sounds dashed silly to me!" + +"Then what's the good of talking?" cried Jill. "It only hurts." + +"But--won't you come back to England?" + +"No." + +"Oh, I say! Be a sport! Take a stab at it!" + +Jill laughed again--another of those grating laughs which afflicted +Freddie with a sense of foreboding and failure. Something had +undoubtedly gone wrong with the works. He began to fear that at some +point in the conversation--just where he could not say--he had been +less diplomatic than he might have been. + +"You speak as if you were inviting me to a garden-party! No, I won't +take a stab at it. You've a lot to learn about women, Freddie!" + +"Women _are_ rum!" conceded that perplexed ambassador. + +Jill began to move away. + +"Don't go!" urged Freddie. + +"Why not? What's the use of talking any more? Have you ever broken an +arm or a leg, Freddie?" + +"Yes," said Freddie, mystified. "As a matter of fact, my last year at +Oxford, playing soccer for the college in a friendly game, some +blighter barged into me and I came down on my wrist. But...." + +"It hurt?" + +"Like the deuce!" + +"And then it began to get better, I suppose. Well, used you to hit it, +and twist it, and prod it, or did you leave it alone to try and heal? +I won't talk any more about Derek! I simply won't! I'm all smashed up +inside, and I don't know if I'm ever going to get well again, but at +least I'm going to give myself a chance. I'm working as hard as ever I +can and I'm forcing myself not to think of him. I'm in a sling, +Freddie, like your wrist, and I don't want to be prodded. I hope we +shall see a lot of each other while you're over here--you always were +the greatest dear in the world--but you mustn't mention Derek again, +and you mustn't ask me to go home. If you avoid those subjects, we'll +be as happy as possible. And now I'm going to leave you to talk to +poor Nelly. She has been hovering round for the last ten minutes, +waiting for a chance to speak to you. She worships you, you know!" + +Freddie started violently. + +"Oh, I say! What rot!" + +Jill had gone, and he was still gaping after her, when Nelly Bryant +moved towards him--shyly, like a worshipper approaching a shrine. + +"Hello, Mr. Rooke!" said Nelly. + +"Hullo-ullo-ullo!" said Freddie. + +Nelly fixed her large eyes on his face. A fleeting impression passed +through Freddie's mind that she was looking unusually pretty this +morning: nor was the impression unjustified. Nelly was wearing for the +first time a Spring suit which was the outcome of hours of painful +selection among the wares of a dozen different stores, and the +knowledge that the suit was just right seemed to glow from her like an +inner light. She felt happy, and her happiness had lent an unwonted +colour to her face and a soft brightness to her eyes. + +"How nice it is, your being here!" + +Freddie waited for the inevitable question, the question with which +Jill had opened their conversation; but it did not come. He was +surprised, but relieved. He hated long explanations, and he was very +doubtful whether loyalty to Jill could allow him to give them to +Nelly. His reason for being where he was had to do so intimately with +Jill's most private affairs. A wave of gratitude to Nelly swept +through him when he realized that she was either incurious or else too +delicate-minded to show inquisitiveness. + +As a matter of fact, it was delicacy that kept Nelly silent. Seeing +Freddie here at the theatre, she had, as is not uncommon with fallible +mortals, put two and two together and made the answer four when it +was not four at all. She had been deceived by circumstantial evidence. +Jill, whom she had left in England wealthy and secure, she had met +again in New York penniless as the result of some Stock Exchange +cataclysm in which, she remembered with the vagueness with which one +recalls once-heard pieces of information, Freddie Rooke had been +involved. True, she seemed to recollect hearing that Freddie's losses +had been comparatively slight, but his presence in the chorus of "The +Rose of America" seemed to her proof that after all they must have +been devastating. She could think of no other reason except loss of +money which could have placed Freddie in the position in which she now +found him, so she accepted it; and, with the delicacy which was innate +in her and which a hard life had never blunted, decided, directly she +saw him, to make no allusion to the disaster. + +Such was Nelly's view of the matter, and sympathy gave to her manner a +kind of maternal gentleness which acted on Freddie, raw from his late +encounter with Mr. Johnson Miller and disturbed by Jill's attitude in +the matter of poor old Derek, like a healing balm. His emotions were +too chaotic for analysis, but one thing stood out clear from the +welter--the fact that he was glad to be with Nelly as he had never +been glad to be with a girl before, and found her soothing as he had +never supposed a girl could be soothing. + +They talked desultorily of unimportant things, and every minute found +Freddie more convinced that Nelly was not as other girls. He felt that +he must see more of her. + +"I say," he said. "When this binge is over ... when the rehearsal +finishes, you know, how about a bite to eat?" + +"I should love it. I generally go to the Automat." + +"The how-much? Never heard of it." + +"In Times Square. It's cheap, you know." + +"I was thinking of the Cosmopolis." + +"But that's so expensive." + +"Oh, I don't know. Much the same as any of the other places, isn't +it?" + +Nelly's manner became more motherly than ever. She bent forward and +touched his arm affectionately. + +"You haven't to keep up any front with me," she said gently. "I don't +care whether you're rich or poor or what. I mean, of course I'm +awfully sorry you've lost your money, but it makes it all the easier +for us to be real pals, don't you think so?" + +"Lost my money?" + +"Well, I know you wouldn't be here if you hadn't. I wasn't going to +say anything about it, but, when you talked of the Cosmopolis, I just +had to. You lost your money in the same thing Jill Mariner lost hers, +didn't you? I was sure you had, the moment I saw you here. Who cares? +Money isn't everything!" + +Astonishment kept Freddie silent for an instant: after that he +refrained from explanations of his own free will. He accepted the +situation and rejoiced in it. Like many other wealthy and modest young +men, he had always had a sneaking suspicion at the back of his mind +that any girl who was decently civil to him was so from mixed +motives--or, more likely, motives that were not even mixed. Well, dash +it, here was a girl who seemed to like him although under the +impression that he was broke to the wide. It was an intoxicating +experience. It made him feel a better chap. It fortified his +self-respect. + +"You know," he said, stammering a little, for he found a sudden +difficulty in controlling his voice. "You're a dashed good sort!" + +"I'm awfully glad you think so." + +There was a silence--as far, at least, as he and she were concerned. +In the outer world, beyond the piece of scenery under whose shelter +they stood, stirring things, loud and exciting things, seemed to be +happening. Some sort of an argument appeared to be in progress. The +rasping voice of Mr. Goble was making itself heard from the unseen +auditorium. These things they sensed vaguely, but they were too +occupied with each other to ascertain details. + +"What was the name of that place again?" asked Freddie. "The +what-ho-something?" + +"The Automat?" + +"That's the little chap! We'll go there, shall we?" + +"The food's quite good. You go and help yourself out of slot-machines, +you know." + +"My favourite indoor sport!" said Freddie with enthusiasm. "Hullo! +What's up? It sounds as if there were dirty work at the cross-roads!" + +The voice of the assistant stage-manager was calling, sharply excited, +agitation in every syllable. + +"All the gentlemen of the chorus on the stage, please! Mr. Goble wants +all the chorus-gentlemen on the stage!" + +"Well, cheerio for the present," said Freddie. "I suppose I'd better +look into this." + +He made his way on to the stage. + + +III + +There is an insidious something about the atmosphere of a rehearsal of +a musical play which saps the finer feelings of those connected with +it. Softened by the gentle beauty of the Spring weather, Mr. Goble had +come to the Gotham Theatre that morning in an excellent temper, firmly +intending to remain in an excellent temper all day. Five minutes of +"The Rose of America" had sent him back to the normal; and at ten +minutes past eleven he was chewing his cigar and glowering at the +stage with all the sweetness gone from his soul. When Wally Mason +arrived at a quarter past eleven and dropped into the seat beside him, +the manager received him with a grunt and even omitted to offer him a +cigar. And when a New York theatrical manager does that, it is a +certain sign that his mood is of the worst. + +One may find excuses for Mr. Goble. "The Rose of America" would have +tested the equanimity of a far more amiable man: and on Mr. Goble what +Otis Pilkington had called its delicate whimsicality jarred +profoundly. He had been brought up in the lower-browed school of +musical comedy, where you shelved the plot after the opening number +and filled in the rest of the evening by bringing on the girls in a +variety of exotic costumes, with some good vaudeville specialists to +get the laughs. Mr. Goble's idea of a musical piece was something +embracing trained seals, acrobats, and two or three teams of skilled +buck-and-wing dancers, with nothing on the stage, from a tree to a +lamp-shade, which could not suddenly turn into a chorus-girl. The +austere legitimateness of "The Rose of America" gave him a pain in the +neck. He loathed plot, and "The Rose of America" was all plot. + +Why, then, had the earthy Mr. Goble consented to associate himself +with the production of this intellectual play? Because he was subject, +like all other New York managers, to intermittent spasms of the idea +that the time is ripe for a revival of comic opera. Sometimes, +lunching in his favourite corner in the Cosmopolis grill-room, he +would lean across the table and beg some other manager to take it from +him that the time was ripe for a revival of comic opera--or, more +cautiously, that pretty soon the time was going to be ripe for a +revival of comic opera. And the other manager would nod his head and +thoughtfully stroke his three chins and admit that, sure as God made +little apples, the time was darned soon going to be ripe for a revival +of comic opera. And then they would stuff themselves with rich food +and light big cigars and brood meditatively. + +With most managers these spasms, which may be compared to twinges of +conscience, pass as quickly as they come, and they go back to coining +money with rowdy musical comedies, quite contented. But Otis +Pilkington, happening along with the script of "The Rose of America" +and the cash to back it, had caught Mr. Goble in the full grip of an +attack, and all the arrangements had been made before the latter +emerged from the influence. He now regretted his rash act. + +"Say, listen," he said to Wally, his gaze on the stage, his words +proceeding from the corner of his mouth, "you've got to stick around +with this show after it opens on the road. We'll talk terms later. But +we've got to get it right, don't care what it costs. See?" + +"You think it will need fixing?" + +Mr. Goble scowled at the unconscious artists, who were now going +through a particularly arid stretch of dialogue. + +"Fixing! It's all wrong! It don't add up right! You'll have to rewrite +it from end to end." + +"Well, I've got some idea about it. I saw it played by amateurs last +summer, you know. I could make a quick job of it, if you want me to. +But will the author stand for it?" + +Mr. Goble allowed a belligerent eye to stray from the stage, and +twisted it round in Wally's direction. + +"Say, listen! He'll stand for anything I say. I'm the little guy that +gives orders round here. I'm the big noise!" + +As if in support of this statement he suddenly emitted a terrific +bellow. The effect was magical. The refined and painstaking artists on +the stage stopped as if they had been shot. The assistant +stage-director bent sedulously over the footlights, which had now been +turned up, shading his eyes with the prompt script. + +"Take that over again!" shouted Mr. Goble. "Yes, that speech about +life being like a water-melon. It don't sound to me as though it meant +anything." He cocked his cigar at an angle, and listened fiercely. He +clapped his hands. The action stopped again. "Cut it!" said Mr. Goble +tersely. + +"Cut the speech, Mr. Goble?" queried the obsequious assistant +stage-director. + +"Yes. Cut it. It don't mean nothing!" + +Down the aisle, springing from a seat at the back, shimmered Mr. +Pilkington, wounded to the quick. + +"Mr. Goble! Mr. Goble!" + +"Well?" + +"That is the best epigram in the play." + +"The best what?" + +"Epigram. The best epigram in the play." + +Mr. Goble knocked the ash off his cigar. "The public don't want +epigrams. The public don't like epigrams. I've been in the show +business fifteen years, and I'm telling you! Epigrams give them a pain +under the vest. All right, get on." + +Mr. Pilkington fluttered agitatedly. This was his first experience of +Mr. Goble in the capacity of stage-director. It was the latter's +custom to leave the early rehearsals of the pieces with which he was +connected to a subordinate producer, who did what Mr. Goble called the +breaking-in. This accomplished, he would appear in person, undo most +of the other's work, make cuts, tell the actors how to read their +lines, and generally enjoy himself. Producing plays was Mr. Goble's +hobby. He imagined himself to have a genius in that direction, and it +was useless to try to induce him to alter any decision to which he +might have come. He regarded those who did not agree with him with the +lofty contempt of an Eastern despot. + +Of this Mr. Pilkington was not yet aware. + +"But, Mr. Goble ...!" + +The potentate swung irritably round on him. + +"What is it? What _is_ it? Can't you see I'm busy?" + +"That epigram...." + +"It's out!" + +"But ...!" + +"It's out!" + +"Surely," protested Mr. Pilkington almost tearfully, "I have a +voice...." + +"Sure you have a voice," retorted Mr. Goble, "and you can use it any +old place you want, except in my theatre. Have all the voice you like! +Go round the corner and talk to yourself! Sing in your bath! But don't +come using it here, because I'm the little guy that does all the +talking in this theatre! That fellow makes me tired," he added +complainingly to Wally, as Mr. Pilkington withdrew like a foiled +python. "He don't know nothing about the show business, and he keeps +butting in and making fool suggestions. He ought to be darned glad +he's getting his first play produced and not trying to teach me how to +direct it." He clapped his hands imperiously. The assistant +stage-manager bent over the footlights. "What was that that guy said? +Lord Finchley's last speech. Take it again." + +The gentleman who was playing the part of Lord Finchley, an English +character actor who specialized in London "nuts," raised his eyebrows, +annoyed. Like Mr. Pilkington, he had never before come into contact +with Mr. Goble as stage-director, and, accustomed to the suaver +methods of his native land, he was finding the experience trying. He +had not yet recovered from the agony of having that water-melon line +cut out of his part. It was the only good line, he considered, that he +had. Any line that is cut out of an actor's part is always the only +good line he has. + +"The speech about Omar Khayyám?" he enquired with suppressed +irritation. + +"I thought that was the way you said it. All wrong! It's Omar _of_ +Khayyám." + +"I think you will find that Omar Khayyám is the--ah--generally +accepted version of the poet's name," said the portrayer of Lord +Finchley adding beneath his breath. "You silly ass!" + +"You say Omar _of_ Khayyám," bellowed Mr. Goble. "Who's running this +show, anyway?" + +"Just as you please." + +Mr. Goble turned to Wally. + +"These actors...." he began, when Mr. Pilkington appeared again at his +elbow. + +"Mr. Goble! Mr. Goble!" + +"What is it _now_?" + +"Omar Khayyám was a Persian poet. His _name_ was Khayyám." + +"That wasn't the way _I_ heard it," said Mr. Goble doggedly. "Did +_you_?" he enquired of Wally. "I thought he was born at Khayyám." + +"You're probably quite right," said Wally, "but, if so, everybody else +has been wrong for a good many years. It's usually supposed that the +gentleman's name was Omar Khayyám. Khayyám, Omar J. Born A.D. 1050, +educated privately and at Bagdad University. Represented Persia in the +Olympic Games of 1072, winning the sitting high-jump and the +egg-and-spoon race. The Khayyáms were quite a well-known family in +Bagdad, and there was a lot of talk when Omar, who was Mrs. Khayyam's +pet son, took to drink and writing poetry. They had had it all fixed +for him to go into his father's date business." + +Mr. Goble was impressed. He had a respect for Wally's opinion, for +Wally had written "Follow the Girl" and look what a knock-out that had +been. He stopped the rehearsal again. + +"Go back to that Khayyám speech!" he said interrupting Lord Finchley +in mid-sentence. + +The actor whispered a hearty English oath beneath his breath. He had +been up late last night, and, in spite of the fair weather, he was +feeling a trifle on edge. + +"' In the words of Omar of Khayyám'...." + +Mr. Goble clapped his hands. + +"Cut that 'of,'" he said. "The show's too long, anyway." + +And, having handled a delicate matter in masterly fashion, he leaned +back in his chair and chewed the end off another cigar. + +For some minutes after this the rehearsal proceeded smoothly. If Mr. +Goble did not enjoy the play, at least he made no criticisms except to +Wally. To him he enlarged from time to time on the pain which "The +Rose of America" caused him. + +"How I ever came to put on junk like this beats me," confessed Mr. +Goble frankly. + +"You probably saw that there was a good idea at the back of it," +suggested Wally. "There is, you know. Properly handled, it's an idea +that could be made into a success." + +"What would you do with it?" + +"Oh, a lot of things," said Wally warily. In his younger and callower +days he had sometimes been rash enough to scatter views on the +reconstruction of plays broadcast, to find them gratefully absorbed +and acted upon and treated as a friendly gift. His affection for Mr. +Goble was not so overpowering as to cause him to give him ideas for +nothing now. + +"Any time you want me to fix it for you, I'll come along. About one +and a half per cent of the gross would meet the case, I think." + +Mr. Goble faced him, registering the utmost astonishment and horror. + +"One and a half per cent for fixing a show like this? Why, darn it, +there's hardly anything to do to it! It's--it's _in_!" + +"You called it junk just now." + +"Well, all I meant was that it wasn't the sort of thing I cared for +myself. The public will eat it. Take it from me, the time is just +about ripe for a revival of comic opera." + +"This one will want all the reviving you can give it. Better use a +pulmotor." + +"But that long boob, that Pilkington ... he would never stand for my +handing you one and a half per cent." + +"I thought _you_ were the little guy who arranged things round here." + +"But he's got money in the show." + +"Well, if he wants to get any out, he'd better call in somebody to +rewrite it. You don't have to engage me if you don't want to. But I +know I could make a good job of it. There's just one little twist the +thing needs and you would have quite a different piece." + +"What's that?" enquired Mr. Goble casually. + +"Oh, just a little ... what shall I say? ... a little touch of +what-d'you-call-it and a bit of thingummy. You know the sort of thing! +That's all it wants." + +Mr. Goble gnawed his cigar, baffled. + +"You think so, eh?" he said at length. + +"And perhaps a suspicion of _je-ne-sais-quoi_," added Wally. + +Mr. Goble worried his cigar, and essayed a new form of attack. + +"You've done a lot of work for me," he said. "Good work!" + +"Glad you liked it," said Wally. + +"You're a good kid. I like having you around. I was half thinking of +giving you a show to do this Fall. Corking book. French farce. Ran +two years in Paris. But what's the good, if you want the earth?" + +"Always useful, the earth. Good thing to have." + +"See here, if you'll fix up this show for half of one per cent, I'll +give you the other to do." + +"You shouldn't slur your words so. For a moment I thought you said +'half of one per cent. One and a half of course you really said. + +"If you won't take half, you don't get the other." + +"All right," said Wally. "There are lots of other managers in New +York. Haven't you seen them popping about? Rich, enterprising men, and +all of them love me like a son." + +"Make it one per cent," said Mr. Goble, "and I'll see if I can fix it +with Pilkington." + +"One and a half." + +"Oh, damn it, one and a half, then," said Mr. Goble morosely. "What's +the good of splitting straws?" + +"Forgotten Sports of the Past--Splitting the Straw. All right. If you +drop me a line to that effect, legibly signed with your name, I'll +wear it next my heart. I shall have to go now. I have a date. +Good-bye. Glad everything's settled and everybody's happy." + +For some moments after Wally had left, Mr. Goble sat hunched up in his +orchestra-chair, smoking sullenly, his mood less sunny than ever. +Living in a little world of sycophants, he was galled by the off-hand +way in which Wally always treated him. There was something in the +latter's manner which seemed to him sometimes almost contemptuous. He +regretted the necessity of having to employ him. There was, of course, +no real necessity why he should have employed Wally. New York was full +of librettists who would have done the work equally well for half the +money, but, like most managers, Mr. Goble had the mental processes of +a sheep. "Follow the Girl" was the last outstanding musical success in +New York theatrical history: Wally had written it, therefore nobody +but Wally was capable of re-writing "The Rose of America." The thing +had for Mr. Goble the inevitability of Fate. Except for deciding +mentally that Wally had swelled head, there was nothing to be done. + +Having decided that Wally had swelled head, and not feeling much +better, Mr. Goble concentrated his attention on the stage. A good deal +of action had taken place there during the recently concluded +business talk, and the unfortunate Lord Finchley was back again, +playing another of his scenes. Mr. Goble glared at Lord Finchley. He +did not like him, and he did not like the way he was speaking his +lines. + +The part of Lord Finchley was a non-singing rôle. It was a type part. +Otis Pilkington had gone to the straight stage to find an artist, and +had secured the not uncelebrated Wentworth Hill, who had come over +from London to play in an English comedy which had just closed. The +newspapers had called the play thin, but had thought that Wentworth +Hill was an excellent comedian. Mr. Hill thought so, too, and it was +consequently a shock to his already disordered nerves when a bellow +from the auditorium stopped him in the middle of one of his speeches +and a rasping voice informed him that he was doing it all wrong. + +"I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Hill, quietly but dangerously, stepping +to the footlights. + +"All wrong!" repeated Mr. Goble. + +"Really?" Wentworth Hill, who a few years earlier had spent several +terms at Oxford University before being sent down for aggravated +disorderliness, had brought little away with him from that seat of +learning except the Oxford manner. This he now employed upon Mr. Goble +with an icy severity which put the last touch to the manager's +fermenting state of mind. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me +just how you think that part should be played?" + +Mr. Goble marched down the aisle. + +"Speak out to the audience," he said, stationing himself by the +orchestra pit. "You're turning your head away all the darned time." + +"I may be wrong," said Mr. Hill, "but I have played a certain amount, +don't you know, in pretty good companies, and I was always under the +impression that one should address one's remarks to the person one was +speaking to, not deliver a recitation to the gallery. I was taught +that that was the legitimate method." + +The word touched off all the dynamite in Mr. Goble. Of all things in +the theatre he detested most the "legitimate method." His idea of +producing was to instruct the cast to come down to the footlights and +hand it to 'em. These people who looked up-stage and talked to the +audience through the backs of their necks revolted him. + +"Legitimate! That's a hell of a thing to be! Where do you get that +legitimate stuff? You aren't playing Ibsen!" + +"Nor am I playing a knockabout vaudeville sketch." + +"Don't talk back at me!" + +"Kindly don't shout at _me_! Your voice is unpleasant enough without +your raising it." + +Open defiance was a thing which Mr. Goble had never encountered +before, and for a moment it deprived him of breath. He recovered it, +however, almost immediately. + +"You're fired!" + +"On the contrary," said Mr. Hill, "I'm resigning." He drew a +green-covered script from his pocket and handed it with an air to the +pallid assistant stage-director. Then, more gracefully than ever +Freddie Rooke had managed to move down-stage under the tuition of +Johnson Miller, he moved up-stage to the exit. "I trust that you will +be able to find someone who will play the part according to your +ideas!" + +"I'll find," bellowed Mr. Goble at his vanishing back, "a chorus-man +who'll play it a damned sight better than you!" He waved to the +assistant stage-director. "Send the chorus-men on the stage!" + +"All the gentlemen of the chorus on the stage, please!" shrilled the +assistant stage-director, bounding into the wings like a retriever. +"Mr. Goble wants all the chorus-gentlemen on the stage!" + +There was a moment, when the seven male members of "The Rose of +America" ensemble lined up self-consciously before his gleaming eyes, +when Mr. Goble repented of his brave words. An uncomfortable feeling +passed across his mind that Fate had called his bluff and that he +would not be able to make good. All chorus-men are exactly alike, and +they are like nothing else on earth. Even Mr. Goble, anxious as he was +to overlook their deficiencies, could not persuade himself that in +their ranks stood even an adequate Lord Finchley. + +And then, just as a cold reaction from his fervid mood was about to +set in, he perceived that Providence had been good to him. There, at +the extreme end of the line, stood a young man who, as far as +appearance went, was the ideal Lord Finchley--as far as appearance +went, a far better Lord Finchley than the late Mr. Hill. He beckoned +imperiously. + +"You at the end!" + +"Me?" said the young man. + +"Yes, you. What's your name?" + +"Rooke. Frederick Rooke, don't you know." + +"You're English, aren't you?" + +"Eh? Oh, yes, absolutely!" + +"Ever played a part before?" + +"Part? Oh, I see what you mean. Well, in amateur theatricals, you +know, and all that sort of rot." + +His words were music to Mr. Goble's ears. He felt that his Napoleonic +action had justified itself by success. His fury left him. If he had +been capable of beaming, one would have said that he beamed at +Freddie. + +"Well, you play the part of Lord Finchley from now on. Come to my +office this afternoon for your contract. Clear the stage. We've wasted +enough time." + +Five minutes later, in the wings, Freddie, receiving congratulations +from Nelly Bryant, asserted himself. + +"_Not_ the Automat to-day, I _think_, what? Now that I'm a jolly old +star and all that sort of thing, it can't be done. Directly this is +over we'll roll round to the Cosmopolis. A slight celebration is +indicated, what? Right ho! Rally round, dear heart, rally round!