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diff --git a/5229-h/5229-h.htm b/5229-h/5229-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2de8476 --- /dev/null +++ b/5229-h/5229-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12457 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Felix O'day, by F. Hopkinson Smith + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Felix O'Day, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +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: Felix O'Day + +Author: F. Hopkinson Smith + +Release Date: March 28, 2009 [EBook #5229] +Last Updated: March 8, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FELIX O'DAY *** + + + + +Produced by Duncan Harrod, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + FELIX O'DAY + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By F. Hopkinson Smith + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter XXIII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Chapter I + </h2> + <p> + Broadway on dry nights, or rather that part known as the Great White Way, + is a crowded thoroughfare, dominated by lofty buildings, the sky-line + studded with constellations of colored signs pencilled in fire. Broadway + on wet, rain-drenched nights is the fairy concourse of the Wonder City of + the World, its asphalt splashed with liquid jewels afloat in molten gold. + </p> + <p> + Across this flood of frenzied brilliance surge hurrying mobs, dodging the + ceaseless traffic, trampling underfoot the wealth of the Indies, striding + through pools of quicksilver, leaping gutters filled to the brim with + melted rubies—horse, car, and man so many black silhouettes against + a tremulous sea of light. + </p> + <p> + Along this blinding whirl blaze the playhouses, their wide portals aflame + with crackling globes, toward which swarm bevies of pleasure-seeking + moths, their eyes dazzled by the glare. Some with heads and throats bare + dart from costly broughams, the mountings of their sleek, rain-varnished + horses glittering in the flash of the electric lamps. Others spring from + out street cabs. Many come by twos and threes, their skirts held high. + Still others form a line, its head lost in a small side door. These are in + drab and brown, with worsted shawls tightly drawn across thin shoulders. + Here, too, wedged in between shabby men, the collars of their coats + muffling their chins, their backs to the grim policeman, stand keen-eyed + newsboys and ragged street urchins, the price of a gallery seat in their + tightly closed fists. + </p> + <p> + Soon the swash and flow of light flooding the street and sidewalks shines + the clearer. Fewer dots and lumps of man, cab, and cart now cross its + surface. The crowd has begun to thin out. The doors of the theatres are + deserted; some flaunt signs of “Standing Room Only.” The cars still follow + their routes, lunging and pausing like huge beetles; but much of the wheel + traffic has melted, with only here and there a cab or truck between which + gold-splashed umbrellas pick a hazardous way. + </p> + <p> + With the breaking of the silent dawn, shadowed in a lonely archway or on + an abandoned doorstep the wet, bedraggled body of a hapless moth is + sometimes found, her iridescent wings flattened in the mud. Then for a + brief moment a cry of protest, or scorn, or pity goes up. The passers-by + raise their hands in anger, draw their skirts aside in horror, or kneel in + tenderness. It is the same the world over, and New York is no better and, + for that matter, no worse. + </p> + <p> + On one of these rain-drenched nights, some ten years or more ago, when the + streets were flooded with jewels, and the sky-line aflame, a man in a + slouch hat, a wet mackintosh clinging to his broad shoulders, stood close + to the entrance of one of the principal playhouses along this Great White + Way. He had kept his place since the doors were opened, his hat-brim, + pulled over his brow, his keen eye searching every face that passed. To + all appearances he was but an idle looker-on, attracted by the beauty of + the women, and yet during all that time he had not moved, nor had he been + in the way, nor had he been observed even by the door man, the flap of the + awning casting its shadow about him. Only once had he strained forward, + gazing intently, then again relaxed, settling into his old position. + </p> + <p> + Not until the last couple had hurried by, breathless at being late, did he + refasten the top button of his mackintosh, move clear of the nook which + had sheltered him, and step out into the open. + </p> + <p> + For an instant he glanced about him, seemed to hesitate, as does a bit of + driftwood blocked in the current; then, with a sudden straightening of his + shoulders, he wheeled and threaded his way down-town. + </p> + <p> + At Herald Square, he mounted with an aimless air a flight of low steps, + peered though the windows, and listened to the crunch of the presses + chewing the cud of the day's news. When others crowded close he stepped + back to the sidewalk, raising his hat once in apology to an elderly dame + who, with head down, had brushed him