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +JILL EXPLAINS + +I + + +The lobby of the Hotel Cosmopolis is the exact centre of New York, the +spot where at certain hours one is sure of meeting everybody one +knows. The first person that Nelly and Freddie saw, as they passed +through the swing doors, was Jill. She was seated on the chair by the +big pillar in the middle of the hall. + +"What ho!" said Freddie. "Waiting for someone?" + +"Hullo, Freddie. Yes, I'm waiting for Wally Mason. I got a note from +him this morning, asking me to meet him here. I'm a little early. I +haven't congratulated you yet. You're wonderful!" + +"Thanks, old girl. Our young hero _is_ making pretty hefty strides in +his chosen profesh, what? Mr. Rooke, who appears quite simple and +unspoiled by success, replied to our representative's enquiry as to +his future plans, that he proposed to stagger into the grill-room and +imbibe about eighteen dollars' worth of lunch. Yes, it _is_ a bit of +all right, taking it by and large, isn't it? I mean to say, the +salary, the jolly old salary, you know ... quite a help when a +fellow's lost all his money!" + +Jill was surprised to observe that the Last of the Rookes was +contorting his face in an unsightly manner that seemed to be an +attempt at a wink, pregnant with hidden meaning. She took her cue +dutifully, though without understanding. + +"Oh, yes," she replied. + +Freddie seemed grateful. With a cordial "Cheerio!" he led Nelly off to +the grill-room. + +"I didn't know Jill knew Mr. Mason," said Nelly, as they sat down at +their table. + +"No?" said Freddie absently, running an experienced eye over the bill +of fare. He gave an elaborate order. "What was that? Oh, absolutely! +Jill and I and Wally were children together." + +"How funny you should all be together again like this." + +"Yes. Oh, good Lord!" + +"What's the matter?" + +"It's nothing. I meant to send a cable to a pal of mine in England, +I'll send it after lunch." + +Freddie took out his handkerchief, and tied a knot in it. He was +slightly ashamed of the necessity of taking such a precaution, but it +was better to be on the safe side. His interview with Jill at the +theatre had left him with the conviction that there was only one thing +for him to do, and that was to cable poor old Derek to forget +impending elections and all the rest of it and pop over to America at +once. He knew that he would never have the courage to re-open the +matter with Jill himself. As an ambassador he was a spent force. If +Jill was to be wooed from her mood of intractibility, Derek was the +only man to do it. Freddie was convinced that, seeing him in person, +she would melt and fall into his arms. Too dashed absurd, Freddie +felt, two loving hearts being separated like this and all that sort +of thing. He replaced his handkerchief in his pocket, relieved, and +concentrated himself on the entertainment of Nelly. A simple task for +the longer he was with this girl, the easier did it seem, to talk to +her. + +Jill, left alone in the lobby, was finding the moments pass quite +pleasantly. She liked watching the people as they came in. One or two +of the girls of the company fluttered in like birds, were swooped upon +by their cavaliers, and fluttered off to the grill-room. The +red-headed Babe passed her with a genial nod, and, shortly after, Lois +Denham, the willowy recipient of sunbursts from her friend Izzy of the +hat-checks, came by in company with a sallow, hawk-faced young man +with a furtive eye, whom Jill took--correctly--to be Izzy himself. +Lois was looking pale and proud, and, from the few words which came to +Jill's ears as they neared her, seemed to be annoyed at having been +kept waiting. + +It was immediately after this that the swing-doors revolved rather +more violently than usual, and Mr. Goble burst into view. + +There was a cloud upon Mr. Goble's brow, seeming to indicate that his +grievance against life had not yet been satisfactorily adjusted; but +it passed as he saw Jill, and he came up to her with what he would +probably have claimed to be an ingratiating smile. + +"Hullo!" said Mr. Goble. "All alone?" + +Jill was about to say that the condition was merely temporary when the +manager went on. + +"Come and have a bit of lunch." + +"Thank you very much," said Jill, with the politeness of dislike, "but +I'm waiting for someone." + +"Chuck him!" advised Mr. Goble cordially. + +"No, thanks, I couldn't, really." + +The cloud began to descend again upon Mr. Goble's brow. He was +accustomed to having these invitations of his treated as royal +commands. + +"Come along!" + +"I'm afraid it's impossible." + +Mr. Goble subjected her to a prolonged stare, seemed about to speak, +changed his mind, and swung off moodily in the direction of the +grill-room. He was not used to this sort of treatment. + +He had hardly gone, when Wally appeared. + +"What was he saying to you?" demanded Wally abruptly, without +preliminary greeting. + +"He was asking me to lunch." + +Wally was silent for a moment. His good-natured face wore an unwonted +scowl. + +"He went in there, of course?" he said, pointing to the grill-room. + +"Yes." + +"Then let's go into the other room," said Wally. He regained his good +humour. "It was awfully good of you to come. I didn't know whether you +would be able to." + +"It was very nice of you to invite me." + +Wally grinned. + +"How perfect our manners are! It's a treat to listen! How did you know +that that was the one hat in New York I wanted you to wear?" + +"Oh, these things get about. Do you like it?" + +"It's wonderful. Let's take this table, shall we?" + + +II + +They sat down. The dim, tapestry-hung room soothed Jill. She was +feeling a little tired after the rehearsal. At the far end of the room +an orchestra was playing a tune that she remembered and liked. Her +mind went back to the last occasion on which she and Wally had sat +opposite each other at a restaurant. How long ago it seemed! She +returned to the present to find Wally speaking to her. + +"You left very suddenly the other night," said Wally. + +"I didn't want to meet Freddie." + +Wally looked at her commiseratingly. + +"I don't want to spoil your lunch," he said, "but Freddie knows all. +He has tracked you down. He met Nelly Bryant, whom he seems to have +made friends with in London, and she told him where you were and what +you were doing. For a girl who fled at his mere approach the night +before last, you don't seem very agitated by the news," he said, as +Jill burst into a peal of laughter. + +"You haven't heard?" + +"Heard what?" + +"Freddie got Mr. Pilkington to put him in the chorus of the piece. He +was rehearsing when I arrived at the theatre this morning, and having +a terrible time with Mr. Miller. And, later on, Mr. Goble had a +quarrel with the man who was playing the Englishman, and the man threw +up his part, and Mr. Goble said he could get any one in the chorus to +play it just as well, and he chose Freddie. So now Freddie is one of +the principals, and bursting with pride!" + +Wally threw his head back and uttered a roar of appreciation which +caused a luncher at a neighbouring table to drop an oyster which he +was poising in mid-air. + +"Don't make such a noise!" said Jill severely. "Everyone's looking at +you." + +"I must! It's the most priceless thing I ever heard. I've always +maintained and I always will maintain that for pure lunacy nothing can +touch the musical comedy business. There isn't anything that can't +happen in musical comedy. 'Alice in Wonderland' is nothing to it." + +"Have you felt that, too? That's exactly how I feel. It's like a +perpetual 'Mad Hatter's Tea-Party.'" + +"But what on earth made Freddie join the company at all?" + +A sudden gravity descended upon Jill. The words had reminded her of +the thing which she was perpetually striving to keep out of her +thoughts. + +"He said he wanted to be there to keep an eye on me." + +Gravity is infectious. Wally's smile disappeared. He, too, had been +recalled to thoughts which were not pleasant. + +Wally crumbled his roll. There was a serious expression on his face. + +"Freddie was quite right. I didn't think he had so much sense." + +"Freddie was not right," flared Jill. The recollection of her +conversation with that prominent artist still had the power to fire +her independent soul. "I'm not a child. I can look after myself. What +I do is my own business." + +"I'm afraid you're going to find that your business is several +people's business. I am interested in it myself. I don't like your +being on the stage. Now bite my head off!" + +"It's very kind of you to bother about me...." + +"I said 'Bite my head off!' I didn't say 'Freeze me!' I take the +licence of an old friend who in his time has put worms down your +back, and I repeat--I don't like your being on the stage." + +"I shouldn't have thought you would have been so"--Jill sought for a +devastating adjective--"so mid-Victorian!" + +"As far as you are concerned, I'm the middest Victorian in existence. +Mid is my middle name." Wally met her indignant gaze squarely. +"I--do--not--like--your--being--on--the--stage! Especially in any +company which Ike Goble is running." + +"Why Mr. Goble particularly?" + +"Because he is not the sort of man you ought to be coming in contact +with." + +"What nonsense!" + +"It isn't nonsense at all. I suppose you've read a lot about the +morals of theatrical managers...." + +"Yes. And it seemed to be exaggerated and silly." + +"So it is. There's nothing wrong with most of them. As a general +thing, they are very decent fellows--extraordinarily decent if you +think of the position they are in. I don't say that in a business way +there's much they won't try to put over on you. In the theatre, when +it comes to business, everything goes except biting and gouging. +'There's never a law of God or man runs north of fifty-three.' If you +alter that to 'north of Forty-first Street' it doesn't scan as well, +but it's just as true. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that +the Golden Rule is suspended there. You get used to it after you have +been in the theatre for a while, and, except for leaving your watch +and pocket-book at home when you have to pay a call on a manager and +keeping your face to him so that he can't get away with your back +collar-stud, you don't take any notice of it. It's all a game. If a +manager swindles you, he wins the hole and takes the honour. If you +foil him, you are one up. In either case, it makes no difference to +the pleasantness of your relations. You go on calling him by his first +name, and he gives you a couple of cigars out of his waistcoat pocket +and says you're a good kid. There is nothing personal in it. He has +probably done his best friend out of a few thousand dollars the same +morning, and you see them lunching together after the ceremony as +happily as possible. You've got to make allowances for managers. They +are the victims of heredity. When a burglar marries a hat-check girl, +their offspring goes into the theatrical business automatically, and +he can't shake off the early teaching which he imbibed at his father's +knee. But morals...." + +Wally broke off to allow the waiter to place a fried sole before him. +Waiters always select the moment when we are talking our best to +intrude themselves. + +"As regards morals," resumed Wally, "that is a different matter. Most +managers are respectable, middle-aged men with wives and families. +They are in the business to make money, and they don't want anything +else out of it. The girls in their companies are like so many clerks +to them, just machines that help to bring the money in. They don't +know half a dozen of them to speak to. But our genial Ike is not like +that." Wally consumed a mouthful of sole. "Ike Goble is a bad citizen. +He paws! He's a slinker and a prowler and a leerer. He's a pest and a +worm! He's fat and soft and flabby. He has a greasy soul, a withered +heart, and an eye like a codfish. Not knocking him, of course!" added +Wally magnanimously. "Far be it from me to knock anyone! But, speaking +with the utmost respect and viewing him in the most favourable light, +he is a combination of tom-cat and the things you see when you turn +over a flat stone! Such are the reasons why I am sorry that you are in +his company." + +Jill had listened to this diatribe with a certain uneasiness. Her +brief encounters with Mr. Goble told her that every word was probably +true. She could still feel the unpleasant sensation of being inspected +by the eye which Wally had compared--quite justly--to that of a +codfish. But her pride forbade any admission of weakness. + +"I can take care of myself," she said. + +"I don't doubt it," said Wally. "And you could probably take care of +yourself if you fell into a muddy pond. But I shouldn't like to stand +on the bank and watch you doing it. I know what girls in the chorus +have to go through. Hanging about for hours in draughts, doing +nothing, while the principals go through their scenes, and yelled at +if they try to relieve the tedium of captivity with a little light +conversation...." + +"Yes," admitted Jill. "There has been a good lot of that." + +"There always is. I believe if the stage-carpenter was going to stick +a screw in a flat, they would call a chorus-rehearsal to watch him do +it.... Jill, you must get out of it. It's no life for you. The +work...." + +"I like the work." + +"While it's new, perhaps, but...." + +Jill interrupted him passionately. + +"Oh, can't you understand!" she cried. "I want the work. I need it. I +want something to do, something to occupy my mind. I hate talking +about it, but you know how things are with me. Freddie must have told +you. Even if he didn't, you must have guessed, meeting me here all +alone and remembering how things were when we last met. You must +understand! Haven't you ever had a terrible shock or a dreadful +disappointment that seemed to smash up the whole world? And didn't you +find that the only possible thing to do was to work and work and work +as hard as ever you could? When I first came to America, I nearly went +mad. Uncle Chris sent me down to a place on Long Island, and I had +nothing to do all day but think. I couldn't stand it. I ran away and +came to New York and met Nelly Bryant and got this work to do. It +saved me. It kept me busy all day and tired me out and didn't give me +time to think. The harder it is, the better it suits me. It's an +antidote. I simply wouldn't give it up now. As for what you were +saying, I must put up with that. The other girls do, so why shouldn't +I?" + +"They are toughened to it." + +"Then I must get toughened to it. What else is there for me to do? I +must do something." + +"Marry me!" said Wally, reaching across the table and putting his hand +on hers. The light in his eyes lit up his homely face like a lantern. + + +III + +The suddenness of it startled Jill into silence. She snatched her hand +away and drew back, looking at him in wonderment. She was confusedly +aware of a babble of sound--people talking, people laughing, the +orchestra playing a lively tune. All her senses seemed to have become +suddenly more acute. She was intensely alive to small details. Then, +abruptly, the whole world condensed itself into two eyes that were +fastened upon hers--compelling eyes which she felt a panic desire to +avoid. + +She turned her head away, and looked out into the restaurant. It +seemed incredible that all these people, placidly intent upon their +food and their small talk, should not be staring at her, wondering +what she was going to say; nudging each other and speculating. Their +detachment made her feel alone and helpless. She was nothing to them +and they did not care what happened to her, just as she had been +nothing to those frozen marshes down at Brookport. She was alone in an +indifferent world, with her own problems to settle for herself. + +Other men had asked Jill to marry them--a full dozen of them, here and +there in country houses and at London dances, before she had met and +loved Derek Underhill; but nothing that she had had in the way of +experience had prepared her for Wally. These others had given her time +to marshal her forces, to collect herself, to weigh them thoughtfully +in the balance. Before speaking, they had signalled their devotion in +a hundred perceptible ways--by their pinkness, their stammering +awkwardness, by the glassy look in their eyes. They had not shot a +proposal at her like a bullet from out of the cover of a conversation +that had nothing to do with their emotions at all. + +Yet, now that the shock of it was dying away, she began to remember +signs she would have noticed, speeches which ought to have warned +her.... + +"Wally!" she gasped. + +She found that he affected her in an entirely different fashion from +the luckless dozen of those London days. He seemed to matter more, to +be more important, almost--though she rebelled at the word--more +dangerous. + +"Let me take you out of it all! You aren't fit for this sort of life. +I can't bear to see you...." + +Jill bent forward and touched his hand. He started as though he had +been burned. The muscles of his throat were working. + +"Wally, it's--" She paused for a word. "Kind" was horrible. It would +have sounded cold, almost supercilious. "Sweet" was the sort of thing +she could imagine Lois Denham saying to her friend Izzy. She began her +sentence again. "You're a dear to say that, but...." + +Wally laughed chokingly. + +"You think I'm altruistic? I'm not. I'm just as selfish and +self-centred as any other man who wants a thing very badly. I'm as +altruistic as a child crying for the moon. I want you to marry me +because I love you, because there never was anybody like you, because +you're the whole world, because I always have loved you. I've been +dreaming about you for a dozen years, thinking about you, wondering +about you--wondering where you were, what you were doing, how you +looked. I used to think that it was just sentimentality, that you +merely stood for a time of my life when I was happier than I have ever +been since. I used to think that you were just a sort of peg on which +I was hanging a pleasant sentimental regret for days which could never +come back. You were a memory that seemed to personify all the other +memories of the best time of my life. You were the goddess of old +associations. Then I met you in London, and it was different. I wanted +you--_you_! I didn't want you because you recalled old times and were +associated with dead happiness, I wanted _you_! I knew I loved you +directly you spoke to me at the theatre that night of the fire. I +loved your voice and your eyes and your smile and your courage. And +then you told me you were engaged. I might have expected it, but I +couldn't keep my jealousy from showing itself, and you snubbed me as I +deserved. But now ... things are different now. Everything's +different, except my love." + +Jill turned her face to the wall beside her. A man at the next table, +a corpulent, red-faced man, had begun to stare. He could have heard +nothing, for Wally had spoken in a low voice; but plainly he was aware +that something more interesting was happening at their table than at +any of the other tables, and he was watching with a bovine +inquisitiveness which affected Jill with a sense of outrage. A moment +before, she had resented the indifference of the outer world. Now, +this one staring man seemed like a watching multitude. There were +tears in her eyes, and she felt that the red-faced man suspected it. + +"Wally...." Her voice broke. "It's impossible." + +"Why? Why, Jill?" + +"Because.... Oh, it's impossible!" + +There was a silence. + +"Because...." He seemed to find a difficulty in speaking. "Because of +Underhill?" + +Jill nodded. She felt wretched. The monstrous incongruity of her +surroundings oppressed her. The orchestra had dashed into a rollicking +melody, which set her foot tapping in spite of herself. At a near-by +table somebody was shouting with laughter. Two waiters at a +service-stand were close enough for her to catch snatches of their +talk. They were arguing about an order of fried potatoes. Once again +her feelings veered round, and she loathed the detachment of the +world. Her heart ached for Wally. She could not look at him, but she +knew exactly what she would see if she did--honest, pleading eyes +searching her face for something which she could not give. + +"Yes," she said. + +The table creaked. Wally was leaning further forward. He seemed like +something large and pathetic--a big dog in trouble. She hated to be +hurting him. And all the time her foot tapped accompaniment to the +rag-time tune. + +"But you can't live all your life with a memory," said Wally. + +Jill turned and faced him. His eyes seemed to leap at her, and they +were just as she had pictured them. + +"You don't understand," she said gently. "You don't understand." + +"It's ended. It's over." + +Jill shook her head. + +"You can't still love him, after what has happened!" + +"I don't know," said Jill unhappily. + +The words seemed to bewilder Wally as much as they had bewildered +Freddie. + +"You don't know?" + +Jill shut her eyes tight. Wally quivered. It was a trick she had had +as a child. In perplexity, she had always screwed up her eyes just +like that, as if to shut herself up in herself. + +"Don't talk for a minute, Wally," she said. "I want to think." + +Her eyes opened. + +"It's like this," she said. He had seen her look at him in exactly the +same way a hundred times. "I don't suppose I can make you understand, +but this is how it is. Suppose you had a room, and it was full--of +things. Furniture. And there wasn't any space left. You--you couldn't +put anything else in till you had taken all that out, could you? It +might not be worth anything, but it would still be there, taking up +all the room." + +Wally nodded. + +"Yes," he said. "I see." + +"My heart's full, Wally dear. I know it's just lumber that's choking +it up, but it's difficult to get it out. It takes time getting it out. +I put it in, thinking it was wonderful furniture, the most wonderful +in the world, and--I was cheated. It was just lumber. But it's there. +It's still there. It's there all the time. And what am I to do?" + +The orchestra crashed, and was silent. The sudden stillness seemed to +break a spell. The world invaded the little island where they sat. A +chattering party of girls and men brushed past them. The waiter, +judging that they had been there long enough, slipped a strip of +paper, decorously turned upside down, in front of Wally. He took the +money, and went away to get change. + +Wally turned to Jill. + +"I understand," he said. "All this hasn't happened, and we're just as +good pals as before?" + +"Yes." + +"But...." He forced a laugh ... "mark my words, a time may come, and +then...!" + +"I don't know," said Jill. + +"A time may come," repeated Wally. "At any rate, let me think so. It +has nothing to do with me. It's for you to decide, absolutely. I'm not +going to pursue you with my addresses! If ever you get that room of +yours emptied, you won't have to hang out a 'To Let' sign. I shall be +waiting, and you will know where to find me. And, in the meantime, +yours to command, Wallace Mason. Is that clear?" + +"Quite clear." Jill looked at him affectionately. "There's nobody I'd +rather open that room to than you, Wally. You know that." + +"Is that the solemn truth?" + +"The solemn truth." + +"Then," said Wally, "in two minutes you will see a startled waiter. +There will be about fourteen dollars change out of that twenty he took +away. I'm going to give it all to him." + +"You mustn't!" + +"Every cent!" said Wally firmly. "And the young Greek brigand who +stole my hat at the door is going to get a dollar! That, as our +ascetic and honourable friend Goble would say, is the sort of little +guy _I_ am!" + + * * * * * + +The red-faced man at the next table eyed them as they went out, +leaving behind them a waiter who clutched totteringly for support at +the back of a chair. + +"Had a row," he decided, "but made it up." + +He called for a toothpick. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MR. GOBLE PLAYS WITH FATE + +I + + +On the boardwalk at Atlantic City, that much-enduring seashore resort +which has been the birthplace of so many musical plays, there stands +an all-day and all-night restaurant, under the same management and +offering the same hospitality as the one in Columbus Circle at which +Jill had taken her first meal on arriving in New York. At least, its +hospitality is noisy during the waking and working hours of the day; +but there are moments when it has an almost cloistral peace, and the +customer, abashed by the cold calm of its snowy marble and the silent +gravity of the white-robed attendants, unconsciously lowers his voice +and tries to keep his feet from shuffling, like one in a temple. The +members of the chorus of "The Rose of America," dropping in by ones +and twos at six o'clock in the morning about two weeks after the +events recorded in the last chapter, spoke in whispers and gave their +orders for breakfast in a subdued undertone. + +The dress-rehearsal had just dragged its weary length to a close. It +is the custom of the dwellers in Atlantic City, who seem to live +entirely by pleasure, to attend a species of vaudeville +performances--incorrectly termed a sacred concert--on Sunday nights, +and it had been one o'clock in the morning before the concert scenery +could be moved out of the theatre and the first act set of "The Rose +of America" moved in. And, as by some unwritten law of the drama no +dress-rehearsal can begin without a delay of at least an hour and a +half, the curtain had not gone up on Mr. Miller's opening chorus till +half-past two. There had been dress-parades, conferences, interminable +arguments between the stage-director and a mysterious man in +shirt-sleeves about the lights, more dress-parades, further +conferences, hitches with regard to the sets, and another outbreak of +debate on the subject of blues, ambers, and the management of the +"spot," which was worked by a plaintive voice, answering to the name +of Charlie, at the back of the family circle. But by six o'clock a +complete, if ragged, performance had been given, and the chorus, who +had partaken of no nourishment since dinner on the previous night, had +limped off round the corner for a bite of breakfast before going to +bed. + +They were a battered and a draggled company, some with dark circles +beneath their eyes, others blooming with the unnatural scarlet of the +make-up which they had been too tired to take off. The Duchess, +haughty to the last, had fallen asleep with her head on the table. The +red-headed Babe was lying back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. +The Southern girl blinked like an owl at the morning sunshine out on +the boardwalk. + +The Cherub, whose triumphant youth had brought her almost fresh +through a sleepless night, contributed the only remark made during the +interval of waiting for the meal. + +"The fascination of a thtage life! Why girls leave home!" She looked +at her reflection in the little mirror of her vanity-bag. "It _is_ a +face!" she murmured reflectively. "But I should hate to have to go +around with it long!" + +A sallow young man, with the alertness peculiar to those who work on +the night-shifts of restaurants, dumped a tray down on the table with +a clatter. The Duchess woke up. Babe took her eyes off the ceiling. +The Southern girl ceased to look at the sunshine. Already, at the mere +sight of food, the extraordinary recuperative powers of the theatrical +worker had begun to assert themselves. In five minutes these girls +would be feeling completely restored and fit for anything. + +Conversation broke out with the first sip of coffee, and the calm of +the restaurant was shattered. Its day had begun. + +"It's a great life if you don't weaken," said the Cherub hungrily +attacking her omelette. "And the wortht is yet to come! I thuppose all +you old dears realithe that this show will have to be rewritten from +end to end, and we'll be rehearthing day and night all the time we're +on the road." + +"Why?" Lois Denham spoke with her mouth full. "What's wrong with it?" + +The Duchess took a sip of coffee. + +"Don't make me laugh!" she pleaded. "What's wrong with it? What's +right with it, one would feel more inclined to ask!" + +"One would feel thtill more inclined," said the Cherub, "to athk why +one was thuch a chump as to let oneself in for this sort of thing when +one hears on all sides that waitresses earn thixty dollars a month." + +"The numbers are all right," argued Babe. "I don't mean the melodies, +but Johnny has arranged some good business." + +"He always does," said the Southern girl. "Some more buckwheat cakes, +please. But what about the book?" + +"I never listen to the book." + +The Cherub laughed. + +"You're too good to yourself! I listened to it right along, and take +it from me it's sad! Of courthe they'll have it fixed. We can't open +in New York like this. My professional reputation wouldn't thtand it! +Didn't you thee Wally Mason in front, making notes? They've got him +down to do the re-writing." + +Jill, who had been listening in a dazed way to the conversation, +fighting against the waves of sleep which flooded over her, woke up. + +"Was Wally--was Mr. Mason there?" + +"Sure. Sitting at the back." + +Jill could not have said whether she was glad or sorry. She had not +seen Wally since that afternoon when they had lunched together at the +Cosmopolis, and the rush of the final weeks of rehearsals had given +her little opportunity for thinking of him. At the back of her mind +had been the feeling that sooner or later she would have to think of +him, but for two weeks she had been too tired and too busy to +re-examine him as a factor in her life. There had been times when the +thought of him had been like the sunshine on a winter day, warming her +with almost an impersonal glow in moments of depression. And then some +sharp, poignant memory of Derek would come to blot him out. + +She came out of her thoughts to find that the talk had taken another +turn. + +"And the wortht of it is," the Cherub was saying, "we shall rehearthe +all day and give a show every night and work ourselves to the bone, +and then, when they're good and ready, they'll fire one of us!" + +"That's right!" agreed the Southern girl. + +"They couldn't!" Jill cried. + +"You wait!" said the Cherub. "They'll never open in New York with +thirteen girls. Ike's much too thuperstitious." + +"But they wouldn't do a thing like that after we've all worked so +hard!" + +There was a general burst of sardonic laughter. Jill's opinion of the +chivalry of theatrical managers seemed to be higher than that of her +more experienced colleagues. + +"They'll do anything," the Cherub assured her. + +"You don't know the half of it, dearie," scoffed Lois Denham. "You +don't know the half of it!" + +"Wait till you've been in as many shows as I have," said Babe, shaking +her red locks. "The usual thing is to keep a girl slaving her head off +all through the road-tour and then fire her before the New York +opening." + +"But it's a shame! It isn't fair!" + +"If one is expecting to be treated fairly," said the Duchess with a +prolonged yawn, "one should not go into the show-business." + +And, having uttered this profoundly true maxim, she fell asleep again. + +The slumber of the Duchess was the signal for a general move. Her +somnolence was catching. The restorative effects of the meal were +beginning to wear off. There was a call for a chorus rehearsal at four +o'clock, and it seemed the wise move to go to bed and get some sleep +while there was time. The Duchess was roused from her dreams by means +of a piece of ice from one of the tumblers; bills were paid; and the +company poured out, yawning and chattering, into the sunlight of the +empty boardwalk. + +Jill detached herself from the group, and made her way to a seat +facing the sea. Tiredness had fallen upon her like a leaden weight, +crushing all the power out of her limbs, and the thought of walking to +the boarding-house where, from motives of economy, she was sharing a +room with the Cherub, paralysed her. + +It was a perfect morning, clear and cloudless, with the warm +freshness of a day that means to be hotter later on. The sea sparkled +in the sun. Little waves broke lazily on the grey sand. Jill closed +her eyes, for the brightness of sun and water was trying; and her +thoughts went back to what the Cherub had said. + +If Wally was really going to rewrite the play, they would be thrown +together. She would be obliged to meet him, and she was not sure that +she was ready to meet him. Still, he would be somebody to talk to on +subjects other than the one eternal topic of the theatre, somebody who +belonged to the old life. She had ceased to regard Freddie Rooke in +this light; for Freddie, solemn with his new responsibilities as a +principal, was the most whole-hearted devotee of "shop" in the +company. Freddie nowadays declined to consider any subject for +conversation that did not have to do with "The Rose of America" in +general and his share in it in particular. Jill had given him up, and +he had paired off with Nelly Bryant. The two were inseparable. Jill +had taken one or two meals with them, but Freddie's professional +monologues, of which Nelly seemed never to weary, were too much for +her. As a result she was now very much alone. There were girls in the +company whom she liked, but most of them had their own intimate +friends, and she was always conscious of not being really wanted. She +was lonely, and, after examining the matter as clearly as her tired +mind would allow, she found herself curiously soothed by the thought +that Wally would be near to mitigate her loneliness. + +She opened her eyes, blinking. Sleep had crept upon her with an +insidious suddenness, and she had almost fallen over on the seat. She +was just bracing herself to get up and begin the long tramp to the +boarding-house, when a voice spoke at her side. + +"Hullo! Good morning!" + +Jill looked up. + +"Hullo, Wally!" + +"Surprised to see me?" + +"No. Milly Trevor said she had seen you at the rehearsal last night." + +Wally came round the bench and seated himself at her side. His eyes +were tired, and his chin dark and bristly. + +"Had breakfast?" + +"Yes, thanks. Have you?" + +"Not yet. How are you feeling?" + +"Rather tired." + +"I wonder you're not dead. I've been through a good many +dress-rehearsals, but this one was the record. Why they couldn't have +had it comfortably in New York and just have run through the piece +without scenery last night, I don't know, except that in musical +comedy it's etiquette always to do the most inconvenient thing. They +know perfectly well that there was no chance of getting the scenery +into the theatre till the small hours. You must be worn out. Why +aren't you in bed?" + +"I couldn't face the walk. I suppose I ought to be going, though." + +She half rose, then sank back again. The glitter of the water +hypnotized her. She closed her eyes again. She could hear Wally +speaking, then his voice grew suddenly faint and far off, and she +ceased to fight the delicious drowsiness. + +Jill awoke with a start. She opened her eyes, and shut them again at +once. The sun was very strong now. It was one of those prematurely +warm days of early Spring which have all the languorous heat of late +summer. She opened her eyes once more, and found that she was feeling +greatly refreshed. She also discovered that her head was resting on +Wally's shoulder. + +"Have I been asleep?" + +Wally laughed. + +"You have been having what you might call a nap." He massaged his left +arm vigorously. "You needed it. Do you feel more rested now?" + +"Good gracious! Have I been squashing your poor arm all the time? Why +didn't you move?" + +"I was afraid you would fall over. You just shut your eyes and toppled +sideways." + +"What's the time?" + +Wally looked at his watch. + +"Just on ten." + +"Ten!" Jill was horrified. "Why, I have been giving you cramp for +about three hours! You must have had an awful time!" + +"Oh, it was all right. I think I dozed off myself. Except that the +birds didn't come and cover us with leaves; it was rather like the +'Babes in the Wood.'" + +"But you haven't had any breakfast! Aren't you starving?" + +"Well, I'm not saying I wouldn't spear a fried egg with some vim if it +happened to float past. But there's plenty of time for that. Lots of +doctors say you oughtn't to eat breakfast, and Indian fakirs go +without food for days at a time in order to develop their souls. Shall +I take you back to wherever you're staying? You ought to get a proper +sleep in bed." + +"Don't dream of taking me. Go off and have something to eat." + +"Oh, that can wait. I'd like to see you safely home." + +Jill was conscious of a renewed sense of his comfortingness. There was +no doubt about it, Wally was different from any other man she had +known. She suddenly felt guilty, as if she were obtaining something +valuable under false pretences. + +"Wally!" + +"Hullo?" + +"You--you oughtn't to be so good to me!" + +"Nonsense! Where's the harm in lending a hand--or, rather, an arm--to +a pal in trouble?" + +"You know what I mean. I can't ... that is to say ... it isn't as +though ... I mean...." + +Wally smiled a tired, friendly smile. + +"If you're trying to say what I think you're trying to say, don't! We +had all that out two weeks ago. I quite understand the position. You +mustn't worry yourself about it." He took her arm, and they crossed +the boardwalk. "Are we going in the right direction? You lead the way. +I know exactly how you feel. We're old friends, and nothing more. But, +as an old friend, I claim the right to behave like an old friend. If +an old friend can't behave like an old friend, how _can_ an old friend +behave? And now we'll rule the whole topic out of the conversation. +But perhaps you're too tired for conversation?" + +"Oh, no." + +"Then I will tell you about the sad death of young Mr. Pilkington." + +"What!" + +"Well, when I say death, I use the word in a loose sense. The human +giraffe still breathes, and I imagine, from the speed with which he +legged it back to his hotel when we parted, that he still takes +nourishment. But really he is dead. His heart is broken. We had a +conference after the dress-rehearsal, and our friend Mr. Goble told +him in no uncertain words--in the whole course of my experience I have +never heard words less uncertain--that his damned rotten high-brow +false-alarm of a show--I am quoting Mr. Goble--would have to be +rewritten by alien hands. And these are them! On the right, alien +right hand. On the left, alien left hand. Yes, I am the instrument +selected for the murder of Pilkington's artistic aspirations. I'm +going to rewrite the show. In fact, I have already rewritten the first +act and most of the second. Goble foresaw this contingency and told me +to get busy two weeks ago, and I've been working hard ever since. We +shall start rehearsing the new version to-morrow and open in Baltimore +next Monday with practically a different piece. And it's going to be a +pippin, believe _me_, said our hero modestly. A gang of composers has +been working in shifts for two weeks, and, by chucking out nearly all +of the original music, we shall have a good score. It means a lot of +work for you, I'm afraid. All the business of the numbers will have to +be re-arranged." + +"I like work," said Jill. "But I'm sorry for Mr. Pilkington." + +"He's all right. He owns seventy per cent of the show. He may make a +fortune. He's certain to make a comfortable sum. That is, if he +doesn't sell out his interest in pique--or dudgeon, if you prefer it. +From what he said at the close of the proceedings, I fancy he would +sell out to anybody who asked him. At least, he said that he washed +his hands of the piece. He's going back to New York this +afternoon--won't even wait for the opening. Of course, _I'm_ sorry for +the poor chap in a way, but he had no right, with the excellent +central idea which he got, to turn out such a rotten book. Oh, by the +way!" + +"Yes?" + +"Another tragedy! Unavoidable, but pathetic. Poor old Freddie! He's +out!" + +"Oh, no!" + +"Out!" repeated Wally firmly. + +"But didn't you think he was good last night?" + +"He was awful! But that isn't why. Goble wanted his part rewritten as +a Scotchman, so as to get McAndrew, the fellow who made such a hit +last season in 'Hoots, Mon!' That sort of thing is always happening in +musical comedy. You have to fit parts to suit whatever good people +happen to be available at the moment. My heart bleeds for Freddie, but +what can one do? At any rate he isn't so badly off as a fellow was in +one of my shows. In the second act he was supposed to have escaped +from an asylum, and the management, in a passion for realism, insisted +that he should shave his head. The day after he shaved it, they heard +that a superior comedian was disengaged and fired him. It's a ruthless +business." + +"The girls were saying that one of us would be dismissed." + +"Oh, I shouldn't think that's likely." + +"I hope not." + +"So do I. What are we stopping for?" + +Jill had halted in front of a shabby-looking house, one of those +depressing buildings which spring up overnight at seashore resorts and +start to decay the moment the builders have left them. + +"I live here." + +"Here?" Wally looked at her in consternation. "But...." + +Jill smiled. + +"We working-girls have got to economize. Besides, it's quite +comfortable--fairly comfortable--inside, and it's only for a week." +She yawned. "I believe I'm falling asleep again. I'd better hurry in +and go to bed. Good-bye, Wally dear. You've been wonderful. Mind you +go and get a good breakfast." + + +II + +When Jill arrived at the theatre at four o'clock for the chorus +rehearsal, the expected blow had not fallen. No steps had apparently +been taken to eliminate the thirteenth girl whose presence in the cast +preyed on Mr. Goble's superstitious mind. But she found her colleagues +still in a condition of pessimistic foreboding. "Wait!" was the gloomy +watchword of "The Rose of America" chorus. + +The rehearsal passed off without event. It lasted until six o'clock, +when Jill, the Cherub, and two or three of the other girls went to +snatch a hasty dinner before returning to the theatre to make up. It +was not a cheerful meal. Reaction had set in after the over-exertion +of the previous night, and it was too early for first-night excitement +to take its place. Everybody, even the Cherub, whose spirits seldom +failed her, was depressed, and the idea of an overhanging doom had +grown. It seemed now to be merely a question of speculating on the +victim, and the conversation gave Jill, as the last addition to the +company, and so the cause of swelling the ranks of the chorus to the +unlucky number, a feeling of guilt. She was glad when it was time to +go back to the theatre. + +The moment she and her companions entered the dressing-room, it was +made clear to them that the doom had fallen. In a chair in the corner, +all her pretence and affectation swept away in a flood of tears, sat +the unhappy Duchess, the centre of a group of girls anxious to +console, but limited in their ideas of consolation to an occasional +pat on the back and an offer of a fresh pocket-handkerchief. + +"It's tough, honey!" somebody was saying as Jill came in. + +Somebody else said it was fierce, and a third girl declared it to be +the limit. A fourth girl, well-meaning but less helpful than she would +have liked to be, was advising the victim not to worry. + +The story of the disaster was brief and easily told. The Duchess, +sailing in at the stage-door, had paused at the letterbox to see if +Cuthbert, her faithful auto-salesman, had sent her a good-luck +telegram. He had, but his good wishes were unfortunately neutralized +by the fact that the very next letter in the box was one from the +management, crisp and to the point, informing the Duchess that her +services would not be required that night or thereafter. It was the +subtle meanness of the blow that roused the indignation of "The Rose +of America" chorus, the cunning villainy with which it had been timed. + +"Poor Mae, if she'd opened to-night, they'd have had to give her two +weeks' notice or her salary. But they can fire her without a cent just +because she's only been rehearsing and hasn't given a show!" + +The Duchess burst into fresh flood of tears. + +"Don't you worry, honey!" advised the well-meaning girl who would have +been in her element looking in on Job with Bildad the Shuhite and his +friends. "Don't you worry!" + +"It's tough!" said the girl who had adopted that form of verbal +consolation. + +"It's fierce!" said the girl who preferred that adjective. + +The other girl, with an air of saying something new, repeated her +statement that it was the limit. The Duchess cried forlornly +throughout. She had needed this engagement badly. Chorus salaries are +not stupendous, but it is possible to save money by means of them +during a New York run, especially if you have spent three years in a +milliner's shop and can make your own clothes, as the Duchess, in +spite of her air of being turned out by Fifth Avenue modistes, could +and did. She had been looking forward, now that this absurd piece was +to be rewritten by someone who knew his business and had a good chance +of success, to putting by just those few dollars that make all the +difference when you are embarking on married life. Cuthbert, for all +his faithfulness, could not hold up the financial end of the +establishment unsupported for at least another eighteen months; and +this disaster meant that the wedding would have to be postponed again. +So the Duchess, abandoning that aristocratic manner criticized by some +of her colleagues as "up-stage" and by others as "Ritz-y," sat in her +chair and consumed pocket-handkerchiefs as fast as they were offered +to her. + +Jill had been the only girl in the room who had spoken no word of +consolation. This was not because she was not sorry for the Duchess. +She had never been sorrier for any one in her life. The pathos of that +swift descent from haughtiness to misery had bitten deep into her +sensitive heart. But she revolted at the idea of echoing the banal +words of the others. Words were no good, she thought, as she set her +little teeth and glared at an absent management--a management just +about now presumably distending itself with a luxurious dinner at one +of the big hotels. Deeds were what she demanded. All her life she had +been a girl of impulsive action, and she wanted to act impulsively +now. She was in much the same Berserk mood as had swept her, raging, +to the defence of Bill the parrot on the occasion of his dispute with +Henry of London. The fighting spirit which had been drained from her +by the all-night rehearsal had come back in full measure. + +"What are you going to _do_?" she cried. "Aren't you going to _do_ +something?" + +Do? The members of "The Rose of America" ensemble looked doubtfully at +one another. Do? It had not occurred to them that there was anything +to be done. These things happened, and you regretted them, but as for +doing anything, well, what _could_ you do? + +Jill's face was white and her eyes were flaming. She dominated the +roomful of girls like a little Napoleon. The change in her startled +them. Hitherto they had always looked on her as rather an unusually +quiet girl. She had always made herself unobtrusively pleasant to them +all. They all liked her. But they had never suspected her of +possessing this militant quality. Nobody spoke, but there was a +general stir. She had flung a new idea broadcast, and it was beginning +to take root. Do something? Well, if it came to that, why not? + +"We ought all to refuse to go on to-night unless they let her go on!" +Jill declared. + +The stir became a movement. Enthusiasm is catching, and every girl is +at heart a rebel. And the idea was appealing to the imagination. +Refuse to give a show on the opening night! Had a chorus ever done +such a thing? They trembled on the verge of making history. + +"Strike?" quavered somebody at the back. + +"Yes, strike!" cried Jill. + +"Hooray! That's the thtuff!" shouted the Cherub, and turned the scale. +She was a popular girl, and her adherence to the Cause confirmed the +doubters. "Thtrike!" + +"Strike! Strike!" + +Jill turned to the Duchess, who had been gaping amazedly at the +demonstration. She no longer wept, but she seemed in a dream. + +"Dress and get ready to go on," Jill commanded. "We'll all dress and +get ready to go on. Then I'll go and find Mr. Goble and tell him what +we mean to do. And, if he doesn't give in, we'll stay here in this +room, and there won't be a performance!" + + +III + +Mr. Goble, with a Derby hat on the back of his head and an unlighted +cigar in the corner of his mouth, was superintending the erection of +the first act set when Jill found him. He was standing with his back +to the safety-curtain glowering at a blue canvas, supposed to +represent one of those picturesque summer skies which you get at the +best places on Long Island. Jill, coming down-stage from the staircase +that led to the dressing-room, interrupted his line of vision. + +"Get out of the light!" bellowed Mr. Goble, always a man of direct +speech, adding "Damn you!" for good measure. + +"Please move to one side," interpreted the stage-director. "Mr. Goble +is looking at the set." + +The head carpenter, who completed the little group, said nothing. +Stage carpenters always say nothing. Long association with fussy +directors has taught them that the only policy to pursue on opening +nights is to withdraw into the silence, wrap themselves up in it, and +not emerge until the enemy has grown tired and gone off to worry +somebody else. + +"It don't look right!" said Mr. Goble, cocking his head on one side. + +"I see what you mean, Mr. Goble," assented the stage-director +obsequiously. "It has perhaps a little too much--er--not quite +enough--yes, I see what you mean!" + +"It's too--damn--BLUE!" rasped Mr. Goble, impatient of the vacillating +criticism. "That's what's the matter with it." + +The head carpenter abandoned the silent policy of a lifetime. He felt +impelled to utter. He was a man who, when not at the theatre, spent +most of his time in bed, reading all-fiction magazines; but it so +happened that once, last summer, he had actually seen the sky; and he +considered that this entitled him to speak almost as a specialist on +the subject. + +"Ther sky _is_ blue!" he observed huskily. "Yessir! I seen it!" + +He passed into the silence again, and, to prevent a further lapse, +stopped up his mouth with a piece of chewing-gum. + +Mr. Goble regarded the silver-tongued orator wrathfully. He was not +accustomed to chatterboxes arguing with him like this. He would +probably have said something momentous and crushing, but at this point +Jill intervened. + +"Mr. Goble." + +The manager swung round on her. + +"What _is_ it?" + +It is sad to think how swiftly affection can change to dislike in this +world. Two weeks before, Mr. Goble had looked on Jill with favour. She +had seemed good in his eyes. But that refusal of hers to lunch with +him, followed by a refusal some days later to take a bit of supper +somewhere, had altered his views on feminine charm. If it had been +left to him, as most things were about this theatre, to decide which +of the thirteen girls should be dismissed, he would undoubtedly have +selected Jill. But at this stage in the proceedings there was the +unfortunate necessity of making concessions to the temperamental +Johnson Miller. Mr. Goble was aware that the dance-director's services +would be badly needed in the re-arrangement of the numbers during the +coming week or so, and he knew that there were a dozen managers +waiting eagerly to welcome him if he threw up his present job, so he +had been obliged to approach him in quite a humble spirit and enquire +which of his female chorus could be most easily spared. And, as the +Duchess had a habit of carrying her haughty languor on to the stage +and employing it as a substitute for the chorea which was Mr. Miller's +ideal, the dance-director had chosen her. To Mr. Goble's dislike of +Jill, therefore, was added now something of the fury of the baffled +potentate. + +"'Jer want?" he demanded. + +"Mr. Goble is extremely busy," said the stage-director. "Extremely." + +A momentary doubt as to the best way of approaching her subject had +troubled Jill on her way downstairs, but, now that she was on the +battlefield confronting the enemy, she found herself cool, collected, +and full of a cold rage which steeled her nerves without confusing her +mind. + +"I came to ask you to let Mae D'Arcy go on to-night." + +"Who the hell's Mae D'Arcy?" Mr. Goble broke off to bellow at a +scene-shifter who was depositing the wall of Mrs. Stuyvesant van +Dyke's Long Island residence too far down stage. "Not there, you fool! +Higher up!" + +"You gave her notice this evening," said Jill. + +"Well, what about it?" + +"We want you to withdraw it." + +"Who's 'we'?" + +"The other girls and myself." + +Mr. Goble jerked his head so violently that the Derby hat flew off, to +be picked up, dusted, and restored by the stage-director. + +"Oh, so you don't like it? Well, you know what you can do...." + +"Yes," said Jill, "we do. We are going to strike." + +"What?" + +"If you don't let Mae go on, we shan't go on. There won't be a +performance to-night, unless you like to give one without a chorus." + +"Are you crazy?" + +"Perhaps. But we're quite unanimous." + +Mr. Goble, like most theatrical managers, was not good at words over +two syllables. + +"You're what?" + +"We've talked it over, and we've all decided to do what I said." + +Mr. Goble's hat shot off again, and gambolled away into the wings, +with the stage-director bounding after it like a retriever. + +"Whose idea's this?" demanded Mr. Goble. His eyes were a little foggy, +for his brain was adjusting itself but slowly to the novel situation. + +"Mine." + +"Oh, yours! I thought as much!" + +"Well," said Jill, "I'll go back and tell them that you will not do +what we ask. We will keep our make-up on in case you change your +mind." + +She turned away. + +"Come back!" + +Jill proceeded toward the staircase. As she went, a husky voice spoke +in her ear. + +"Go to it, kid! You're all right!" + +The head-carpenter had broken his Trappist vows twice in a single +evening, a thing which had not happened to him since the night three +years ago, when, sinking wearily into a seat in a dark corner for a +bit of a rest, he found that one of his assistants had placed a pot of +red paint there. + + +IV + +To Mr. Goble, fermenting and full of strange oaths, entered Johnson +Miller. The dance-director was always edgey on first nights, and +during the foregoing conversation had been flitting about the stage +like a white-haired moth. His deafness had kept him in complete +ignorance that there was anything untoward afoot, and he now +approached Mr. Goble with his watch in his hand. + +"Eight twenty-five," he observed. "Time those girls were on stage." + +Mr. Goble, glad of a concrete target for his wrath, cursed him in +about two hundred and fifty rich and well-selected words. + +"Huh?" said Miller, hand to ear. + +Mr. Goble repeated the last hundred and eleven words, the pick of the +bunch. + +"Can't hear!" said Mr. Miller regretfully. "Got a cold." + +The grave danger that Mr. Goble, a thick-necked man, would undergo +some sort of a stroke was averted by the presence of mind of the +stage-director, who, returning with the hat, presented it like a +bouquet to his employer, and then, his hands being now unoccupied, +formed them into a funnel and through this flesh-and-blood megaphone +endeavoured to impart the bad news. + +"The girls say they won't go on!" + +Mr. Miller nodded. + +"I _said_ it was time they were on." + +"They're on strike!" + +"It's not," said Mr. Miller austerely, "what they _like_, it's what +they're paid for. They ought to be on stage. We should be ringing up +in two minutes." + +The stage-director drew another breath, then thought better of it. He +had a wife and children, and, if dadda went under with apoplexy, what +became of the home, civilization's most sacred product? He relaxed the +muscles of his diaphragm, and reached for pencil and paper. + +Mr. Miller inspected the message, felt for his spectacle-case, found +it, opened it, took out his glasses, replaced the spectacle-case, felt +for his handkerchief, polished the glasses, replaced the handkerchief, +put the glasses on, and read. A blank look came into his face. + +"Why?" he enquired. + +The stage-director, with a nod of the head intended to imply that he +must be patient and all would come right in the future, recovered the +paper, and scribbled another sentence. Mr. Miller perused it. + +"Because Mae D'Arcy has got her notice?" he queried, amazed. "But the +girl can't dance a step." + +The stage-director, by means of a wave of the hand, a lifting of both +eyebrows, and a wrinkling of the nose, replied that the situation, +unreasonable as it might appear to the thinking man, was as he had +stated and must be faced. What, he enquired--through the medium of a +clever drooping of the mouth and a shrug of the shoulders--was to be +done about it? + +Mr. Miller remained for a moment in meditation. + +"I'll go and talk to them," he said. + +He flitted off, and the stage-director leaned back against the +asbestos curtain. He was exhausted, and his throat was in agony, but +nevertheless he was conscious of a feeling of quiet happiness. His +life had been lived in the shadow of the constant fear that some day +Mr. Goble might dismiss him. Should that disaster occur, he felt there +was always a future for him in the movies. + +Scarcely had Mr. Miller disappeared on his peace-making errand, when +there was a noise like a fowl going through a quickset hedge, and Mr. +Saltzburg, brandishing his baton as if he were conducting an unseen +orchestra, plunged through the scenery at the left upper entrance and +charged excitedly down the stage. Having taken his musicians twice +through the overture, he had for ten minutes been sitting in silence, +waiting for the curtain to go up. At last, his emotional nature +cracking under the strain of this suspense, he had left his +conductor's chair and plunged down under the stage by way of the +musician's bolthole to ascertain what was causing the delay. + +"What is it? What is it? What is it? What is it?" enquired Mr. +Saltzburg. "I wait and wait and wait and wait and wait.... We cannot +play the overture again. What is it? What has happened?" + +Mr. Goble, that overwrought soul, had betaken himself to the wings +where he was striding up and down with his hands behind his back, +chewing his cigar. The stage-director braced himself once more to the +task of explanation. + +"The girls have struck!" + +Mr. Saltzburg blinked through his glasses. + +"The girls?" he repeated blankly. + +"Oh, damn it!" cried the stage-director, his patience at last giving +way. "You know what a girl is, don't you?" + +"They have what?" + +"Struck! Walked out on us! Refused to go on!" + +Mr. Saltzburg reeled under the blow. + +"But it is impossible! Who is to sing the opening chorus?" + +In the presence of one to whom he could relieve his mind without fear +of consequences, the stage-director became savagely jocular. + +"That's all arranged," he said. "We're going to dress the carpenters +in skirts. The audience won't notice anything wrong." + +"Should I speak to Mr. Goble?" queried Mr. Saltzburg doubtfully. + +"Yes, if you don't value your life," returned the stage-director. + +Mr. Saltzburg pondered. + +"I will go and speak to the childrun," he said. "I will talk to them. +They know _me_! I will make them be reasonable." + +He bustled off in the direction taken by Mr. Miller, his coat-tails +flying behind him. The stage-director, with a tired sigh, turned to +face Wally, who had come in through the iron pass-door from the +auditorium. + +"Hullo!" said Wally cheerfully. "Going strong? How's everybody at +home? Fine? So am I! By the way, am I wrong or did I hear something +about a theatrical entertainment of some sort here to-night?" He +looked about him at the empty stage. In the wings, on the prompt side, +could be discerned the flannel-clad forms of the gentlemanly members +of the male ensemble, all dressed up for Mrs. Stuyvesant van Dyke's +tennis party. One or two of the principals were standing perplexedly +in the lower entrance. The O.P. side had been given over by general +consent to Mr. Goble for his perambulations. Every now and then he +would flash into view through an opening in the scenery. "I understood +that to-night was the night for the great revival of comic opera. +Where are the comics, and why aren't they opping?" + +The stage-director repeated his formula once more. + +"The girls have struck!" + +"So have the clocks," said Wally. "It's past nine." + +"The chorus refuse to go on." + +"No, really! Just artistic loathing of the rotten piece, or is there +some other reason?" + +"They're sore because one of them has been given her notice, and they +say they won't give a show unless she's taken back. They've struck. +That Mariner girl started it." + +"She did!" Wally's interest became keener. "She would!" he said +approvingly. "She's a heroine!" + +"Little devil! I never liked that girl!" + +"Now there," said Wally, "is just the point on which we differ. I have +always liked her, and I've known her all my life. So, shipmate, if you +have any derogatory remarks to make about Miss Mariner, keep them +where they belong--_there_!" He prodded the other sharply in the +stomach. He was smiling pleasantly, but the stage-director, catching +his eye, decided that his advice was good and should be followed. It +is just as bad for the home if the head of the family gets his neck +broken as if he succumbs to apoplexy. + +"You surely aren't on their side?" he said. + +"Me!" said Wally. "Of course I am. I'm always on the side of the +down-trodden and oppressed. If you know of a dirtier trick than firing +a girl just before the opening, so that they won't have to pay her two +weeks' salary, mention it. Till you do, I'll go on believing that it +is the limit. Of course I'm on the girls' side. I'll make them a +speech if they want me to, or head the procession with a banner if +they are going to parade down the boardwalk. I'm for 'em, Father +Abraham, a hundred thousand strong. And then a few! If you want my +considered opinion, our old friend Goble has asked for it and got it. +And I'm glad--glad--glad, if you don't mind my quoting Pollyanna for a +moment. I hope it chokes him!" + +"You'd better not let him hear you talking like that!" + +"_Au contraire_, as we say in the Gay City, I'm going to make a point +of letting him hear me talk like that! Adjust the impression that I +fear any Goble in shining armour, because I don't. I propose to speak +my mind to him. I would beard him in his lair, if he had a beard. +Well, I'll clean-shave him in his lair. That will be just as good. But +hist! whom have we here? Tell me, do you see the same thing I see?" + +Like the vanguard of a defeated army, Mr. Saltzburg was coming +dejectedly across the stage. + +"Well?" said the stage-director. + +"They would not listen to me," said Mr. Saltzburg brokenly. "The more +I talked the more they did not listen!" He winced at a painful memory. +"Miss Trevor stole my baton, and then they all lined up and sang the +'Star-Spangled Banner'!" + +"Not the words?" cried Wally incredulously. "Don't tell me they knew +the words!" + +"Mr. Miller is still up there, arguing with them. But it will be of no +use. What shall we do?" asked Mr. Saltzburg helplessly. "We ought to +have rung up half an hour ago. What shall we do-oo-oo?" + +"We must go and talk to Goble," said Wally. "Something has got to be +settled quick. When I left, the audience was getting so impatient that +I thought he was going to walk out on us. He's one of those nasty, +determined-looking men. So come along!" + +Mr. Goble, intercepted as he was about to turn for another walk +up-stage, eyed the deputation sourly and put the same question that +the stage-director had put to Mr. Saltzburg. + +"Well?" + +Wally came briskly to the point. + +"You'll have to give in," he said, "or else go and make a speech to +the audience, the burden of which will be that they can have their +money back by applying at the box-office. These Joans of Arc have got +you by the short hairs!" + +"I won't give in!" + +"Then give out!" said Wally. "Or pay out, if you prefer it. Trot along +and tell the audience that the four dollars fifty in the house will be +refunded." + +Mr. Goble gnawed his cigar. + +"I've been in the show business fifteen years...." + +"I know. And this sort of thing has never happened to you before. One +gets new experiences." + +Mr. Goble cocked his cigar at a fierce angle, and glared at Wally. +Something told him that Wally's sympathies were not wholly with him. + +"They can't do this sort of thing to _me_!" he growled. + +"Well, they are doing it to someone, aren't they," said Wally, "and, +if it's not you, who is it?" + +"I've a damned good mind to fire them all!" + +"A corking idea! I can't see a single thing wrong with it except that +it would hang up the production for another five weeks and lose you +your bookings and cost you a week's rent of this theatre for nothing +and mean having all the dresses made over and lead to all your +principals going off and getting other jobs. These trifling things +apart, we may call the suggestion a bright one." + +"You talk too damn much!" said Mr. Goble, eyeing him with distaste. + +"Well, go on, _you_ say something. Something sensible." + +"It is a very serious situation...." began the stage-director. + +"Oh, shut up!" said Mr. Goble. + +The stage-director subsided into his collar. + +"I cannot play the overture again," protested Mr. Saltzburg. "I +cannot!" + +At this point Mr. Miller appeared. He was glad to see Mr. Goble. He +had been looking for him, for he had news to impart. + +"The girls," said Mr. Miller, "have struck! They won't go on!" + +Mr. Goble, with the despairing gesture of one who realizes the +impotence of words, dashed off for his favourite walk up stage. Wally +took out his watch. + +"Six seconds and a bit," he said approvingly, as the manager returned. +"A very good performance. I should like to time you over the course in +running-kit." + +The interval for reflection, brief as it had been, had apparently +enabled Mr. Goble to come to a decision. + +"Go," he said to the stage-director, "and tell 'em that fool of a +D'Arcy girl can play. We've got to get that curtain up." + +"Yes, Mr. Goble." + +The stage-director galloped off. + +"Get back to your place," said the manager to Mr. Saltzburg, "and play +the overture again." + +"Again!" + +"Perhaps they didn't hear it the first two times," said Wally. + +Mr. Goble watched Mr. Saltzburg out of sight. Then he turned to Wally. + +"That damned Mariner girl was at the bottom of this! She started the +whole thing! She told me so. Well, I'll settle _her_! She goes +to-morrow!" + +"Wait a minute," said Wally. "Wait one minute! Bright as it is, that +idea is _out_!" + +"What the devil has it got to do with you?" + +"Only this, that if you fire Miss Mariner, I take that neat script +which I've prepared and I tear it into a thousand fragments. Or nine +hundred. Anyway, I tear it. Miss Mariner opens in New York, or I pack +up my work and leave." + +Mr. Goble's green eyes glowed. + +"Oh, you're stuck on her, are you?" he sneered. "I see!" + +"Listen, dear heart," said Wally, gripping the manager's arm, "I can +see that you are on the verge of introducing personalities into this +very pleasant little chat. Resist the impulse! Why not let your spine +stay where it is instead of having it kicked up through your hat? Keep +to the main issue. Does Miss Mariner open in New York or does she +not?" + +There was a tense silence. Mr. Goble permitted himself a swift review +of his position. He would have liked to do many things to Wally, +beginning with ordering him out of the theatre, but prudence +restrained him. He wanted Wally's work. He needed Wally in his +business: and, in the theatre, business takes precedence of personal +feelings. + +"All right!" he growled reluctantly. + +"That's a promise," said Wally. "I'll see that you keep it." He looked +over his shoulder. The stage was filled with gaily-coloured dresses. +The mutineers had returned to duty. "Well, I'll be getting along. I'm +rather sorry we agreed to keep clear of personalities, because I +should have liked to say that, if ever they have a skunk-show at +Madison Square Garden, you ought to enter--and win the blue ribbon. +Still, of course, under our agreement my lips are sealed, and I can't +even hint at it. Good-bye. See you later, I suppose?" + +Mr. Goble, giving a creditable imitation of a living statue, was +plucked from his thoughts by a hand upon his arm. It was Mr. Miller, +whose unfortunate ailment had prevented him from keeping abreast of +the conversation. + +"What did he say?" enquired Mr. Miller, interested. "I didn't hear +what he said!" + +Mr. Goble made no effort to inform him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE COST OF A ROW + +I + + +Otis Pilkington had left Atlantic City two hours after the conference +which had followed the dress-rehearsal, firmly resolved never to go near +"The Rose of America" again. He had been wounded in his finest feelings. +There had been a moment, when Mr. Goble had given him the choice between +having the piece rewritten and cancelling the production altogether, when +he had inclined to the heroic course. But for one thing Mr. Pilkington +would have defied the manager, refused to allow his script to be touched, +and removed the play from his hands. That one thing was the fact that, up +to the day of the dress-rehearsal, the expenses of the production had +amounted to the appalling sum of thirty-two thousand eight hundred and +fifty-nine dollars, sixty-eight cents, all of which had to come out of Mr. +Pilkington's pocket. The figures, presented to him in a neatly typewritten +column stretching over two long sheets of paper, had stunned him. He had +had no notion that musical plays cost so much. The costumes alone had come +to ten thousand six hundred and sixty-three dollars and fifty cents, and +somehow that odd fifty cents annoyed Otis Pilkington as much as anything +on the list. A dark suspicion that Mr. Goble, who had seen to all the +executive end of the business, had a secret arrangement with the costumer +whereby he received a private rebate, deepened his gloom. Why, for ten +thousand six hundred and sixty-three dollars and fifty cents you could +dress the whole female population of New York State and have a bit left +over for Connecticut. So thought Mr. Pilkington, as he read the bad news +in the train. He only ceased to brood upon the high cost of costuming when +in the next line but one there smote his eye an item of four hundred and +ninety-eight dollars for "Clothing." Clothing! Weren't costumes clothing? +Why should he have to pay twice over for the same thing? Mr. Pilkington +was just raging over this, when something lower down in the column caught +his eye. It was the words:-- + +Clothing .... 187.45 + +At this Otis Pilkington uttered a stifled cry, so sharp and so +anguished that an old lady in the next seat, who was drinking a glass +of milk, dropped it and had to refund the railway company thirty-five +cents for breakages. For the remainder of the journey she sat with one +eye warily on Mr. Pilkington, waiting for his next move. + +This adventure quieted Otis Pilkington down, if it did not soothe him. +He returned blushingly to a perusal of his bill of costs, nearly every +line of which contained some item that infuriated and dismayed him. +"Shoes" ($213.50) he could understand, but what on earth was "Academy. +Rehl. $105.50"? What was "Cuts ... $15"? And what in the name of +everything infernal was this item for "Frames," in which mysterious +luxury he had apparently indulged to the extent of ninety-four dollars +and fifty cents? "Props" occurred on the list no fewer than seventeen +times. Whatever his future, at whatever poor-house he might spend his +declining years, he was supplied with enough props to last his +lifetime. + +Otis Pilkington stared blankly at the scenery that flitted past the +train windows. (Scenery! There had been two charges for scenery! +"Friedmann, Samuel ... Scenery ... $3711" and "Unitt and Wickes ... +Scenery ... $2120"). He was suffering the torments of the ruined +gamester at the roulette-table. Thirty-two thousand eight hundred and +fifty-nine dollars, sixty-eight cents! And he was out of pocket ten +thousand in addition from the cheque he had handed over two days ago +to Uncle Chris as his share of the investment of starting Jill in the +motion-pictures. It was terrible! It deprived one of the power of +thought. + +The power of thought, however, returned to Mr. Pilkington almost +immediately, for, remembering suddenly that Roland Trevis had assured +him that no musical production, except one of those elaborate +girl-shows with a chorus of ninety, could possibly cost more than +fifteen thousand dollars at an outside figure, he began to think about +Roland Trevis, and continued to think about him until the train pulled +into the Pennsylvania Station. + +For a week or more the stricken financier confined himself mostly to +his rooms, where he sat smoking cigarettes, gazing at Japanese prints, +and trying not to think about "props" and "rehl." Then, gradually, the +almost maternal yearning to see his brain-child once more, which can +never be wholly crushed out of a young dramatist, returned to +him--faintly at first, then getting stronger by degrees till it could +no longer be resisted. Otis Pilkington, having instructed his Japanese +valet to pack a few simple necessaries in a suit-case, took a cab to +the Grand Central Station and caught an afternoon train for Rochester, +where his recollection of the route planned for the tour told him "The +Rose of America" would now be playing. + +Looking into his club on the way, to cash a cheque, the first person +he encountered was Freddie Rooke. + +"Good gracious!" said Otis Pilkington. "What are you doing here?" + +Freddie looked up dully from his reading. The abrupt stoppage of his +professional career--his life-work, one might almost say--had left +Freddie at a very loose end; and so hollow did the world seem to him +at the moment, so uniformly futile all its so-called allurements, +that, to pass the time, he had just been trying to read the _National +Geographic Magazine_. + +"Hullo!" he said. "Well, might as well be here as anywhere, what?" he +replied to the other's question. + +"But why aren't you playing?" + +"They sacked me! They've changed my part to a bally Scotchman! Well, I +mean to say, I couldn't play a bally Scotchman!" + +Mr. Pilkington groaned in spirit. Of all the characters in his musical +fantasy on which he prided himself, that of Lord Finchley was his pet. +And he had been burked, murdered, blotted out, in order to make room +for a bally Scotchman. + +"The character's called 'The McWhustle of McWhustle' now!" said +Freddie sombrely. + +The McWhustle of McWhustle! Mr. Pilkington almost abandoned his trip +to Rochester on receiving this devastating piece of information. + +"He comes on in Act One in kilts!" + +"In kilts! At Mrs. Stuyvesant van Dyke's garden-party! On Long +Island!" + +"It isn't Mrs. Stuyvesant van Dyke any longer, either," said Freddie. +"She's been changed to the wife of a pickle manufacturer." + +"A pickle manufacturer!" + +"Yes. They said it ought to be a comedy part." + +If agony had not caused Mr. Pilkington to clutch for support at the +back of a chair, he would undoubtedly have wrung his hands. + +"But it _was_ a comedy part!" he wailed. "It was full of the subtlest, +most delicate satire on Society. They were delighted with it at +Newport! Oh, this is too much! I shall make a strong protest! I shall +insist on these parts being kept as I wrote them! I shall.... I must +be going at once, or I shall miss my train." He paused at the door. +"How was business in Baltimore?" + +"Rotten!" said Freddie, and returned to his _National Geographic +Magazine_. + +Otis Pilkington tottered into his cab. He was shattered by what he had +heard. They had massacred his beautiful play and, doing so had not +even made a success of it by their own sordid commercial lights. +Business at Baltimore had been rotten! That meant more expense, +further columns of figures with "frames" and "rehl." in front of them! +He staggered into the station. + +"Hey!" cried the taxi-driver. + +Otis Pilkington turned. + +"Sixty-five cents, mister, if _you_ please! Forgetting I'm not your +private shovoor, wasn't you?" + +Mr. Pilkington gave him a dollar. Money--money! Life was just one long +round of paying out and paying out. + + +II + +The day which Mr. Pilkington had selected for his visit to the +provinces was a Tuesday. "The Rose of America" had opened at Rochester +on the previous night, after a week at Atlantic City in its original +form and a week at Baltimore in what might be called its second +incarnation. Business had been bad in Atlantic City and no better in +Baltimore, and a meagre first-night house at Rochester had given the +piece a cold reception, which had put the finishing touches to the +depression of the company in spite of the fact that the Rochester +critics, like those of Baltimore, had written kindly of the play. One +of the maxims of the theatre is that "out-of-town notices don't +count," and the company had refused to be cheered by them. + +It is to be doubted, however, if even crowded houses would have +aroused much response from the principals and chorus of "The Rose of +America." For two weeks without a break they had been working under +forced draught, and they were weary in body and spirit. The new +principals had had to learn parts in exactly half the time usually +given for that purpose, and the chorus, after spending five weeks +assimilating one set of steps and groupings, had been compelled to +forget them and rehearse an entirely new set. From the morning after +the first performance at Atlantic City, they had not left the theatre +except for sketchy half-hour meals. + +Jill, standing listlessly in the wings while the scene-shifters +arranged the Second Act set, was aware of Wally approaching from the +direction of the pass-door. + +"Miss Mariner, I believe?" said Wally. "I suppose you know you look +perfectly wonderful in that dress? All Rochester's talking about it, +and there is some idea of running excursion trains from Troy and +Utica. A great stir it has made!" + +Jill smiled. Wally was like a tonic to her during these days of +overwork. He seemed to be entirely unaffected by the general +depression, a fact which he attributed himself to the happy accident +of being in a position to sit back and watch the others toil. But in +reality Jill knew that he was working as hard as any one. He was +working all the time, changing scenes, adding lines, tinkering with +lyrics, smoothing over principals whose nerves had become strained by +the incessant rehearsing, keeping within bounds Mr. Goble's passion +for being the big noise about the theatre. His cheerfulness was due to +the spirit that was in him, and Jill appreciated it. She had come to +feel very close to Wally since the driving rush of making over "The +Rose of America" had begun. + +"They seemed quite calm to-night," she said. "I believe half of them +were asleep." + +"They're always like that in Rochester. They cloak their deeper +feelings. They wear the mask. But you can tell from the glassy look in +their eyes that they are really seething inwardly. But what I came +round about was--(a)--to give you this letter...." + +Jill took the letter, and glanced at the writing. It was from Uncle +Chris. She placed it on the axe over the fire-buckets for perusal +later. + +"The man at the box-office gave it to me," said Wally, "when I looked +in there to find out how much money there was in the house to-night. +The sum was so small that he had to whisper it." + +"I'm afraid the piece isn't a success." + +"Nonsense! Of course it is! We're doing fine. That brings me to +section (b) of my discourse. I met poor old Pilkington in the lobby, +and he said exactly what you have just said, only at greater length." + +"Is Mr. Pilkington here?" + +"He appears to have run down on the afternoon train to have a look at +the show. He is catching the next train back to New York! Whenever I +meet him, he always seems to be dashing off to catch the next train +back to New York! Poor chap! Have you ever done a murder? If you +haven't, don't! I know exactly what it feels like, and it feels +rotten! After two minutes' conversation with Pilkington, I could +sympathize with Macbeth when he chatted with Banquo. He said I had +killed his play. He nearly wept, and he drew such a moving picture of +a poor helpless musical fantasy being lured into a dark alley by thugs +and there slaughtered that he almost had me in tears too. I felt like +a beetle-browed brute with a dripping knife and hands imbrued with +innocent gore." + +"Poor Mr. Pilkington!' + +"Once more you say exactly what he said, only more crisply. I +comforted him as well as I could, told him all was for the best and so +on, and he flung the box-office receipts in my face and said that the +piece was as bad a failure commercially as it was artistically. I +couldn't say anything to that, seeing what a house we've got to-night, +except to bid him look out to the horizon where the sun will shortly +shine. In other words, I told him that business was about to buck up +and that later on he would be going about the place with a sprained +wrist from clipping coupons. But he refused to be cheered, cursed me +some more for ruining his piece, and ended by begging me to buy his +share of it cheap." + +"You aren't going to?" + +"No, I am not--but simply and solely for the reason that, after that +fiasco in London, I raised my right hand--thus--and swore an oath that +never, as long as I lived, would I again put up a cent for a +production, were it the most obvious cinch on earth. I'm gun-shy. But +if he does happen to get hold of any one with a sporting disposition +and a few thousands to invest, that person will make a fortune. This +piece is going to be a gold-mine." + +Jill looked at him in surprise. With anybody else but Wally she would +have attributed this confidence to author's vanity. But with Wally, +she felt, the fact that the piece, as played now, was almost entirely +his own work did not count. He viewed it dispassionately, and she +could not understand why, in the face of half-empty houses, he should +have such faith in it. + +"But what makes you think so? We've been doing awfully badly so far." + +Wally nodded. + +"And we shall do awfully badly in Syracuse the last half of this week. +And why? For one thing, because the show isn't a show at all at +present. Why should people flock to pay for seats for what are +practically dress-rehearsals of an unknown play? Half the principals +have had to get up in their parts in two weeks, and they haven't had +time to get anything out of them. They are groping for their lines all +the time. The girls can't let themselves go in the numbers, because +they are wondering if they are going to remember the steps. The show +hasn't had time to click together yet. It's just ragged. Take a look +at it in another two weeks! I _know_! I don't say musical comedy is a +very lofty form of art, but still there's a certain amount of science +about it. If you go in for it long enough, you learn the tricks, and +take it from me that, if you have a good cast and some catchy numbers +it's almost impossible not to have a success. We've got an excellent +cast now, and the numbers are fine. I tell you--as I tried to tell +Pilkington, only he wouldn't listen--that this show is all right. +There's a fortune in it for somebody. But I suppose Pilkington is now +sitting in the smoking-car of an east-bound train, trying to get the +porter to accept his share in the piece instead of a tip!" + +If Otis Pilkington was not actually doing that, he was doing +something like it. Sunk in gloom, he bumped up and down on an +uncomfortable seat, wondering why he had ever taken the trouble to +make the trip to Rochester. He had found exactly what he had expected +to find, a mangled caricature of his brain-child playing to a house +half empty and wholly indifferent. The only redeeming feature, he +thought vindictively, as he remembered what Roland Trevis had said +about the cost of musical productions, was the fact that the new +numbers were undoubtedly better than those which his collaborator had +originally supplied. + +And "The Rose of America," after a disheartening Wednesday matinee and +a not much better reception on the Wednesday night, packed its baggage +and moved to Syracuse, where it failed just as badly. Then for another +two weeks it wandered on from one small town to another, up and down +New York State and through the doldrums of Connecticut, tacking to and +fro like a storm-battered ship, till finally the astute and discerning +citizens of Hartford welcomed it with such a reception that hardened +principals stared at each other in a wild surmise, wondering if these +things could really be: and a weary chorus forgot its weariness and +gave encore after encore with a snap and vim which even Mr. Johnson +Miller was obliged to own approximated to something like it. Nothing +to touch the work of his choruses of the old days, of course, but +nevertheless fair, quite fair. + +The spirits of the company revived. Optimism reigned. Principals +smiled happily and said they had believed in the thing all along. The +ladies and gentlemen of the ensemble chattered contentedly of a year's +run in New York. And the citizens of Hartford fought for seats, and, +if they could not get seats, stood up at the back. + +Of these things Otis Pilkington was not aware. He had sold his +interest in the piece two weeks ago for ten thousand dollars to a +lawyer acting for some client unknown, and was glad to feel that he +had saved something out of the wreck. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +JILL RECEIVES NOTICE + +I + + +The violins soared to one last high note; the bassoon uttered a final +moan; the pensive person at the end of the orchestra-pit just under +Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim's box, whose duty it was to slam the drum at +stated intervals, gave that much-enduring instrument a concluding +wallop; and, laying aside his weapons, allowed his thoughts to stray +in the direction of cooling drinks. Mr. Saltzburg lowered the baton +which he had stretched quivering towards the roof and sat down and +mopped his forehead. The curtain fell on the first act of "The Rose of +America," and simultaneously tremendous applause broke out from all +over the Gotham Theatre, which was crammed from floor to roof with +that heterogeneous collection of humanity which makes up the audience +of a New York opening performance. The applause continued like the +breaking of waves on a stony beach. The curtain rose and fell, rose +and fell, rose and fell again. An usher, stealing down the central +aisle, gave to Mr. Saltzburg an enormous bouquet of American Beauty +roses, which he handed to the prima donna, who took it with a +brilliant smile and a bow, nicely combining humility with joyful +surprise. The applause, which had begun to slacken, gathered strength +again. It was a superb bouquet, nearly as big as Mr. Saltzburg +himself. It had cost the prima donna close on a hundred dollars that +morning at Thorley's, but it was worth every cent of the money. + +The house-lights went up. The audience began to move up the aisles to +stretch its legs and discuss the piece during the intermission. There +was a general babble of conversation. Here, a composer who had not got +an interpolated number in the show was explaining to another composer +who had not got an interpolated number in the show the exact source +from which a third composer who had got an interpolated number in the +show had stolen the number which he had got interpolated. There, two +musical comedy artists who were temporarily resting were agreeing that +the prima donna was a dear thing but that, contrary as it was to their +life-long policy to knock anybody, they must say that she was +beginning to show the passage of years a trifle and ought to be warned +by some friend that her career as an _ingénue_ was a thing of the +past. Dramatic critics, slinking in twos and threes into dark corners, +were telling each other that "The Rose of America" was just another of +those things but it had apparently got over. The general public was of +the opinion that it was a knock-out. + +"Otie, darling," said Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim, leaning her ample +shoulder on Uncle Chris' perfectly fitting sleeve and speaking across +him to young Mr. Pilkington, "I do congratulate you, dear. It's +perfectly delightful! I don't know when I have enjoyed a musical piece +so much. Don't you think it's perfectly darling, Major Selby?" + +"Capital!" agreed that suave man of the world, who had been bored as +near extinction as makes no matter. "Congratulate you, my boy!" + +"You clever, clever thing!" said Mrs. Peagrim, skittishly striking her +nephew on the knee with her fan. "I'm proud to be your aunt! Aren't +you proud to know him, Mr. Rooke?" + +The fourth occupant of the box awoke with a start from the species of +stupor into which he had been plunged by the spectacle of the +McWhustle of McWhustle in action. There had been other dark moments in +Freddie's life. Once, back in London, Parker had sent him out into the +heart of the West End without his spats and he had not discovered +their absence till he was half-way up Bond Street. On another +occasion, having taken on a stranger at squash for a quid a game, he +had discovered too late that the latter was an ex-public-school +champion. He had felt gloomy when he had learned of the breaking-off +of the engagement between Jill Mariner and Derek Underhill, and sad +when it had been brought to his notice that London was giving Derek +the cold shoulder in consequence. But never in his whole career had he +experienced such gloom and such sadness as had come to him that +evening while watching this unspeakable person in kilts murder that +part that should have been his. And the audience, confound them, had +roared with laughter at every damn silly thing the fellow had said! + +"Eh?" he replied. "Oh, yes, rather, absolutely!" + +"We're _all_ proud of you, Otie darling," proceeded Mrs. Peagrim. +"The piece is a wonderful success. You will make a fortune out of it. +And just think, Major Selby, I tried my best to argue the poor, dear +boy out of putting it on! I thought it was so rash to risk his money +in a theatrical venture. But then," said Mrs. Peagrim in extenuation, +"I had only seen the piece when it was done at my house at Newport, +and of course it really was rather dreadful nonsense then! I might +have known that you would change it a great deal before you put it on +in New York. As I always say, plays are not written, they are +rewritten! Why, you have improved this piece a hundred per cent, Otie! +I wouldn't know it was the same play!" + +She slapped him smartly once more with her fan, ignorant of the gashes +she was inflicting. Poor Mr. Pilkington was suffering twin torments, +the torture of remorse and the agonized jealousy of the unsuccessful +artist. It would have been bad enough to have to sit and watch a large +audience rocking in its seats at the slap-stick comedy which Wally +Mason had substituted for his delicate social satire: but, had this +been all, at least he could have consoled himself with the sordid +reflection that he, as owner of the piece, was going to make a lot of +money out of it. Now, even this material balm was denied him. He had +sold out, and he was feeling like the man who parts for a song with +shares in an apparently goldless gold mine, only to read in the papers +next morning that a new reef has been located. Into each life some +rain must fall. Quite a shower was falling now into young Mr. +Pilkington's. + +"Of course," went on Mrs. Peagrim, "when the play was done at my +house, it was acted by amateurs. And you know what amateurs are! The +cast to-night is perfectly splendid. I do think that Scotchman is the +most killing creature! Don't you think he is wonderful, Mr. Rooke?" + +We may say what we will against the upper strata of Society, but it +cannot be denied that breeding tells. Only by falling back for support +on the traditions of his class and the solid support of a gentle +up-bringing was the Last of the Rookes able to crush down the words +that leaped to his lips and to substitute for them a politely +conventional agreement. If Mr. Pilkington was feeling like a too +impulsive seller of gold mines, Freddie's emotions were akin to those +of the Spartan boy with the fox under his vest. Nothing but Winchester +and Magdalen could have produced the smile which, though twisted and +confined entirely to his lips, flashed on to his face and off again at +his hostess' question. + +"Oh, rather! Priceless!" + +"Wasn't that part an Englishman before?" asked Mrs. Peagrim. "I +thought so. Well, it was a stroke of genius changing it. This +Scotchman is too funny for words. And such an artist!" + +Freddie rose shakily. One can stand just so much. + +"Think," he mumbled, "I'll be pushing along and smoking a cigarette." + +He groped his way to the door. + +"I'll come with you, Freddie my boy," said Uncle Chris, who felt an +imperative need of five minutes' respite from Mrs. Peagrim. "Let's get +out into the air for a moment. Uncommonly warm it is here." + +Freddie assented. Air was what he felt he wanted most. + +Left alone in the box with her nephew, Mrs. Peagrim continued for some +moments in the same vein, innocently twisting the knife in the open +wound. It struck her from time to time that darling Otie was perhaps a +shade unresponsive, but she put this down to the nervous strain +inseparable from a first night of a young author's first play. + +"Why," she concluded, "you will make thousands and thousands of +dollars out of this piece. I am sure it is going to be another 'Merry +Widow.'" + +"You can't tell from a first night audience," said Mr. Pilkington +sombrely, giving out a piece of theatrical wisdom he had picked up at +rehearsals. + +"Oh, but you can. It's so easy to distinguish polite applause from the +real thing. No doubt many of the people down here have friends in the +company or other reasons for seeming to enjoy the play, but look how +the circle and the gallery were enjoying it! You can't tell me that +that was not genuine. They love it. How hard," she proceeded +commiseratingly, "you must have worked, poor boy, during the tour on +the road to improve the piece so much! I never liked to say so before +but even you must agree with me now that that original version of +yours, which was done down at Newport, was the most terrible nonsense! +And how hard the company must have worked too! Otie," cried Mrs. +Peagrim, aglow with the magic of a brilliant idea, "I will tell you +what you must really do. You must give a supper and dance to the +whole company on the stage to-morrow night after the performance." + +"What!" cried Otis Pilkington, startled out of his lethargy by this +appalling suggestion. Was he, the man who, after planking down +thirty-two thousand eight hundred and fifty, nine dollars, sixty-eight +cents for "props" and "frames" and "rehl," had sold out for a paltry +ten thousand, to be still further victimized? + +"They do deserve it, don't they, after working so hard?" + +"It's impossible," said Otis Pilkington vehemently. "Out of the +question." + +"But, Otie, darling, I was talking to Mr. Mason when he came down to +Newport to see the piece last summer, and he told me that the +management nearly always gives a supper to the company, especially if +they have had a lot of extra rehearsing to do." + +"Well, let Goble give them a supper if he wants to." + +"But you know that Mr. Goble, though he has his name on the programme +as the manager, has really nothing to do with it. You own the piece, +don't you?" + +For a moment Mr. Pilkington felt an impulse to reveal all, but +refrained. He knew his Aunt Olive too well. If she found out that he +had parted at a heavy loss with this valuable property, her whole +attitude towards him would change--or, rather it would revert to her +normal attitude, which was not unlike that of a severe nurse to a +weak-minded child. Even in his agony there had been a certain faint +consolation, due to the entirely unwonted note of respect in the voice +with which she had addressed him since the fall of the curtain. He +shrank from forfeiting this respect, unentitled though he was to it. + +"Yes," he said in his precise voice. "That, of course, is so." + +"Well, then!" said Mrs. Peagrim. + +"But it seems so unnecessary! And think what it would cost." + +This was a false step. Some of the reverence left Mrs. Peagrim's +voice, and she spoke a little coldly. A gay and gallant spender +herself, she had often had occasion to rebuke a tendency to +over-parsimony in her nephew. + +"We must not be mean, Otie!" she said. + +Mr. Pilkington keenly resented her choice of pronouns. "We" indeed! +Who was going to foot the bill? Both of them, hand in hand, or he +alone, the chump, the boob, the easy mark who got this sort of thing +wished on him! + +"I don't think it would be possible to get the stage for a +supper-party," he pleaded, shifting his ground. "Goble wouldn't give +it to us." + +"As if Mr. Goble would refuse you anything after you have written a +wonderful success for this theatre! And isn't he getting his share of +the profits? Directly after the performance you must go round and ask +him. Of course he will be delighted to give you the stage. I will be +hostess," said Mrs. Peagrim radiantly. "And now, let me see, whom +shall we invite?" + +Mr. Pilkington stared gloomily at the floor, too bowed down by his +weight of cares to resent the "we," which had plainly come to stay. He +was trying to estimate the size of the gash which this preposterous +entertainment would cleave in the Pilkington bank-roll. He doubted if +it was possible to go through with it under five hundred dollars; and, +if, as seemed only too probable, Mrs. Peagrim took the matter in hand +and gave herself her head, it might get into four figures. + +"Major Selby, of course," said Mrs. Peagrim musingly, with a cooing +note in her voice. Long since had that polished man of affairs made a +deep impression upon her. "Of course Major Selby, for one. And Mr. +Rooke. Then there are one or two of my friends who would be hurt if +they were left out. How about Mr. Mason? Isn't he a friend of yours?" + +Mr. Pilkington snorted. He had endured much and was prepared to endure +more, but he drew the line at squandering his money on the man who had +sneaked up behind his brain-child with a hatchet and chopped its +precious person into little bits. + +"He is _not_ a friend of mine," he said stiffly, "and I do not wish +him to be invited!" + +Having attained her main objective, Mrs. Peagrim was prepared to yield +minor points. + +"Very well, if you do not like him," she said. "But I thought he was +quite an intimate of yours. It was you who asked me to invite him to +Newport last summer." + +"Much," said Mr. Pilkington coldly, "has happened since last summer." + +"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Peagrim again. "Then we will not include +Mr. Mason. Now, directly the curtain has fallen, Otie dear, pop right +round and find Mr. Goble and tell him what you want." + + +II + +It is not only twin-souls in this world who yearn to meet each other. +Between Otis Pilkington and Mr. Goble there was little in common, yet, +at the moment when Otis set out to find Mr. Goble, the thing which Mr. +Goble desired most in the world was an interview with Otis. Since the +end of the first act, the manager had been in a state of mental +upheaval. Reverting to the gold-mine simile again, Mr. Goble was in +the position of a man who has had a chance of purchasing such a mine +and now, learning too late of the discovery of the reef, is feeling +the truth of the poet's dictum that "of all sad words of tongue or +pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been.'" The electric +success of "The Rose of America" had stunned Mr. Goble; and realizing, +as he did, that he might have bought Otis Pilkington's share dirt +cheap at almost any point of the preliminary tour, he was having a bad +half hour with himself. The only ray in the darkness which brooded on +his indomitable soul was the thought that it might still be possible, +by getting hold of Mr. Pilkington before the notices appeared, and +shaking his head sadly and talking about the misleading hopes which +young authors so often draw from an enthusiastic first-night reception +and impressing upon him that first-night receptions do not deceive +your expert who has been fifteen years in the show-business and +mentioning gloomily that he had heard a coupla the critics roastin' +the show to beat the band ... by doing all these things, it might +still be possible to depress Mr. Pilkington's young enthusiasm and +induce him to sell his share at a sacrifice price to a great-hearted +friend who didn't think the thing would run a week but was willing to +buy as a sporting speculation, because he thought Mr. Pilkington a +good kid, and after all these shows that flop in New York sometimes +have a chance on the road. + +Such were the meditations of Mr. Goble, and, on the final fall of the +curtain, amid unrestrained enthusiasm on the part of the audience, he +had despatched messengers in all directions with instructions to find +Mr. Pilkington and conduct him to the presence. Meanwhile, he waited +impatiently on the empty stage. + +The sudden advent of Wally Mason, who appeared at this moment, upset +Mr. Goble terribly. Wally was a factor in the situation which he had +not considered. An infernal, tactless fellow, always trying to make +mischief and upset honest merchants, Wally, if present at the +interview with Otis Pilkington, would probably try to act in restraint +of trade and would blurt out some untimely truth about the prospects +of the piece. Not for the first time, Mr. Goble wished Wally a sudden +stroke of apoplexy. + +"Went well, eh?" said Wally amiably. He did not like Mr. Goble, but on +the first night of a successful piece personal antipathies may be +sunk. Such was his effervescent good humour at the moment that he was +prepared to treat Mr. Goble as a man and a brother. + +"H'm!" replied Mr. Goble doubtfully, paving the way. + +"What are you h'ming about?" demanded Wally, astonished. "The thing's +a riot." + +"You never know," responded Mr. Goble in the minor key. + +"Well!" Wally stared. "I don't know what more you want. The audience +sat up on its hind legs and squealed, didn't they?" + +"I've an idea," said Mr. Goble, raising his voice as the long form of +Mr. Pilkington crossed the stage towards them, "that the critics will +roast it. If you ask _me_," he went on loudly, "it's just the sort of +show the critics will pan the life out of. I've been fifteen years in +the...." + +"Critics!" cried Wally. "Well, I've just been talking to Alexander of +the _Times_, and he said it was the best musical piece he had ever +seen and that all the other men he had talked to thought the same." + +Mr. Goble turned a distorted face to Mr. Pilkington. He wished that +Wally would go. But Wally, he reflected, bitterly, was one of those +men who never go. He faced Mr. Pilkington and did the best he could. + +"Of course it's got a _chance_," he said gloomily. "Any show has got a +_chance_! But I don't know.... I don't know...." + +Mr. Pilkington was not interested in the future prospects of "The Rose +of America." He had a favour to ask, and he wanted to ask it, have it +refused if possible, and get away. It occurred to him that, by +substituting for the asking of a favour a peremptory demand, he might +save himself a thousand dollars. + +"I want the stage after the performance to-morrow night, for a supper +to the company," he said brusquely. + +He was shocked to find Mr. Goble immediately complaisant. + +"Why, sure," said Mr. Goble readily. "Go as far as you like!" He took +Mr. Pilkington by the elbow and drew him up-stage, lowering his voice +to a confidential undertone. "And now, listen," he said, "I've +something I want to talk to you about. Between you and I and the +lamp-post, I don't think this show will last a month in New York. It +don't add up right! There's something all wrong about it." + +Mr. Pilkington assented with an emphasis which amazed the manager. "I +quite agree with you! If you had kept it the way it was +originally...." + +"Too late for that!" sighed Mr. Goble, realizing that his star was in +the ascendant. He had forgotten for the moment that Mr. Pilkington was +an author. "We must make the best of a bad job! Now, you're a good kid +and I wouldn't like you to go around town saying that I had let you +in. It isn't business, maybe, but, just because I don't want you to +have any kick coming, I'm ready to buy your share of the thing and +call it a deal. After all, it may get money on the road. It ain't +likely, but there's a chance, and I'm willing to take it. Well, +listen, I'm probably robbing myself, but I'll give you fifteen +thousand if you want to sell." + +A hated voice spoke at his elbow. + +"I'll make you a better offer than that," said Wally. "Give me your +share of the show for three dollars in cash and I'll throw in a pair +of sock-suspenders and an Ingersoll. Is it a go?" + +Mr. Goble regarded him balefully. + +"Who told you to butt in?" he enquired sourly. + +"Conscience!" replied Wally. "Old Henry W. Conscience! I refuse to +stand by and see the slaughter of the innocents. Why don't you wait +till he's dead before you skin him!" He turned to Mr. Pilkington. +"Don't you be a fool!" he said earnestly. "Can't you see the thing is +the biggest hit in years? Do you think Jesse James here would be +offering you a cent for your share if he didn't know there was a +fortune in it? Do you imagine...?" + +"It is immaterial to me," interrupted Otis Pilkington loftily, "what +Mr. Goble offers. I have already sold my interest!" + +"What!" cried Mr. Goble. + +"When?" cried Wally. + +"I sold it half-way through the road-tour," said Mr. Pilkington, "to a +lawyer, acting on behalf of a client whose name I did not learn." + +In the silence which followed this revelation, another voice spoke. + +"I should like to speak to you for a moment, Mr. Goble, if I may." It +was Jill, who had joined the group unperceived. + +Mr. Goble glowered at Jill, who met his gaze composedly. + +"I'm busy!" snapped Mr. Goble. "See me to-morrow!" + +"I would prefer to see you now." + +"You would prefer!" Mr. Goble waved his hands despairingly, as if +calling on heaven to witness the persecution of a good man. + +Jill exhibited a piece of paper stamped with the letter-heading of the +management. + +"It's about this," she said. "I found it in the box as I was going +out." + +"What's that?" + +"It seems to be a fortnight's notice." + +"And that," said Mr. Goble, "is what it _is_!" + +Wally uttered an exclamation. + +"Do you mean to say...?" + +"Yes, I do!" said the manager, turning on him. He felt that he had +out-manoeuvred Wally. "I agreed to let her open in New York, and +she's done it, hasn't she? Now she can get out. I don't want her. I +wouldn't have her if you paid me. She's a nuisance in the company, +always making trouble, and she can go." + +"But I would prefer not to go," said Jill. + +"You would prefer!" The phrase infuriated Mr. Goble. "And what has +what you would prefer got to do with it?" + +"Well, you see," said Jill, "I forgot to tell you before, but I own +the piece!" + + +III + +Mr. Goble's jaw fell. He had been waving his hands in another spacious +gesture, and he remained frozen with outstretched arms, like a +semaphore. This evening had been a series of shocks for him, but this +was the worst shock of all. + +"You--what!" he stammered. + +"I own the piece," repeated Jill. "Surely that gives me authority to +say what I want done and what I don't want done." + +There was a silence, Mr. Goble, who was having difficulty with his +vocal chords, swallowed once or twice. Wally and Mr. Pilkington stared +dumbly. At the back of the stage, a belated scene-shifter, homeward +bound, was whistling as much as he could remember of the refrain of a +popular song. + +"What do you mean you own the piece?" Mr. Goble at length gurgled. + +"I bought it." + +"You bought it?" + +"I bought Mr. Pilkington's share through a lawyer for ten thousand +dollars." + +"Ten thousand dollars! Where did you get ten thousand dollars?" Light +broke upon Mr. Goble. The thing became clear to him. "Damn it!" he +cried. "I might have known you had some man behind you! You'd never +have been so darned fresh if you hadn't had some John in the +background, paying the bills! Well, of all the...." + +He broke off abruptly, not because he had said all that he wished to +say, for he had only touched the fringe of his subject, but because at +this point Wally's elbow smote him in the parts about the third button +of his waistcoat and jarred all the breath out of him. + +"Be quiet!" said Wally dangerously. He turned to Jill. "Jill, you +don't mind telling me how you got ten thousand dollars, do you?" + +"Of course not, Wally. Uncle Chris sent it to me. Do you remember +giving me a letter from him at Rochester? The cheque was in that." + +Wally stared. + +"Your uncle! But he hasn't any money!" + +"He must have made it somehow." + +"But he couldn't! How could he?" + +Otis Pilkington suddenly gave tongue. He broke in on them with a loud +noise that was half a snort and half a yell. Stunned by the +information that it was Jill who had bought his share in the piece, +Mr. Pilkington's mind had recovered slowly and then had begun to work +with a quite unusual rapidity. During the preceding conversation he +had been doing some tense thinking, and now he saw all. + +"It's a swindle! It's a deliberate swindle!" shrilled Mr. Pilkington. +The tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles flashed sparks. "I've been made a +fool of! I've been swindled! I've been robbed!" + +Jill regarded him with wide eyes. + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know what I mean!" + +"I certainly do not! You were perfectly willing to sell the piece." + +"I'm not talking about that! You know what I mean! I've been robbed!" + +Wally snatched at his arm as it gyrated past him in a gesture of +anguish which rivalled the late efforts in that direction of Mr. +Goble, who was now leaning against the safety-curtain trying to get +his breath back. + +"Don't be a fool," said Wally curtly. "Talk sense! You know perfectly +well that Miss Mariner wouldn't swindle you." + +"She may not have been in it," conceded Mr. Pilkington. "I don't know +whether she was or not. But that uncle of hers swindled me out of ten +thousand dollars! The smooth old crook!" + +"Don't talk like that about Uncle Chris!" said Jill, her eyes +flashing. "Tell me what you mean." + +"Yes, come on, Pilkington," said Wally grimly. "You've been scattering +some pretty serious charges about. Let's hear what you base them on. +Be coherent for a couple of seconds." + +Mr. Goble filled his depleted lungs. + +"If you ask me...." he began. + +"We don't," said Wally curtly. "This has nothing to do with you. +Well," he went on, "we're waiting to hear what this is all about." + +Mr. Pilkington gulped. Like most men of weak intellect who are preyed +on by the wolves of the world, he had ever a strong distaste for +admitting that he had been deceived. He liked to regard himself as a +shrewd young man who knew his way about and could take care of +himself. + +"Major Selby," he said, adjusting his spectacles, which emotion had +caused to slip down his nose, "came to me a few weeks ago with a +proposition. He suggested the formation of a company to start Miss +Mariner in the motion-pictures." + +"What!" cried Jill. + +"In the motion-pictures," repeated Mr. Pilkington. "He wished to know +if I cared to advance any capital towards the venture. I thought it +over carefully and decided that I was favourably disposed towards the +scheme. I...." Mr. Pilkington gulped again. "I gave him a cheque for +ten thousand dollars!" + +"Of all the fools!" said Mr. Goble with a sharp laugh. He caught +Wally's eye and subsided once more. + +Mr. Pilkington's fingers strayed agitatedly to his spectacles. + +"I may have been a fool," he cried shrilly, "though I was perfectly +willing to risk the money had it been applied to the object for which +I gave it. But when it comes to giving ten thousand dollars just to +have it paid back to me in exchange for a very valuable piece of +theatrical property ... my own money ... handed back to me...!" + +Words failed Mr. Pilkington. + +"I've been deliberately swindled!" he added, after a moment, harking +back to the main motive. + +Jill's heart was like lead. She could not doubt for an instant the +truth of what the victim had said. Woven into every inch of the +fabric, plainly hall-marked on its surface, she could perceive the +signature of Uncle Chris. If he had come and confessed to her himself, +she could not have been more certain that he had acted precisely as +Mr. Pilkington had charged. There was that same impishness, that same +bland unscrupulousness, that same pathetic desire to do her a good +turn however it might affect anybody else which, if she might compare +the two things, had caused him to pass her off on unfortunate Mr. +Mariner of Brookport as a girl of wealth with tastes in the direction +of real estate. + +Wally was not so easily satisfied. + +"You've no proof whatever...." + +Jill shook her head. + +"It's true, Wally. I know Uncle Chris. It must be true." + +"But, Jill...!" + +"It must be. How else could Uncle Chris have got the money?" + +Mr. Pilkington, much encouraged by this ready acquiescence in his +theories, got under way once more. + +"The man's a swindler! A swindler! He's robbed me! I have been robbed! +He never had any intention of starting a motion-picture company. He +planned it all out...!" + +Jill cut into the babble of his denunciations. She was sick at heart, +and she spoke almost listlessly. + +"Mr. Pilkington!" The victim stopped. "Mr. Pilkington, if what you say +is true, and I'm afraid there is no doubt that it is, the only thing I +can do is to give you back your property. So will you please try to +understand that everything is just as it was before you gave my uncle +the money. You've got back your ten thousand dollars and you've got +back your piece, so there's nothing more to talk about." + +Mr. Pilkington, dimly realizing that the financial aspect of the +affair had been more or less satisfactorily adjusted, was nevertheless +conscious of a feeling that he was being thwarted. He had much more to +say about Uncle Chris and his methods of doing business, and it irked +him to be cut short like this. + +"Yes, but I do not think.... That's all very well, but I have by no +means finished...." + +"Yes, you have," said Wally. + +"There's nothing more to talk about," repeated Jill. "I'm sorry this +should have happened, but you've nothing to complain about now, have +you? Good night." + +And she turned quickly away, and walked towards the door. + +"But I hadn't _finished_!" wailed Mr. Pilkington, clutching at Wally. +He was feeling profoundly aggrieved. If it is bad to be all dressed up +and no place to go, it is almost worse to be full of talk and to have +no one to talk it to. Otis Pilkington had at least another twenty +minutes of speech inside him on the topic of Uncle Chris, and Wally +was the nearest human being with a pair of ears. + +Wally was in no mood to play the part of confidant. He pushed Mr. +Pilkington earnestly in the chest and raced after Jill. Mr. +Pilkington, with the feeling that the world was against him, tottered +back into the arms of Mr. Goble, who had now recovered his breath and +was ready to talk business. + +"Have a good cigar," said Mr. Goble, producing one. "Now, see here, +let's get right down to it. If you'd care to sell out for twenty +thousand...." + +"I would _not_ care to sell out for twenty thousand!" yelled the +overwrought Mr. Pilkington. "I wouldn't sell out for a million! You're +a swindler! You want to rob me! You're a crook!" + +"Yes, yes," assented Mr. Goble gently. "But, all joking aside, suppose +I was to go up to twenty-five thousand...?" He twined his fingers +lovingly in the slack of Mr. Pilkington's coat. "Come now! You're a +good kid I Shall we say twenty-five thousand?" + +"We will _not_ say twenty-five thousand! Let me go!" + +"Now, now, _now_!" pleaded Mr. Goble. "Be sensible! Don't get all +worked up! Say, _do_ have a good cigar!" + +"I _won't_ have a good cigar!" shouted Mr. Pilkington. + +He detached himself with a jerk, and stalked with long strides up the +stage. Mr. Goble watched him go with a lowering gaze. A heavy sense of +the unkindness of fate was oppressing Mr. Goble. If you couldn't gyp a +bone-headed amateur out of a piece of property, whom could you gyp? +Mr. Goble sighed. It hardly seemed to him worth while going on. + + +IV + +Out in the street Wally had overtaken Jill, and they faced one another +in the light of a street lamp. Forty-first Street at midnight is a +quiet oasis. They had it to themselves. + +Jill was pale, and she was breathing quickly, but she forced a smile. + +"Well, Wally," she said. "My career as a manager didn't last long, did +it?" + +"What are you going to do?" + +Jill looked down the street. + +"I don't know," she said. "I suppose I shall have to start trying to +find something." + +"But...." + +Jill drew him suddenly into the dark alley-way leading to the +stage-door of the Gotham Theatre's nearest neighbour, and, as she did +so, a long, thin form, swathed in an overcoat and surmounted by an +opera-hat, flashed past. + +"I don't think I could have gone through another meeting with Mr. +Pilkington," said Jill. "It wasn't his fault, and he was quite +justified, but what he said about Uncle Chris rather hurt." + +Wally, who had ideas of his own similar to those of Mr. Pilkington on +the subject of Uncle Chris and had intended to express them, prudently +kept them unspoken. + +"I suppose," he said, "there is no doubt...?" + +"There can't be. Poor Uncle Chris! He is like Freddie. He means well!" + +There was a pause. They left the alley and walked down the street. + +"Where are you going now?" asked Wally. + +"I'm going home." + +"Where's home?" + +"Forty-ninth Street. I live in a boarding-house there." + +A sudden recollection of the boarding-house at which she had lived in +Atlantic City smote Wally, and it turned the scale. He had not +intended to speak, but he could not help himself. + +"Jill!" he cried. "It's no good. I _must_ say it! I want to get you +out of all this. I want to take care of you. Why should you go on +living this sort of life, when.... Why won't you let me...?" + +He stopped. Even as he spoke, he realized the futility of what he was +saying. Jill was not a girl to be won with words. + +They walked on in silence for a moment. They crossed Broadway, noisy +with night traffic, and passed into the stillness on the other side. + +"Wally," said Jill at last. + +She was looking straight in front of her. Her voice was troubled. + +"Yes?" + +Jill hesitated. + +"Wally, you wouldn't want me to marry you if you knew you weren't the +only man in the world that mattered to me, would you?" + +They had reached Sixth Avenue before Wally replied. + +"No!" he said. + +For an instant, Jill could not have said whether the feeling that shot +through her like the abrupt touching of a nerve was relief or +disappointment. Then suddenly she realized that it was disappointment. +It was absurd to her to feel disappointed, but at that moment she +would have welcomed a different attitude in him. If only this problem +of hers could be taken forcefully out of her hands, what a relief it +would be. If only Wally, masterfully insistent, would batter down her +hesitations and _grab_ her, knock her on the head and carry her off +like a caveman, care less about her happiness and concentrate on his +own, what a solution it would be.... But then he wouldn't be Wally.... +Nevertheless, Jill gave a little sigh. Her new life had changed her +already. It had blunted the sharp edge of her independence. To-night +she was feeling the need of some one to lean on--some one strong and +cosy and sympathetic who would treat her like a little girl and shield +her from all the roughness of life. The fighting spirit had gone out +of her, and she was no longer the little warrior facing the world with +a brave eye and a tilted chin. She wanted to cry and be petted. + +"No!" said Wally again. There had been the faintest suggestion of a +doubt when he had spoken the word before, but now it shot out like a +bullet. "And I'll tell you why. I want _you_--and, if you married me +feeling like that, it wouldn't be you. I want Jill, the whole Jill, +and nothing but Jill, and, if I can't have that, I'd rather not have +anything. Marriage isn't a motion-picture close-up with slow fade-out +on the embrace. It's a partnership, and what's the good of a +partnership if your heart's not in it? It's like collaborating with a +man you dislike.... I believe you wish sometimes--not often, perhaps, +but when you're feeling lonely and miserable--that I would pester and +bludgeon you into marrying me.... What's the matter?" + +Jill had started. It was disquieting to have her thoughts read with +such accuracy. + +"Nothing," she said. + +"It wouldn't be any good," Wally went on, "because it wouldn't be +_me_. I couldn't keep that attitude up, and I know I should hate +myself for ever having tried it. There's nothing in the world I +wouldn't do to help you, though I know it's no use offering to do +anything. You're a fighter, and you mean to fight your own battle. It +might happen that, if I kept after you and badgered you and nagged +you, one of these days, when you were feeling particularly all alone +in the world and tired of fighting for yourself, you might consent to +marry me. But it wouldn't do. Even if you reconciled yourself to it, +it wouldn't do. I suppose the cave-woman sometimes felt rather +relieved when everything was settled for her with a club, but I'm sure +the caveman must have had a hard time ridding himself of the thought +that he had behaved like a cad and taken a mean advantage. I don't +want to feel like that. I couldn't make you happy if I felt like that. +Much better to have you go on regarding me as a friend ... knowing +that, if ever your feelings do change, that I am right there, +waiting...." + +"But by that time _your_ feelings will have changed!" + +Wally laughed. + +"Never!" + +"You'll meet some other girl...." + +"I've met every girl in the world! None of them will do!" The +lightness came back into Wally's voice. "I'm sorry for the poor +things, but they won't do! Take 'em away! There's only one girl in the +world for me--oh, confound it! why is it that one always thinks in +song-titles! Well, there it is. I'm not going to bother you. We're +pals. And, as a pal, may I offer you my bank-roll?" + +"No!" said Jill. She smiled up at him. "I believe you would give me +your coat if I asked you for it!" + +Wally stopped. + +"Do you want it? Here you are!" + +"Wally, behave! There's a policeman looking at you!" + +"Oh, well, if you won't! It's a good coat, all the same." + +They turned the corner and stopped before a brown-stone house, with a +long ladder of untidy steps running up to the front door. + +"Is this where you live?" Wally asked. He looked at the gloomy place +disapprovingly. "You do choose the most awful places!" + +"I don't choose them. They're thrust on me. Yes, this is where I live. +If you want to know the exact room, it's the third window up there +over the front door. Well, good night." + +"Good night," said Wally. He paused. "Jill." + +"Yes?" + +"I know it's not worth mentioning, and it's breaking our agreement to +mention it, but you _do_ understand, don't you?" + +"Yes, Wally dear, I understand." + +"I'm round the corner, you know, waiting! And if you ever _do_ change, +all you've got to do is just to come to me and say 'It's all +right!'...." + +Jill laughed a little shakily. + +"That doesn't sound very romantic!" + +"Not sound romantic? If you can think of any three words in the +language that sound more romantic, let me have them! Well, never mind +how they sound, just say them, and watch the result! But you must get +to bed. Good night." + +"Good night, Wally." + +She passed in through the dingy door. It closed behind her, and Wally +stood for some moments staring at it with a gloomy repulsion. He +thought he had never seen a dingier door. + +Then he started to walk back to his apartment. He walked very quickly, +with clenched hands. He was wondering if after all there was not +something to be said for the methods of the caveman when he went +a-wooing. Twinges of conscience the caveman may have had when all was +over, but at least he had established his right to look after the +woman he loved. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +MRS. PEAGRIM BURNS INCENSE + + +"They tell me ... I am told ... I am informed ... No, one moment, Miss +Frisby." + +Mrs. Peagrim wrinkled her fair forehead. It has been truly said that +there is no agony like the agony of literary composition, and Mrs. +Peagrim was having rather a bad time getting the requisite snap and +ginger into her latest communication to the Press. She bit her lip, +and would have passed her twitching fingers restlessly through her +hair but for the thought of the damage which such an action must do to +her coiffure. Miss Frisby, her secretary, an anćmic and negative young +woman, waited patiently, pad on knee, and tapped her teeth with her +pencil. + +"Please do not make that tapping noise, Miss Frisby," said the +sufferer querulously. "I cannot think. Otie, dear, can't you suggest a +good phrase? You ought to be able to, being an author." + +Mr. Pilkington, who was strewn over an arm-chair by the window, awoke +from his meditations, which, to judge from the furrow just above the +bridge of his tortoise-shell spectacles and the droop of his weak +chin, were not pleasant. It was the morning after the production of +"The Rose of America," and he had passed a sleepless night, thinking +of the harsh words he had said to Jill. Could she ever forgive him? +Would she have the generosity to realize that a man ought not to be +held accountable for what he says in the moment when he discovers that +he has been cheated, deceived, robbed--in a word, hornswoggled? He had +been brooding on this all night, and he wanted to go on brooding now. +His aunt's question interrupted his train of thought. + +"Eh?" he said vaguely, gaping. + +"Oh, don't be so absent-minded!" snapped Mrs. Peagrim, not +unjustifiably annoyed. "I am trying to compose a paragraph for the +papers about our party to-night, and I can't get the right phrase.... +Read what you've written, Miss Frisby." + +Miss Frisby, having turned a pale eye on the pothooks and twiddleys in +her note-book, translated them in a pale voice. + +"'Surely of all the leading hostesses in New York Society there can be +few more versatile than Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim. I am amazed every +time I go to her delightful home on West End Avenue to see the scope +and variety of her circle of intimates. Here you will see an +ambassador with a fever....'" + +"With a _what_?" demanded Mrs. Peagrim sharply. + +"'Fever,' I thought you said," replied Miss Frisby stolidly. "I wrote +'fever.'" + +"'Diva.' Do use your intelligence, my good girl. Go on." + +"Here you will see an ambassador with a diva from the opera, +exchanging the latest gossip from the chancelleries for intimate news +of the world behind the scenes. There, the author of the latest novel +talking literature to the newest debutante. Truly one may say that +Mrs. Peagrim has revived the saloon.'" + +Mrs. Peagrim bit her lip. + +"'Salon.'" + +"'Salon,'" said Miss Frisby unemotionally. "They tell me, I am told, I +am informed....'" She paused. "That's all I have." + +"Scratch out those last words," said Mrs. Peagrim irritably. "You +really are hopeless, Miss Frisby! Couldn't you see that I had stopped +dictating and was searching for a phrase? Otie, what is a good phrase +for 'I am told'?" + +Mr. Pilkington forced his wandering attention to grapple with the +problem. + +"'I hear,'" he suggested at length. + +"Tchah!" ejaculated his aunt. Then her face brightened. "I have it. +Take dictation, please, Miss Frisby. 'A little bird whispers to me +that there were great doings last night on the stage of the Gotham +Theatre after the curtain had fallen on "The Rose of America," which, +as everybody knows, is the work of Mrs. Peagrim's clever young nephew, +Otis Pilkington.'" Mrs. Peagrim shot a glance at her clever young +nephew, to see how he appreciated the boost, but Otis' thoughts were +far away once more. He was lying on his spine, brooding, brooding. +Mrs. Peagrim resumed her dictation. "'In honour of the extraordinary +success of the piece, Mrs. Peagrim, who certainly does nothing by +halves, entertained the entire company to a supper-dance after the +performance. A number of prominent people were among the guests, and +Mrs. Peagrim was a radiant and vivacious hostess. She has never looked +more charming. The high jinks were kept up to an advanced hour, and +every one agreed that they had never spent a more delightful evening.' +There! Type as many copies as are necessary, Miss Frisby, and send +them out this afternoon with photographs." + +Miss Frisby having vanished in her pallid way, the radiant and +vivacious hostess turned on her nephew again. + +"I must say, Otie," she began complainingly, "that, for a man who has +had a success like yours, you are not very cheerful. I should have +thought the notices of the piece would have made you the happiest man +in New York." + +There was once a melodrama where the child of the persecuted heroine +used to dissolve the gallery in tears by saying "Happiness? What _is_ +happiness, moth-aw?" Mr. Pilkington did not use these actual words, +but he reproduced the stricken infant's tone with great fidelity. + +"Notices! What are notices to me?" + +"Oh, don't be so affected!" cried Mrs. Peagrim. "Don't pretend that +you don't know every word of them by heart!" + +"I have not seen the notices, Aunt Olive," said Mr. Pilkington dully. + +Mrs. Peagrim looked at him with positive alarm. She had never been +overwhelmingly attached to her long nephew, but since his rise to fame +something resembling affection had sprung up in her, and his attitude +now disturbed her. + +"You can't be well, Otie!" she said solicitously. "Are you ill?" + +"I have a severe headache," replied the martyr. "I passed a wakeful +night." + +"Let me go and mix you a dose of the most wonderful mixture," said +Mrs. Peagrim maternally. "Poor boy! I don't wonder, after all the +nervousness and excitement.... You sit quite still and rest. I will be +back in a moment." + +She bustled out of the room, and Mr. Pilkington sagged back into his +chair. He had hardly got his meditations going once more, when the +door opened and the maid announced "Major Selby." + +"Good morning," said Uncle Chris breezily, sailing down the fairway +with outstretched hand. "How are--oh!" + +He stopped abruptly, perceiving that Mrs. Peagrim was not present +and--a more disturbing discovery--that Otis Pilkington was. It would +be exaggeration to say that Uncle Chris was embarrassed. That +master-mind was never actually embarrassed. But his jauntiness +certainly ebbed a little, and he had to pull his moustache twice +before he could face the situation with his customary _aplomb_. He had +not expected to find Otis Pilkington here, and Otis was the last man +he wished to meet. He had just parted from Jill, who had been rather +plain-spoken with regard to the recent financial operations; and, +though possessed only of a rudimentary conscience, Uncle Chris was +aware that his next interview with young Mr. Pilkington might have +certain aspects bordering on awkwardness and he would have liked time +to prepare a statement for the defence. However, here the man was, and +the situation must be faced. + +"Pilkington!" he cried. "My dear fellow! Just the man I wanted to +see! I'm afraid there has been a little misunderstanding. Of course, +it has all been cleared up now, but still I must insist on making a +personal explanation; really, I must insist. The whole matter was a most +absurd misunderstanding. It was like this...." + +Here Uncle Chris paused in order to devote a couple of seconds to +thought. He had said it was "like this," and he gave his moustache +another pull as though he were trying to drag inspiration out of it. +His blue eyes were as frank and honest as ever, and showed no trace of +the perplexity in his mind, but he had to admit to himself that, if he +managed to satisfy his hearer that all was for the best and that he +had acted uprightly and without blame, he would be doing well. + +Fortunately, the commercial side of Mr. Pilkington was entirely +dormant this morning. The matter of the ten thousand dollars seemed +trivial to him in comparison with the weightier problems which +occupied his mind. + +"Have you seen Miss Mariner?" he asked eagerly. + +"Yes. I have just parted from her. She was upset, poor girl, of +course, exceedingly upset." + +Mr. Pilkington moaned hollowly. + +"Is she very angry with me?" + +For a moment the utter inexplicability of the remark silenced Uncle +Chris. Why Jill should be angry with Mr. Pilkington for being robbed +of ten thousand dollars he could not understand, for Jill had told him +nothing of the scene that had taken place on the previous night. But +evidently this point was to Mr. Pilkington the nub of the matter, and +Uncle Chris, like the strategist he was, re-arranged his forces to +meet the new development. + +"Angry?" he said slowly. "Well, of course...." + +He did not know what it was all about, but no doubt if he confined +himself to broken sentences which meant nothing light would shortly be +vouchsafed to him. + +"In the heat of the moment," confessed Mr. Pilkington, "I'm afraid I +said things to Miss Mariner which I now regret." + +Uncle Chris began to feel on solid ground again. + +"Dear, dear!" he murmured regretfully. + +"I spoke hastily." + +"Always think before you speak, my boy." + +"I considered that I had been cheated...." + +"My dear boy!" Uncle Chris' blue eyes opened wide. "Please! Haven't I said +that I could explain all that? It was a pure misunderstanding...." + +"Oh, I don't care about that part of it...." + +"Quite right," said Uncle Chris cordially. "Let bygones be bygones. +Start with a clean slate. You have your money back, and there's no +need to say another word about it. Let us forget it," he concluded +generously. "And, if I have any influence with Jill, you may count on +me to use it to dissipate any little unfortunate rift which may have +occurred between you." + +"You think there's a chance that she might overlook what I said?" + +"As I say, I will use any influence I may possess to heal the breach. +I like you, my boy. And I am sure that Jill likes you. She will make +allowances for any ill-judged remarks you may have uttered in a moment +of heat." + +Mr. Pilkington brightened, and Mrs. Peagrim, returning with a +medicine-glass, was pleased to see him looking so much better. + +"You are a positive wizard, Major Selby," she said archly. "What have +you been saying to the poor boy to cheer him up so? He has a bad +headache this morning." + +"Headache?" said Uncle Chris, starting like a war-horse that has heard +the bugle. "I don't know if I have ever mentioned it, but _I_ used to +suffer from headaches at one time. Extraordinarily severe headaches. I +tried everything, until one day a man I knew recommended a thing +called--don't know if you have ever heard of it...." + +Mrs. Peagrim, in her rôle of ministering angel, was engrossed with her +errand of mercy. She was holding the medicine-glass to Mr. +Pilkington's lips, and the seed fell on stony ground. + +"Drink this, dear," urged Mrs. Peagrim. + +"Nervino," said Uncle Chris. + +"There!" said Mrs. Peagrim. "That will make you feel much better. How +well _you_ always look, Major Selby!" + +"And yet at one time," said Uncle Chris perseveringly, "I was a +martyr...." + +"I can't remember if I told you last night about the party. We are +giving a little supper-dance to the company of Otie's play after the +performance this evening. Of course you will come?" + +Uncle Chris philosophically accepted his failure to secure the ear of +his audience. Other opportunities would occur. + +"Delighted," he said. "Delighted." + +"Quite a simple, Bohemian little affair," proceeded Mrs. Peagrim. "I +thought it was only right to give the poor things a little treat after +they have all worked so hard." + +"Certainly, certainly. A capital idea." + +"We shall be quite a small party. If I once started asking anybody +outside our _real_ friends, I should have to ask everybody." + +The door opened. + +"Mr. Rooke," announced the maid. + +Freddie, like Mr. Pilkington, was a prey to gloom this morning. He had +read one or two of the papers, and they had been disgustingly lavish +in their praise of The McWhustle of McWhustle. It made Freddie despair +of the New York Press. In addition to this, he had been woken up at +seven o'clock, after going to sleep at three, by the ringing of the +telephone and the announcement that a gentleman wished to see him: and +he was weighed down with that heavy-eyed languor which comes to those +whose night's rest is broken. + +"Why, how do you do, Mr. Rooke!" said Mrs. Peagrim. + +"How-de-do," replied Freddie, blinking in the strong light from the +window. "Hope I'm not barging in and all that sort of thing? I came +round about this party to-night, you know." + +"Oh, yes?" + +"Was wondering," said Freddie, "if you would mind if I brought a +friend of mine along? Popped in on me from England this morning. At +seven o'clock," said Freddie plaintively. "Ghastly hour, what? Didn't +do a thing to the good old beauty sleep! Well, what I mean to say is, +I'd be awfully obliged if you'd let me bring him along." + +"Why, of course," said Mrs. Peagrim. "Any friend of yours, Mr. +Rooke...." + +"Thanks awfully. Special reason why I'd like him to come, and all +that. He's a fellow named Underhill. Sir Derek Underhill. Been a pal +of mine for years and years." + +Uncle Chris started. + +"Underhill! Is Derek Underhill in America?" + +"Landed this morning. Routed me out of bed at seven o'clock." + +"Oh, do you know him, too, Major Selby?" said Mrs. Peagrim. "Then I'm +sure he must be charming!" + +"Charming," began Uncle Chris in measured tones, "is an adjective +which I cannot...." + +"Well, thanks most awfully," interrupted Freddie. "It's fearfully good +of you to let me bring him along. I must be staggering off now. Lot of +things to do." + +"Oh, must you go already?" + +"Absolutely must. Lots of things to do." + +Uncle Chris extended a hand to his hostess. + +"I think I will be going along, too, Mrs. Peagrim. I'll walk a few +yards with you, Freddie, my boy. There are one or two things I would +like to talk over. Till to-night, Mrs. Peagrim." + +"Till to-night, Major Selby." She turned to Mr. Pilkington as the door +closed. "What charming manners Major Selby has. So polished. A sort of +old-world courtesy. So smooth!" + +"Smooth," said Mr. Pilkington dourly, "is right!" + + +II + +Uncle Chris confronted Freddie sternly outside the front door. + +"What does this mean? Good God, Freddie, have you no delicacy?" + +"Eh?" said Freddie blankly. + +"Why are you bringing Underhill to this party? Don't you realize that +poor Jill will be there? How do you suppose she will feel when she +sees that blackguard again? The cad who threw her over and nearly +broke her heart!" + +Freddie's jaw fell. He groped for his fallen eyeglass. + +"Oh, my aunt! Do you think she will be pipped?" + +"A sensitive girl like Jill?" + +"But, listen. Derek wants to marry her." + +"What?" + +"Oh, absolutely. That's why he's come over." + +Uncle Chris shook his head. + +"I don't understand this. I saw the letter myself which he wrote to +her, breaking off the engagement." + +"Yes, but he's dashed sorry about all that now. Wishes he had never +been such a mug, and all that sort of thing. As a matter of fact, +that's why I shot over here in the first place. As an ambassador, +don't you know. I told Jill all about it directly I saw her, but she +seemed inclined to give it a miss rather, so I cabled old Derek to pop +here in person. Seemed to me, don't you know, that Jill might be more +likely to make it up and all that if she saw old Derek." + +Uncle Chris nodded, his composure restored. + +"Very true. Yes, certainly, my boy, you acted most sensibly. Badly as +Underhill behaved, she undoubtedly loved him. It would be the best +possible thing that could happen if they could be brought together. It +is my dearest wish to see Jill comfortably settled. I was half hoping +that she might marry young Pilkington." + +"Good God! The Pilker!" + +"He is quite a nice young fellow," argued Uncle Chris. "None too many +brains, perhaps, but Jill would supply that deficiency. Still, of +course, Underhill would be much better." + +"She ought to marry someone," said Freddie earnestly. "I mean, all rot +a girl like Jill having to knock about and rough it like this." + +"You're perfectly right." + +"Of course," said Freddie thoughtfully, "the catch in the whole dashed +business is that she's such a bally independent sort of girl. I mean +to say, it's quite possible she may hand Derek the mitten, you know." + +"In that case, let us hope that she will look more favourably on young +Pilkington." + +"Yes," said Freddie. "Well, yes. But--well, I wouldn't call the Pilker +a very ripe sporting proposition. About sixty to one against is the +way I should figure it if I were making a book. It may be just because +I'm feeling a bit pipped this morning--got turfed out of bed at seven +o'clock and all that--but I have an idea that she may give both of +them the old razz. May be wrong, of course." + +"Let us hope that you are, my boy," said Uncle Chris gravely. "For in +that case I should be forced into a course of action from which I +confess that I shrink." + +"I don't follow." + +"Freddie, my boy, you are a very old friend of Jill's and I am her +uncle. I feel that I can speak plainly to you. Jill is the dearest +thing to me in the world. She trusted me, and I failed her. I was +responsible for the loss of her money, and my one object in life is to +see her by some means or other in a position equal to the one of which +I deprived her. If she married a rich man, well and good. That, +provided she marries him because she is fond of him, will be the very +best thing that can happen. But if she does not, there is another way. +It may be possible for me to marry a rich woman." + +Freddie stopped, appalled. + +"Good God! You don't mean ... you aren't thinking of marrying Mrs. +Peagrim!" + +"I wouldn't have mentioned names, but, as you have guessed.... Yes, if +the worst comes to the worst, I shall make the supreme sacrifice. +To-night will decide. Good-bye, my boy. I want to look in at my club +for a few minutes. Tell Underhill that he has my best wishes." + +"I'll bet he has!" gasped Freddie. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +DEREK LOSES ONE BIRD AND SECURES ANOTHER + + +It is safest for the historian, if he values accuracy, to wait till a +thing has happened before writing about it. Otherwise he may commit +himself to statements which are not borne out by the actual facts. +Mrs. Peagrim, recording in advance the success of her party at the +Gotham Theatre, had done this. It is true that she was a "radiant and +vivacious hostess," and it is possible, her standard not being very +high, that she had "never looked more charming." But, when she went on +to say that all present were in agreement that they had never spent a +more delightful evening, she deceived the public. Uncle Chris, for +one; Otis Pilkington, for another, and Freddie Rooke, for a third, +were so far from spending a delightful evening that they found it hard +to mask their true emotions and keep a smiling face to the world. + +Otis Pilkington, indeed, found it impossible, and, ceasing to try, +left early. Just twenty minutes after the proceedings had begun, he +seized his coat and hat, shot out into the night, made off blindly up +Broadway, and walked twice round Central Park before his feet gave out +and he allowed himself to be taken back to his apartment in a taxi. +Jill had been very kind and very sweet and very regretful, but it was +only too manifest that on the question of becoming Mrs. Otis +Pilkington her mind was made up. She was willing to like him, to be a +sister to him, to watch his future progress with considerable +interest, but she would not marry him. + +One feels sorry for Otis Pilkington in his hour of travail. This was +the fifth or sixth time that this sort of thing had happened to him, +and he was getting tired of it. If he could have looked into the +future--five years almost to a day from that evening--and seen himself +walking blushfully down the aisle of St. Thomas' with Roland Trevis' +sister Angela on his arm, his gloom might have been lightened. More +probably, however, it would have been increased. At the moment, Roland +Trevis' sister Angela was fifteen, frivolous, and freckled and, except +that he rather disliked her and suspected her--correctly--of laughing +at him, amounted to just _nil_ in Mr. Pilkington's life. The idea of +linking his lot with hers would have appalled him, enthusiastically +though he was in favour of it five years later. + +However, Mr. Pilkington was unable to look into the future, so his +reflections on this night of sorrow were not diverted from Jill. He +thought sadly of Jill till two-thirty, when he fell asleep in his +chair and dreamed of her. At seven o'clock his Japanese valet, who had +been given the night off, returned home, found him, and gave him +breakfast. After which, Mr. Pilkington went to bed, played three games +of solitaire, and slept till dinner-time, when he awoke to take up the +burden of life again. He still brooded on the tragedy which had +shattered him. Indeed, it was only two weeks later, when at a dance he +was introduced to a red-haired girl from Detroit, that he really got +over it. + + * * * * * + +The news was conveyed to Freddie Rooke by Uncle Chris. Uncle Chris, +with something of the emotions of a condemned man on the scaffold +waiting for a reprieve, had watched Jill and Mr. Pilkington go off +together into the dim solitude at the back of the orchestra chairs, +and, after an all too brief interval, had observed the latter whizzing +back, his every little movement having a meaning of its own--and that +meaning one which convinced Uncle Chris that Freddie, in estimating +Mr. Pilkington as a sixty to one chance, had not erred in his judgment +of form. + +Uncle Chris found Freddie in one of the upper boxes, talking to Nelly +Bryant. Dancing was going on down on the stage, but Freddie, though +normally a young man who shook a skilful shoe, was in no mood for +dancing to-night. The return to the scenes of his former triumphs and +the meeting with the companions of happier days, severed from him by a +two-weeks' notice, had affected Freddie powerfully. Eyeing the happy +throng below, he experienced the emotions of that Peri who, in the +poem, "at the gate of Eden stood disconsolate." + +Excusing himself from Nelly and following Uncle Chris into the +passage-way outside the box, he heard the other's news listlessly. It +came as no shock to Freddie. He had never thought Mr. Pilkington +anything to write home about, and had never supposed that Jill would +accept him. He said as much. Sorry for the chap in a way, and all +that, but had never imagined for an instant that he would click. + +"Where is Underhill?" asked Uncle Chris agitated. + +"Derek? Oh, he isn't here yet." + +"But why isn't he here? I understood that you were bringing him with +you." + +"That was the scheme, but it seems he had promised some people he met +on the boat to go to a theatre and have a bit of supper with them +afterwards. I only heard about it when I got back this morning." + +"Good God, boy! Didn't you tell him that Jill would be here to-night?" + +"Oh, rather. And he's coming on directly he can get away from these +people. Ought to be here any moment now." + +Uncle Chris plucked at his moustache gloomily. Freddie's detachment +depressed him. He had looked for more animation and a greater sense of +the importance of the issue. + +"Well, pip-pip for the present," said Freddie, moving toward the box. +"Have to be getting back. See you later." + +He disappeared, and Uncle Chris turned slowly to descend the stairs. +As he reached the floor below, the door of the stage-box opened, and +Mrs. Peagrim came out. + +"Oh, Major Selby!" cried the radiant and vivacious hostess. "I +couldn't think where you had got to. I have been looking for you +everywhere." + +Uncle Chris quivered slightly, but braced himself to do his duty. + +"May I have the pleasure...?" he began, then broke off as he saw the +man who had come out of the box behind his hostess. "Underhill!" He +grasped his hand and shook it warmly. "My dear fellow! I had no notion +that you had arrived!" + +"Sir Derek came just a moment ago," said Mrs. Peagrim. + +"How are you, Major Selby?" said Derek. He was a little surprised at +the warmth of his reception. He had not anticipated this geniality. + +"My dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you," cried Uncle Chris. "But, +as I was saying, Mrs. Peagrim, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" + +"I don't think I will dance this one," said Mrs. Peagrim surprisingly. +"I'm sure you two must have ever so much to talk about. Why don't you +take Sir Derek and give him a cup of coffee?" + +"Capital idea!" said Uncle Chris. "Come this way, my dear fellow. As +Mrs. Peagrim says, I have ever so much to talk about. Along this +passage, my boy. Be careful. There's a step. Well, well, well! It's +delightful to see you again!" He massaged Derek's arm affectionately. +Every time he had met Mrs. Peagrim that evening he had quailed +inwardly at what lay before him, should some hitch occur to prevent +the re-union of Derek and Jill: and now that the other was actually +here, handsomer than ever and more than ever the sort of man no girl +could resist, he declined to admit the possibility of a hitch. His +spirits soared. "You haven't seen Jill yet, of course?" + +"No." Derek hesitated. "Is Jill.... Does she.... I mean...." + +Uncle Chris resumed his osteopathy. He kneaded his companion's +coat-sleeve with a jovial hand. + +"My dear fellow, of course! I am sure that a word or two from you will +put everything right. We all make mistakes. I have made them myself. I +am convinced that everything will be perfectly all right.... Ah, there +she is. Jill, my dear, here is an old friend to see you!" + + +II + +Since the hurried departure of Mr. Pilkington, Jill had been sitting +in the auditorium, lazily listening to the music and watching the +couples dancing on the stage. She found herself drifting into a mood +of gentle contentment, and was at a loss to account for this. She was +happy--quietly and peacefully happy, when she was aware that she ought +to have been both agitated and apprehensive. When she had anticipated +the recent interview with Otis Pilkington, which she had known was +bound to come sooner or later, it had been shrinkingly and with +foreboding. She hated hurting people's feelings, and, though she read +Mr. Pilkington's character accurately enough to know that time would +heal any anguish which she might cause him, she had had no doubt that +the temperamental surface of that long young man, when he succeeded in +getting her alone, was going to be badly bruised. And it had fallen +out just as she had expected. Mr. Pilkington had said his say and +departed, a pitiful figure, a spectacle which should have wrung her +heart. It had not wrung her heart. Except for one fleeting instant +when she was actually saying the fatal words, it had not interfered +with her happiness at all; and already she was beginning to forget +that the incident had ever happened. + +And, if the past should have depressed her, the future might have been +expected to depress her even more. There was nothing in it, either +immediate or distant, which could account for her feeling gently +contented. And yet, as she leaned back in her seat, her heart was +dancing in time to the dance-music of Mrs. Peagrim's hired orchestra. +It puzzled Jill. + +And then, quite suddenly, yet with no abruptness or sense of +discovery, just as if it were something which she had known all along, +the truth came upon her. It was Wally, the thought of Wally, the +knowledge that Wally existed, that made her happy. He was a solid, +comforting, reassuring fact in a world of doubts and perplexities. She +did not need to be with him to be fortified, it was enough just to +think of him. Present or absent, his personality heartened her like +fine weather or music or a sea-breeze--or like that friendly, soothing +night-light which they used to leave in her nursery when she was +little, to scare away the goblins and see her safely over the road +that led to the gates of the city of dreams. + +Suppose there were no Wally...? + +Jill gave a sudden gasp, and sat up, tingling. She felt as she had +sometimes felt as a child, when, on the edge of sleep, she had dreamed +that she was stepping off a precipice and had woken, tense and alert, +to find that there was no danger after all. But there was a difference +between that feeling and this. She had woken, but to find that there +was danger. It was as though some inner voice was calling to her to be +careful, to take thought. Suppose there were no Wally?... And why +should there always be Wally? He had said confidently enough that +there would never be another girl.... But there were thousands of +other girls, millions of other girls, and could she suppose that one +of them would not have the sense to snap up a treasure like Wally? A +sense of blank desolation swept over Jill. Her quick imagination, +leaping ahead, had made the vague possibility of a distant future an +accomplished fact. She felt, absurdly, a sense of overwhelming loss. + +Into her mind, never far distant from it, came the thought of Derek. +And, suddenly, Jill made another discovery. She was thinking of Derek, +and it was not hurting. She was thinking of him quite coolly and +clearly and her heart was not aching. + +She sat back and screwed her eyes tight, as she had always done when +puzzled. Something had happened to her, but how it had happened and +when it had happened and why it had happened she could not understand. +She only knew that now for the first time she had been granted a +moment of clear vision and was seeing things truly. + +She wanted Wally. She wanted him in the sense that she could not do +without him. She felt nothing of the fiery tumult which had come upon +her when she first met Derek. She and Wally would come together with a +smile and build their life on an enduring foundation of laughter and +happiness and good-fellowship. Wally had never shaken and never would +shake her senses as Derek had done. If that was love, then she did not +love Wally. But her clear vision told her that it was not love. It +might be the blazing and crackling of thorns, but it was not the fire. +She wanted Wally. She needed him as she needed the air and the +sunlight. + +She opened her eyes and saw Uncle Chris coming down the aisle towards +her. There was a man with him, and, as they moved closer in the dim +light, Jill saw that it was Derek. + +"Jill, my dear," said Uncle Chris, "here is an old friend to see you!" + +And, having achieved their bringing together, he proceeded to withdraw +delicately whence he had come. It is pleasant to be able to record +that he was immediately seized upon by Mrs. Peagrim, who had changed +her mind about not dancing, and led off to be her partner in a +fox-trot, in the course of which she trod on his feet three times. + +"Why, Derek!" said Jill cheerfully. Except for a mild wonder how he +came to be there, she found herself wholly unaffected by the sight of +him. "Whatever are _you_ doing here?" + +Derek sat down beside her. The cordiality of her tone had relieved, +yet at the same time disconcerted him. Man seldom attains to perfect +contentment in this world, and Derek, while pleased that Jill +apparently bore him no ill-will, seemed to miss something in her +manner which he would have been glad to find there. + +"Jill!" he said huskily. + +It seemed to Derek only decent to speak huskily. To his orderly mind +this situation could be handled only in one way. It was a plain, +straight issue of the strong man humbling himself--not too much of +course, but sufficiently: and it called, in his opinion, for the low +voice, the clenched hand, and the broken whisper. Speaking as he had +spoken, he had given the scene the right key from the start--or would +have done if she had not got in ahead of him and opened it on a note +of absurd cheeriness? Derek found himself resenting her cheeriness. +Often as he had attempted during the voyage from England to visualize +to himself this first meeting, he had never pictured Jill smiling +brightly at him. It was a jolly smile, and made her look extremely +pretty, but it jarred upon him. A moment before he had been half +relieved, half disconcerted: now he was definitely disconcerted. He +searched in his mind for a criticism of her attitude, and came to the +conclusion that what was wrong with it was that it was too friendly. +Friendliness is well enough in its way, but in what should have been a +tense clashing of strong emotions it did not seem to Derek fitting. + +"Did you have a pleasant trip?" asked Jill. "Have you come over on +business?" + +A feeling of bewilderment came upon Derek. It was wrong, it was all +wrong. Of course, she might be speaking like this to cloak intense +feeling, but, if so, she had certainly succeeded. From her manner, he +and she might be casual acquaintances. A pleasant trip! In another +minute she would be asking him how he had come out on the sweepstake +on the ship's run. With a sense of putting his shoulder to some heavy +weight and heaving at it, he sought to lift the conversation to a +higher plane. + +"I came to find _you_!" he said; still huskily but not so huskily as +before. There are degrees of huskiness, and Derek's was sharpened a +little by a touch of irritation. + +"Yes?" said Jill. + +Derek was now fermenting. What she ought to have said, he did not +know, but he knew that it was not "Yes?" "Yes?" in the circumstances +was almost as bad as "Really?" + +There was a pause. Jill was looking at him with a frank and +unembarrassed gaze which somehow deepened his sense of annoyance. Had +she looked at him coldly, he could have understood and even +appreciated it. He had been expecting coldness, and had braced himself +to combat it. He was still not quite sure in his mind whether he was +playing the rôle of a penitent or a King Cophetua, but in either +character he might have anticipated a little temporary coldness, which +it would have been his easy task to melt. But he had never expected to +be looked at as if he were a specimen in a museum, and that was how he +was feeling now. Jill was not looking at him--she was inspecting him, +examining him, and he chafed under the process. + +Jill, unconscious of the discomfort she was causing, continued to +gaze. She was trying to discover in just what respect he had changed +from the god he had been. Certainly not in looks. He was as handsome +as ever--handsomer, indeed, for the sunshine and clean breezes of the +Atlantic had given him an exceedingly becoming coat of tan. And yet he +must have changed, for now she could look upon him quite +dispassionately and criticize him without a tremor. It was like seeing +a copy of a great painting. Everything was there, except the one thing +that mattered, the magic and the glamour. It was like.... She suddenly +remembered a scene in the dressing-room when the company had been in +Baltimore. Lois Denham, duly the recipient of the sunburst which her +friend Izzy had promised her, had unfortunately, in a spirit of +girlish curiosity, taken it to a jeweller to be priced, and the +jeweller had blasted her young life by declaring it a paste imitation. +Jill recalled how the stricken girl--previous to calling Izzy on the +long distance and telling him a number of things which, while probably +not news to him, must have been painful hearing--had passed the vile +object round the dressing-room for inspection. The imitation was +perfect. It had been impossible for the girls to tell that the stones +were not real diamonds. Yet the jeweller, with his sixth sense, had +seen through them in a trifle under ten seconds. Jill came to the +conclusion that her newly-discovered love for Wally Mason had equipped +her with a sixth sense, and that by its aid she was really for the +first time seeing Derek as he was. + +Derek had not the privilege of being able to read Jill's thoughts. All +he could see was the outer Jill, and the outer Jill, as she had always +done, was stirring his emotions. Her daintiness afflicted him. Not for +the first, the second, or the third time since they had come into each +other's lives, he was astounded at the strength of the appeal which +Jill had for him when they were together, as contrasted with its +weakness when they were apart. He made another attempt to establish +the scene on a loftier plane. + +"What a fool I was!" he sighed. "Jill! Can you ever forgive me?" + +He tried to take her hand. Jill skilfully eluded him. + +"Why, of course I've forgiven you, Derek, if there was, anything to +forgive." + +"Anything to forgive!" Derek began to get into his stride. These were +the lines on which he had desired the interview to develop. "I was a +brute! A cad!" + +"Oh, no!" + +"I was. Oh, I have been through hell!" + +Jill turned her head away. She did not want to hurt him, but nothing +could have kept her from smiling. She had been so sure that he would +say that sooner or later. + +"Jill!" Derek had misinterpreted the cause of her movement, and had +attributed it to emotion. "Tell me that everything is as it was +before." + +Jill turned. + +"I'm afraid I can't say that, Derek." + +"Of course not!" agreed Derek in a comfortable glow of manly remorse. +He liked himself in the character of the strong man abashed. "It would +be too much to expect, I know. But, when we are married...." + +"Do you really want to marry me?" + +"Jill!" + +"I wonder!" + +"How can you doubt it?" + +Jill looked at him. + +"Have you thought what it would mean?" + +"What it would mean?" + +"Well, your mother...." + +"Oh!" Derek dismissed Lady Underhill with a grand gesture. + +"Yes," persisted Jill, "but, if she disapproved of your marrying me +before, wouldn't she disapprove a good deal more now, when I haven't a +penny in the world and am just in the chorus...." + +A sort of strangled sound proceeded from Derek's throat. + +"In the chorus!" + +"Didn't you know? I thought Freddie must have told you." + +"In the chorus!" Derek stammered. "I thought you were here as a guest +of Mrs. Peagrim's." + +"So I am--like all the rest of the company." + +"But.... But...." + +"You see, it would be bound to make everything a little difficult," +said Jill. Her face was grave, but her lips were twitching. "I mean, +you are rather a prominent man, aren't you, and if you married a +chorus-girl...." + +"Nobody would know," said Derek limply. + +Jill opened her eyes. + +"Nobody would _know_!" She laughed. "But, of course, you've never met +our Press-agent. If you think that nobody would know that a girl in +the company had married a baronet who was a member of parliament and +expected to be in the Cabinet in a few years, you're wronging him! The +news would be on the front page of all the papers the very next +day--columns of it, with photographs. There would be articles about it +in the Sunday papers. Illustrated! And then it would be cabled to +England and would appear in the papers there.... You see, you're a +very important person, Derek." + +Derek sat clutching the arms of his chair. His face was chalky. Though +he had never been inclined to underestimate his importance as a figure +in the public eye, he had overlooked the disadvantages connected with +such an eminence. He gurgled wordlessly. He had been prepared to brave +Lady Underhill's wrath and assert his right to marry whom he pleased, +but this was different. + +Jill watched him curiously and with a certain pity. It was so easy to +read what was passing in his mind. She wondered what he would say, how +he would flounder out of his unfortunate position. She had no +illusions about him now. She did not even contemplate the possibility +of chivalry winning the battle which was going on within him. + +"It would be very awkward, wouldn't it?" she said. + +And then pity had its way with Jill. He had treated her badly; for a +time she had thought that he had crushed all the heart out of her: but +he was suffering, and she hated to see anybody suffer. + +"Besides," she said, "I'm engaged to somebody else." + +As a suffocating man, his lips to the tube of oxygen, gradually comes +back to life, Derek revived--slowly as the meaning of her words sank +into his mind, then with a sudden abruptness. + +"What?" he cried. + +"I'm going to marry somebody else. A man named Wally Mason." + +Derek swallowed. The chalky look died out of his face, and he flushed +hotly. His eyes, half relieved, half indignant, glowed under their +pent-house of eyebrow. He sat for a moment in silence. + +"I think you might have told me before!" he said huffily. + +Jill laughed. + +"Yes, I suppose I ought to have told you before." + +"Leading me on...!" + +Jill patted him on the arm. + +"Never mind, Derek! It's all over now. And it was great fun, wasn't +it!" + +"Fun!" + +"Shall we go and dance? The music is just starting." + +"I _won't_ dance!" + +Jill got up. + +"I must," she said. "I'm so happy I can't keep still. Well, good-bye, +Derek, in case I don't see you again. It was nice meeting after all +this time. You haven't altered a bit!" + +Derek watched her flit down the aisle, saw her jump up the little +ladder on to the stage, watched her vanish into the swirl of the +dance. He reached for a cigarette, opened his case, and found it +empty. He uttered a mirthless, Byronic laugh. The thing seemed to him +symbolic. + + +III + +Not having a cigarette of his own, Derek got up and went to look for +the only man he knew who could give him one: and after a search of a +few minutes came upon Freddie all alone in a dark corner, apart from +the throng. It was a very different Freddie from the moody youth who +had returned to the box after his conversation with Uncle Chris. He +was leaning against a piece of scenery with his head tilted back and a +beam of startled happiness on his face. So rapt was he in his +reflections that he did not become aware of Derek's approach until the +latter spoke. + +"Got a cigarette, Freddie?" + +Freddie withdrew his gaze from the roof. + +"Hullo, old son! Cigarette? Certainly and by all means. Cigarettes? +Where are the cigarettes? Mr. Rooke, forward! Show cigarettes." He +extended his case to Derek, who helped himself in sombre silence, +finding his boyhood's friend's exuberance hard to bear. "I say, Derek, +old scream, the most extraordinary thing has happened! You'll never +guess. To cut a long story short and come to the blow-out of the +scenario, I'm engaged! Engaged, old crumpet! You know what I +mean--engaged to be married!" + +"Ugh!" said Derek gruffly, frowning over his cigarette. + +"Don't wonder you're surprised," said Freddie, looking at him a little +wistfully, for his friend had scarcely been gushing, and he would have +welcomed a bit of enthusiasm. "Can hardly believe it myself." + +Derek awoke to a sense of the conventions. + +"Congratulate you," he said. "Do I know her?" + +"Not yet, but you will soon. She's a girl in the company--in the +chorus as a matter of fact. Girl named Nelly Bryant. An absolute +corker. I'll go further--a topper. You'll like her, old man." + +Derek was looking at him, amazed. + +"Good Heavens!" he said. + +"Extraordinary how these things happen," proceeded Freddie. "Looking +back, I can see, of course, that I always thought her a topper, but +the idea of getting engaged--I don't know--sort of thing that doesn't +occur to a chappie, if you know what I mean. What I mean to say is, we +had always been the greatest of pals and all that, but it never struck +me that she would think it much of a wheeze getting hooked up for life +with a chap like me. We just sort of drifted along and so forth. All +very jolly and what not. And then this evening--I don't know. I had a +bit of a hump, what with one thing and another, and she was most +dashed sweet and patient and soothing and--and--well, and what not, +don't you know, and suddenly--deuced rummy sensation--the jolly old +scales seemed to fall, if you follow me, from my good old eyes; I +don't know if you get the idea. I suddenly seemed to look myself +squarely in the eyeball and say to myself, 'Freddie, old top, how do +we go? Are we not missing a good thing?' And, by Jove, thinking it +over, I found that I was absolutely correct-o! You've no notion how +dashed sympathetic she is, old man! I mean to say, I had this hump, +you know, owing to one thing and another, and was feeling that life +was more or less of a jolly old snare and delusion, and she bucked me +up and all that, and suddenly I found myself kissing her and all that +sort of rot, and she was kissing me and so on and so forth, and she's +got the most ripping eyes, and there was nobody about, and the long +and the short of it was, old boy, that I said, 'Let's get married!' +and she said, 'When?' and that was that, if you see what I mean. The +scheme now is to pop down to the City Hall and get a licence, which it +appears you have to have if you want to bring this sort of binge off +with any success and vim, and then what ho for the padre! Looking at +it from every angle, a bit of a good egg, what? Happiest man in the +world, and all that sort of thing." + +At this point in his somewhat incoherent epic Freddie paused. It had +occurred to him that he had perhaps laid himself open to a charge of +monopolising the conversation. + +"I say! You'll forgive my dwelling a bit on this thing, won't you? +Never found a girl who would look twice at me before, and it's rather +unsettled the old bean. Just occurred to me that I may have been +talking about my own affairs a bit. Your turn now, old thing. Sit +down, as the blighters in the novels used to say, and tell me the +story of your life. You've seen Jill, of course?" + +"Yes," said Derek shortly. + +"And it's all right, eh? Fine! We'll make a double wedding of it, +what? Not a bad idea, that! I mean to say, the man of God might make a +reduction for quantity and shade his fee a bit. Do the job half +price!" + +Derek threw down the end of his cigarette, and crushed it with his +heel. A closer observer than Freddie would have detected long ere this +the fact that his demeanour was not that of a happy and successful +wooer. + +"Jill and I are not going to be married," he said. + +A look of blank astonishment came into Freddie's cheerful face. He +could hardly believe that he had heard correctly. It is true that, in +gloomier mood, he had hazarded the theory to Uncle Chris that Jill's +independence might lead her to refuse Derek, but he had not really +believed in the possibility of such a thing even at the time, and now, +in the full flood of optimism consequent on his own engagement, it +seemed even more incredible. + +"Great Scott!" he cried. "Did she give you the raspberry?" + +It is to be doubted whether the pride of the Underhills would have +permitted Derek to reply in the affirmative, even if Freddie had +phrased his question differently; but the brutal directness of the +query made such a course impossible for him. Nothing was dearer to +Derek than his self-esteem, and, even at the expense of the truth, he +was resolved to shield it from injury. To face Freddie and confess +that any girl in the world had given him, Derek Underhill, what he +coarsely termed the raspberry was a task so revolting as to be utterly +beyond his powers. + +"Nothing of the kind!" he snapped. "It was because we both saw that +the thing would be impossible. Why didn't you tell me that Jill was in +the chorus of this damned piece?" + +Freddie's mouth slowly opened. He was trying not to realize the +meaning of what his friend was saying. His was a faithful soul, and +for years--to all intents and purposes for practically the whole of +his life--he had looked up to Derek and reverenced him. He absolutely +refused to believe that Derek was intending to convey what he seemed +to be trying to convey; for, if he was, well ... by Jove ... it was +too rotten and Algy Martyn had been right after all and the fellow was +simply.... + +"You don't mean, old man," said Freddie with an almost pleading note +in his voice, "that you're going to back out of marrying Jill because +she's in the chorus?" + +Derek looked away, and scowled. He was finding Freddie, in the +capacity of inquisitor, as trying as he had found him in the rôle of +exuberant fiancé. It offended his pride to have to make explanations +to one whom he had always regarded with a patronizing tolerance as not +a bad fellow in his way but in every essential respect negligible. + +"I have to be sensible," he said, chafing as the indignity of his +position intruded itself more and more. "You know what it would +mean.... Paragraphs in all the papers.... photographs ... the news +cabled to England ... everybody reading it and misunderstanding.... +I've got my career to think of.... It would cripple me...." + +His voice trailed off, and there was silence for a moment. Then +Freddie burst into speech. His good-natured face was hard with +unwonted scorn. Its cheerful vacuity had changed to stony contempt. +For the second time in the evening the jolly old scales had fallen +from Freddie's good old eyes, and, as Jill had done, he saw Derek as +he was. + +"My sainted aunt!" he said slowly. "So that's it, what? Well, I've +always thought a dashed lot of you, as you know. I've always looked up +to you as a bit of a nib and wished I was like you. But, great Scott! +if that's the sort of a chap you are, I'm deuced glad I'm not! I'm +going to wake up in the middle of the night and think how unlike you I +am and pat myself on the back! Ronny Devereux was perfectly right. A +tick's a tick, and that's all there is to say about it. Good old Ronny +told me what you were, and, like a silly ass, I wasted a lot of time +trying to make him believe you weren't that sort of chap at all. It's +no good standing there looking like your mother," said Freddie firmly. +"This is where we jolly well part brass-rags! If we ever meet again, +I'll trouble you not to speak to me, because I've a reputation to keep +up! So there you have it in a bally nutshell!" + +Scarcely had Freddie ceased to administer it to his former friend in a +bally nutshell, when Uncle Chris, warm and dishevelled from the dance +as interpreted by Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim, came bustling up, saving +Derek the necessity of replying to the harangue. + +"Well, Underhill, my dear fellow," began Uncle Chris affably, +attaching himself to the other's arm, "what...?" + +He broke off, for Derek, freeing his arm with a wrench, turned and +walked rapidly away. Derek had no desire to go over the whole thing +again with Uncle Chris. He wanted to be alone, to build up, painfully +and laboriously, the ruins of his self-esteem. The pride of the +Underhills had had a bad evening. + +Uncle Chris turned to Freddie. + +"What is the matter?" he asked blankly. + +"I'll tell you what's the jolly old matter!" cried Freddie. "The +blighter isn't going to marry poor Jill after all! He's changed his +rotten mind! It's off!" + +"Off?" + +"Absolutely off!" + +"Absolutely off?" + +"Napoo!" said Freddie. "He's afraid of what will happen to his blasted +career if he marries a girl who's been in the chorus." + +"But, my dear boy!" Uncle Chris blinked. "But, my dear boy! This is +ridiculous.... Surely, if I were to speak a word...." + +"You can if you like. _I_ wouldn't speak to the man again if you paid +me! But it won't do any good, so what's the use?" + +Slowly Uncle Chris adjusted his mind to the disaster. + +"Then you mean...?" + +"It's off!" said Freddie. + +For a moment Uncle Chris stood motionless. Then, with a sudden jerk, +he seemed to stiffen his backbone. His face was bleak, but he pulled +at his moustache jauntily. + +"_Morituri te salutant!_" he said. "Good-bye, Freddie, my boy." + +He turned away, gallant and upright, the old soldier. + +"Where are you going?" asked Freddie. + +"Over the top!" said Uncle Chris. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I am going," said Uncle Chris steadily, "to find Mrs. Peagrim!" + +"Good God!" cried Freddie. He followed him, protesting weakly, but the +other gave no sign that he had heard. Freddie saw him disappear into +the stage-box, and, turning, found Jill at his elbow. + +"Where did Uncle Chris go?" asked Jill. "I want to speak to him." + +"He's in the stage-box, with Mrs. Peagrim." + +"With Mrs. Peagrim?" + +"Proposing to her," said Freddie solemnly. + +Jill stared. + +"Proposing to Mrs. Peagrim? What do you mean?" + +Freddie drew her aside, and began to explain. + + +IV + +In the dimness of the stage-box, his eyes a little glassy and a dull +despair in his soul, Uncle Chris was wondering how to begin. In his +hot youth he had been rather a devil of a fellow in between dances, a +coo-er of soft phrases and a stealer of never very stoutly withheld +kisses. He remembered one time in Bangalore ... but that had nothing +to do with the case. The point was, how to begin with Mrs. Peagrim. +The fact that twenty-five years ago he had crushed in his arms beneath +the shadows of the deodars a girl whose name he had forgotten, though +he remembered that she had worn a dress of some pink stuff, was +immaterial and irrelevant. Was he to crush Mrs. Peagrim in his arms? +Not, thought Uncle Chris to himself, on a bet. He contented himself +for the moment with bending an intense gaze upon her and asking if she +was tired. + +"A little," panted Mrs. Peagrim, who, though she danced often and +vigorously, was never in the best of condition, owing to her habit of +neutralizing the beneficent effects of exercise by surreptitious +candy-eating. "I'm a little out of breath." + +Uncle Chris had observed this for himself, and it had not helped him +to face his task. Lovely woman loses something of her queenly dignity +when she puffs. Inwardly, he was thinking how exactly his hostess +resembled the third from the left of a troupe of performing sea-lions +which he had seen some years ago on one of his rare visits to a +vaudeville house. + +"You ought not to tire yourself," he said with a difficult tenderness. + +"I _am_ so fond of dancing," pleaded Mrs. Peagrim. Recovering some of +her breath, she gazed at her companion with a sort of short-winded +archness. "You are always so sympathetic, Major Selby." + +"Am I?" said Uncle Chris. "Am I?" + +"You know you are!" + +Uncle Chris swallowed quickly. + +"I wonder if you have ever wondered," he began, and stopped. He felt +that he was not putting it as well as he might. "I wonder if it has +ever struck you that there's a reason." He stopped again. He seemed to +remember reading something like that in an advertisement in a +magazine, and he did not want to talk like an advertisement. "I wonder +if it has ever struck you, Mrs. Peagrim," he began again, "that any +sympathy on my part might be due to some deeper emotion which.... Have +you never suspected that you have never suspected...." Uncle Chris +began to feel that he must brace himself up. Usually a man of fluent +speech, he was not at his best to-night. He was just about to try +again, when he caught his hostess' eye, and the soft gleam in it sent +him cowering back into the silence as if he were taking cover from an +enemy's shrapnel. + +Mrs. Peagrim touched him on the arm. + +"You were saying...?" she murmured encouragingly. + +Uncle Chris shut his eyes. His fingers pressed desperately into the +velvet curtain beside him. He felt as he had felt when a raw +lieutenant in India, during his first hill-campaign, when the +etiquette of the service had compelled him to rise and walk up and +down in front of his men under a desultory shower of jezail-bullets. +He seemed to hear the damned things _whop-whopping_ now ... and almost +wished that he could really hear them. One or two good bullets just +now would be a welcome diversion. + +"Yes?" said Mrs. Peagrim.-- + +"Have you never felt," babbled Uncle Chris, "that, feeling as I feel, +I might have felt ... that is to say might be feeling a feeling...?" + +There was a tap at the door of the box. Uncle Chris started violently. +Jill came in. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said. "I wanted to speak...." + +"You wanted to speak to me?" said Uncle Chris, bounding up. +"Certainly, certainly, certainly, of course. If you will excuse me for +a moment?" + +Mrs. Peagrim bowed coldly. The interruption had annoyed her. She had +no notion who Jill was, and she resented the intrusion at this +particular juncture intensely. Not so Uncle Chris, who skipped out +into the passage like a young lamb. + +"Am I in time?" asked Jill in a whisper. + +"In time?" + +"You know what I mean. Uncle Chris, listen to me! You are not to +propose to that awful woman. Do you understand?" + +Uncle Chris shook his head. + +"The die is cast!" + +"The die isn't anything of the sort," said Jill. "Unless...." She +stopped, aghast. "You don't mean that you have done it already?" + +"Well, no. To be perfectly accurate, no. But...." + +"Then that's all right. I know why you were doing it, and it was very +sweet of you, but you mustn't." + +"But, Jill, you don't understand." + +"I do understand." + +"I have a motive...." + +"I know your motive. Freddie told me. Don't you worry yourself about +me, dear, because I am all right. I am going to be married." + +A look of ecstatic relief came into Uncle Chris' face. + +"Then Underhill...?" + +"I am not marrying Derek. Somebody else. I don't think you know him, +but I love him, and so will you." She pulled his face down and kissed +him. "Now you can go back." + +Uncle Chris was almost too overcome to speak. He gulped a little. + +"Jill," he said shakily, "this is a ... this is a great relief." + +"I knew it would be." + +"If you are really going to marry a rich man...." + +"I didn't say he was rich." + +The joy ebbed from Uncle Chris' face. + +"If he is not rich, if he cannot give you everything of which I...." + +"Oh, don't be absurd! Wally has all the money anybody needs. What's +money?" + +"What's money?" Uncle Chris stared. "Money, my dear child, is ... is ... +well, you mustn't talk of it in that light way. But, if you think you will +really have enough...?" + +"Of course we shall. Now you can go back. Mrs. Peagrim will be +wondering what has become of you." + +"Must I?" said Uncle Chris doubtfully. + +"Of course. You must be polite." + +"Very well," said Uncle Chris. "But it will be a little difficult to +continue the conversation on what you might call general lines. +However!" + + * * * * * + +Back in the box, Mrs. Peagrim was fanning herself with manifest +impatience. + +"What did that girl want?" she demanded. + +Uncle Chris seated himself with composure. The weakness had passed, +and he was himself again. + +"Oh, nothing, nothing. Some trivial difficulty, which I was able to +dispose of in a few words." + +Mrs. Peagrim would have liked to continue her researches, but a +feeling that it was wiser not to stray too long from the main point +restrained her. She bent towards him. + +"You were going to say something when that girl interrupted us." + +Uncle Chris shot his cuffs with a debonair gesture. + +"Was I? Was I? To be sure, yes. I was saying that you ought not to let +yourself get tired. Deuce of a thing, getting tired. Plays the dickens +with the system." + +Mrs. Peagrim was disconcerted. The atmosphere seemed to have changed, +and she did not like it. She endeavoured to restore the tone of the +conversation. + +"You are so sympathetic," she sighed, feeling that she could not do +better than to begin again at that point. The remark had produced +good results before and it might do so a second time. + +"Yes," agreed Uncle Chris cheerily. "You see, I have seen something of +all this sort of thing, and I realize the importance of it. I know +what all this modern rush and strain of life is for a woman in your +position. Parties every night ... dancing ... a thousand and one calls +on the vitality ... bound to have an effect sooner or later, +unless--_unless_," said Uncle Chris solemnly, "one takes steps. Unless +one acts in time. I had a friend--" His voice sank--"I had a very dear +friend over in London, Lady Alice--but the name would convey +nothing--the point is that she was in exactly the same position as +you. On the rush all the time. Never stopped. The end was inevitable. +She caught cold, hadn't sufficient vitality to throw it off, went to a +dance in mid-winter, contracted pneumonia...." Uncle Chris sighed. +"All over in three days," he said sadly. "Now at that time," he +resumed, "I did not know what I know now. If I had heard of Nervino +then...." He shook his head. "It might have saved her life. It _would_ +have saved her life. I tell you, Mrs. Peagrim, that there is nothing, +there is no lack of vitality which Nervino cannot set right. I am no +physician myself, I speak as a layman, but it acts on the red +corpuscles of the blood...." + +Mrs. Peagrim's face was stony. She had not spoken before, because he +had given her no opportunity, but she spoke now in a hard voice. + +"Major Selby!" + +"Mrs. Peagrim?" + +"I am not interested in patent medicines!" + +"One can hardly call Nervino that," said Uncle Chris reproachfully. +"It is a sovereign specific. You can get it at any drug store. It +comes in two sizes, the dollar-fifty--or large--size, and the...." + +Mrs. Peagrim rose majestically. + +"Major Selby, I am tired...." + +"Precisely. And, as I say, Nervino...." + +"Please," said Mrs. Peagrim coldly, "go to the stage-door and see if +you can find my limousine. It should be waiting in the street." + +"Certainly," said Uncle Chris. "Why, certainly, certainly, +certainly." + +He left the box and proceeded across the stage. He walked with a +lissom jauntiness. His eye was bright. One or two of those whom he +passed on his way had the idea that this fine-looking man was in pain. +They fancied that he was moaning. But Uncle Chris was not moaning. He +was humming a gay snatch from the lighter music of the 'nineties. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +WALLY MASON LEARNS A NEW EXERCISE + +I + + +Up on the roof of his apartment, far above the bustle and clamour of +the busy city, Wally Mason, at eleven o'clock on the morning after +Mrs. Peagrim's Bohemian party, was greeting the new day, as was his +custom, by going through his ante-breakfast exercises. Mankind is +divided into two classes--those who do setting-up exercises before +breakfast and those who know they ought to but don't. To the former +and more praiseworthy class Wally had belonged since boyhood. Life +might be vain and the world a void, but still he touched his toes the +prescribed number of times and twisted his muscular body about +according to the ritual. He did so this morning a little more +vigorously than usual, partly because he had sat up too late the night +before and thought too much and smoked too much, with the result that +he had risen heavy-eyed, at the present disgraceful hour, and partly +because he hoped by wearying the flesh to still the restlessness of +the spirit. Spring generally made Wally restless, but never previously +had it brought him this distracted feverishness. So he lay on his back +and waved his legs in the air, and it was only when he had risen and +was about to go still further into the matter that he perceived Jill +standing beside him. + +"Good Lord!" said Wally. + +"Don't stop," said Jill. "I'm enjoying it.' + +"How long have you been here?" + +"Oh, I only just arrived. I rang the bell, and the nice old lady who +is cooking your lunch told me you were out here.' + +"Not lunch. Breakfast." + +"Breakfast! At this hour?" + +"Won't you join me?" + +"I'll join you. But I had my breakfast long ago." + +Wally found his despondency magically dispelled. It was extraordinary +how the mere sight of Jill could make the world a different place. It +was true the sun had been shining before her arrival, but in a flabby, +weak-minded way, not with the brilliance it had acquired immediately +he heard her voice. + +"If you don't mind waiting for about three minutes while I have a +shower and dress...." + +"Oh, is the entertainment over?" asked Jill, disappointed. "I always +arrive too late for everything." + +"One of these days you shall see me go through the whole programme, +including shadow-boxing and the goose-step. Bring your friends! But at +the moment I think it would be more of a treat for you to watch me eat +an egg. Go and look at the view. From over there you can see Hoboken." + +"I've seen it. I don't think much of it." + +"Well, then, on this side we have Brooklyn. There is no stint. Wander +to and fro and enjoy yourself. The rendezvous is in the sitting-room +in about four moments." + +Wally vaulted through the passage-window and disappeared. Then he +returned and put his head out. + +"I say!" + +"Yes?" + +"Just occurred to me. Your uncle won't be wanting this place for half +an hour or so, will he? I mean, there will be time for me to have a +bite of breakfast?" + +"I don't suppose he will require your little home till some time in +the evening." + +"Fine!" + +Wally disappeared again, and a few moments later Jill heard the faint +splashing of water. She walked to the parapet and looked down. On the +windows of the nearer buildings the sun cast glittering beams, but +further away a faint, translucent mist hid the city. There was Spring +humidity in the air. In the street she had found it oppressive: but on +the breezy summit of this steel-and-granite cliff the air was cool and +exhilarating. Peace stole into Jill's heart as she watched the boats +dropping slowly down the East River, which gleamed like dull steel +through the haze. She had come to Journey's End, and she was happy. +Trouble and heartache seemed as distant as those hurrying black ants +down on the streets. She felt far away from the world on an enduring +mountain of rest. She gave a little sigh of contentment and turned to +go in as Wally called. + +In the sitting-room her feeling of security deepened. Here, the world +was farther away than ever. Even the faint noises which had risen to +the roof were inaudible, and only the cosy tick-tock of the +grandfather's clock punctuated the stillness. + +She looked at Wally with a quickening sense of affection. He had the +divine gift of silence at the right time. Yes, this was home. This was +where she belonged. + +"It didn't take me in, you know," said Jill at length, resting her +arms on the table and regarding him severely. + +Wally looked up. + +"What didn't take you in?" + +"That bath of yours. Yes, I know you turned on the cold shower, but +you stood at a safe distance and watched it _show_!" + +Wally waved his fork. + +"As Heaven is my witness.... Look at my hair! Still damp! And I can +show you the towel." + +"Well, then, I'll bet it was the hot water. Why weren't you at Mrs. +Peagrim's party last night?" + +"It would take too long to explain all my reasons, but one of them was +that I wasn't invited. How did it go off?" + +"Splendidly. Freddie's engaged!" + +Wally lowered his coffee cup. + +"Engaged! You don't mean what is sometimes slangily called betrothed?" + +"I do. He's engaged to Nelly Bryant. Nelly told me all about it when +she got home last night. It seems that Freddie said to her 'What ho!' +and she said 'You bet!' and Freddie said 'Pip pip!' and the thing was +settled." Jill bubbled. "Freddie wants to go into vaudeville with +her!" + +"No! The Juggling Rookes? Or Rooke and Bryant, the cross-talk team, a +thoroughly refined act, swell dressers on and off?" + +"I don't know. But it doesn't matter. Nelly is domestic. She's going +to have a little home in the country, where she can grow chickens and +pigs." + +"Father's in the pigstye, you can tell him by his hat, eh?" + +"Yes. They will be very happy. Freddie will be a father to her +parrot." + +Wally's cheerfulness diminished a trifle. The contemplation of +Freddie's enviable lot brought with it the inevitable contrast with +his own. A little home in the country.... Oh, well! + + +II + +There was a pause. Jill was looking a little grave. + +"Wally!" + +"Yes?" + +She turned her face away, for there was a gleam of mischief in her +eyes which she did not wish him to observe. + +"Derek was at the party!" + +Wally had been about to butter a piece of toast. The butter, jerked +from the knife by the convulsive start which he gave, popped up in a +semi-circle and plumped on to the tablecloth. He recovered himself +quickly. + +"Sorry!" he said. "You mustn't mind that. They want me to be +second-string for the "Boosting the Butter" event at the next Olympic +Games, and I'm practising all the time.... Underhill was there, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"You met him?" + +"Yes." + +Wally fiddled with his knife. + +"Did he come over.... I mean ... had he come specially to see you?" + +"Yes." + +"I see." + +There was another pause. + +"He wants to marry you?" + +"He said he wanted to marry me." + +Wally got up and went to the window. Jill could smile safely now, and +she did, but her voice was still grave. + +"What ought I to do, Wally? I thought I would ask you as you are such +a friend." + +Wally spoke without turning. + +"You ought to marry him, of course." + +"You think so?" + +"You ought to marry him, of course," said Wally doggedly. "You love +him, and the fact that he came all the way to America must mean that +he still loves you. Marry him!" + +"But...." Jill hesitated. "You see, there's a difficulty." + +"What difficulty?" + +"Well ... it was something I said to him just before he went away. I +said something that made it a little difficult." + +Wally continued to inspect the roofs below. + +"What did you say?" + +"Well ... it was something ... something that I don't believe he liked ... +something that may interfere with his marrying me." + +"What did you say?" + +"I told him I was going to marry _you_!" + +Wally spun round. At the same time he leaped in the air. The effect of +the combination of movements was to cause him to stagger across the +room and, after two or three impromptu dance steps which would have +interested Mrs. Peagrim, to clutch at the mantelpiece to save himself +from falling. Jill watched him with quiet approval. + +"Why, that's wonderful, Wally! Is that another of your morning +exercises? If Freddie does go into vaudeville, you ought to get him to +let you join the troupe." + +Wally was blinking at her from the mantelpiece. + +"Jill!" + +"Yes?" + +"What--what--what...!" + +"Now, don't talk like Freddie, even if you are going into vaudeville +with him." + +"You said you were going to marry _me_?" + +"I said I was going to marry you!" + +"But--do you mean...?" + +The mischief died out of Jill's eyes. She met his gaze frankly and +seriously. + +"The lumber's gone, Wally," she said. "But my heart isn't empty. It's +quite, quite full, and it's going to be full for ever and ever and +ever." + +Wally left the mantelpiece, and came slowly towards her. + +"Jill!" He choked. "Jill!" + +Suddenly he pounced on her and swung her off her feet She gave a +little breathless cry. + +"Wally! I thought you didn't approve of cavemen!" + +"This," said Wally, "is just another new morning exercise I've thought +of!" + +Jill sat down, gasping. + +"Are you going to do that often, Wally?" + +"Every day for the rest of my life!" + +"Goodness!" + +"Oh, you'll get used to it. It'll grow on you." + +"You don't think I am making a mistake marrying you?" + +"No, no! I've given the matter a lot of thought, and ... in fact, no, +no!" + +"No," said Jill thoughtfully. "I think you'll make a good husband. I +mean, suppose we ever want the piano moved or something.... Wally!" +she broke off suddenly. + +"You have our ear." + +"Come out on the roof," said Jill. "I want to show you something +funny." + +Wally followed her out. They stood at the parapet together, looking +down. + +"There!" said Jill, pointing. + +Wally looked puzzled. + +"I see many things, but which is the funny one?" + +"Why, all these people. Over there--and there--and there. Scuttering +about and thinking they know everything there is to know, and not one +of them has the least idea that I am the happiest girl on earth!" + +"Or that I'm the happiest man! Their ignorance is--what is the word I +want? Abysmal. They don't know what it's like to stand beside you and +see that little dimple in your chin.... They don't know you've _got_ a +little dimple in your chin.... They don't know.... They don't know.... +Why, I don't suppose a single one of them even knows that I'm just +going to kiss you!" + +"Those girls in that window over there do," said Jill. "They are +watching us like hawks." + +"Let 'em!" said Wally briefly. + + +THE END + + * * * * * + + +WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT + + +Jill had money, Jill was engaged to be married to Sir Derek Underhill. +Suddenly Jill becomes penniless, and she is no longer engaged. With a +smile, in which there is just a tinge of recklessness, she refuses to +be beaten and turns to face the world. Instead she went to New York +and became a member of the chorus of "The Rose of America," and Mr. +Wodehouse is enabled to lift the curtain of the musical comedy world. + +There is laughter and drama in _Jill the Reckless_, and the action +never flags from the moment that Freddie Rooke confesses that he has +had a hectic night, down to the point where Wally says briefly "Let +'em," which is page 313. + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jill the Reckless, by +P. G. 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