with her umbrella. + </p> + <p> + By the time he reached 30th Street his steps had become slower. Again he + hesitated, and again with an aimless air turned to the left, the rain + still pelting his broad shoulders, his hat pulled closer to protect his + face. No lights or color pursued him here. The fronts of the houses were + shrouded in gloom; only a hall lantern now and then and the flare of the + lamps at the crossings, he alone and buffeting the storm—all others + behind closed doors. When Fourth Avenue was reached he lifted his head for + the first time. A lighted window had attracted his attention—a wide, + corner window filled with battered furniture, ill-assorted china, and + dented brass—one of those popular morgues that house the remains of + decayed respectability. + </p> + <p> + Pausing automatically, he glanced carelessly at the contents, and was + about to resume his way when he caught sight of a small card propped + against a broken pitcher. “Choice Articles Bought and Sold—Advances + Made.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stopped. Something seemed to interest him. To make sure that + he had read the card aright, he bent closer. Evidently satisfied by his + scrutiny, he drew himself erect and moved toward the shop door as if to + enter. Through the glass he saw a man in shirt-sleeves, packing. The sight + of the man brought another change of mind, for he stepped back and raised + his head to a big sign over the front. His face now came into view, with + its well-modelled nose and square chin—the features of a gentleman + of both refinement and intelligence. A man of forty—perhaps of + forty-five—clean-shaven, a touch of gray about his temples, his eyes + shadowed by heavy brows from beneath which now and then came a flash as + brief and brilliant as an electric spark. He might have been a civil + engineer, or some scientist, or yet an officer on half pay. + </p> + <p> + “Otto Kling, 445 Fourth Avenue,” he repeated to himself, to make sure of + the name and location. Then, with the quick movement of a man suddenly + imbued with new purpose, he wheeled, leaped the overflowed gutter, and + walked rapidly until he reached 13th Street. Half-way down the block he + entered the shabby doorway of an old-fashioned house, mounted to the third + floor, stepped into a small, poorly furnished bedroom lighted by a single + gas-jet, and closed the door behind him. Lifting his wet hat from his + well-rounded head, with its smoothly brushed, closely trimmed hair—a + head that would have looked well in bronze—he raised the edge of the + bedclothes and from underneath the narrow cot dragged out a flat, + sole-leather trunk of English make. This he unlocked with a key fastened + to a steel chain, took out the tray, felt about among the contents, and + drew out a morocco-covered dressing-case, of good size and of evident + value, bearing on its top a silver plate inscribed with a monogram and + crest. The trunk was then relocked and shoved under the bed. + </p> + <p> + At this moment a knock startled him. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” he called, covering the case with a corner of the cotton quilt. + </p> + <p> + A bareheaded, coarse-featured woman with a black shawl about her shoulders + stood in the doorway. “I've come for my money,” she burst out, too angry + for preliminaries. “I'm gittin' tired of bein' put off. You're two weeks + behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Only two weeks? I was afraid it was worse, my dear madame,” he answered + calmly, a faint smile curling his thin lips. “You have a better head for + figures than I. But do not concern yourself. I will pay you in the + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard that before, and I'm gittin' sick of it. You'd 'a' been out of + here last week if my husband hadn't been laid up with a lame foot.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear about the foot. That must be even worse than my being + behind with your rent.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's bad enough with all I got to put up with. Of course I don't + want to be ugly,” she went on, her fierceness dying out as she noticed his + unruffled calm, “but these rooms is about all we've got, and we can't + afford to take no chances.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you suppose I would let you?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me what?” + </p> + <p> + “Let you take chances. When I become convinced that I cannot pay you what + I owe you, I will give you notice in advance. I should be much more + unhappy over owing you such a debt than you could possibly be in not + getting your money.” + </p> + <p> + The answer, so unlike those to which she had been accustomed from other + delinquents, suddenly rekindled her anger. “Will some of them friends of + yours that never show up bring you the money?” she snapped back. + </p> + <p> + “Have you met any of them on the stairs?” he inquired blandly. + </p> + <p> + “No, nor nowhere else. You been here now goin' on three months, and there + ain't come a letter, nor nothin' by express, and no man, woman, or child + has asked for you. Kinder queer, don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do think so; and I can hardly blame you. It IS suspicious—VERY + suspicious—alarmingly so,” he rejoined with an indulgent smile. Then + growing grave again: “That will do, madame. I will send for you when I am + ready. Do not lose any sleep and do not let your husband lose any. I will + shut the door myself.” + </p> + <p> + When the clatter of her rough shoes had ceased to echo on the stairs he + drew the dressing-case from its hiding-place, tucked it inside his + mackintosh, turned down the gas-jet, locked the door of the room, + retracing his steps until he stood once more in front of Kling's sign. + This time he went in. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you are still open,” he began, shaking the wet from his coat. + “I hoped you would be. You are Mr. Kling, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dot is my name. Vot can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “I passed by your window a short time ago, and saw your card, stating that + advances were made on choice articles. Would this be of any use to you?” + He took the dressing-case from under his coat and handed it to Kling. “I + am not ready to sell it—not to sell it outright; you might, perhaps, + make me a small loan which would answer my purpose. Its value is about + sixty pounds—some three hundred dollars of your money. At least, it + cost that. It is one of Vickery's, of London, and it is almost new.” + </p> + <p> + Kling glanced sharply at the intruder. “I don't keep open often so late + like dis. You must come in de morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot you look at it now?” + </p> + <p> + Something in the stranger's manner appealed to the dealer. He lowered his + chin, adjusted his spectacles, and peered over their round silver rims—a + way with him when he was making up his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, I don't mind. Let me see,” and opening the case he took out the + silver-topped bottles, placing them in a row on the counter behind which + he stood. “Yes, dot's a good vun,” he continued with a grunt of approval. + “Yes—dot's London, sure enough. Yes, I see Vickery's name—whose + initials is on dese bottles? And de arms—de lion and de vings on him—dot + come from somebody high up, ain't it? Vhere did you get 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “That is of no moment. What I want to know is, will you either pay me a + fair price for it or loan me a fair sum on it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it yours to sell?” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” There was no trace of resentment in his voice, nor did he show + the slightest irritation at being asked so pointed a question. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, I don't keep a pawn-shop. I got no license, and if I had I vouldn't + do it—too much trouble all de time. Poor vomans, dead-beats, + suckers, sneak-thieves—all kind of peoples you don't vant, to come + in the door vhen you have a pawn-shop.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sign said advances made.” + </p> + <p> + “Vich vun?” + </p> + <p> + “The one in the window, or I would not have troubled you.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, dot means anyting you please. Sometimes I get olt granfadder + vatches dot vay, and olt Sheffield plate and tings vich olt families sell + vhen everybody is gone dead. Vy do you vant to give dis away? I vouldn't, + if I vas you. You don't look like a man vot is broke. I vill put back de + bottles. You take it home agin.” + </p> + <p> + “I would if I had any home to take it to. I am a stranger here and am two + weeks behind in the rent of my room.” + </p> + <p> + “Is dot so? Vell, dot is too bad. Two weeks behint and no home but a room! + I vouldn't think dot to look at you.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not either if I had the courage to look at myself in the glass. + Then you cannot help me?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't say dot I can't. Somebody may come in. I have lots of tings + belong to peoples, and ven other peoples come in, sometimes dey buy, and + sometimes dey don't. Sometimes only one day goes by, and sometimes a whole + year. You leave it vid me. I take care of it. Den I get my little Masie—dat + little girl of mine vot I call Beesvings—to polish up all de bottles + and make everyting look like new.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will come in the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but give me your name—someting might happen yet, and your + address. Here, write it on dis card.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that is unnecessary. I will take your word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “But vere can I find you?” + </p> + <p> + “I will find myself, thank you,” and he strode out into the rain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II + </h2> + <p> + In the days when Otto Kling's shop-windows attracted collectors in search + of curios and battered furniture, “The Avenue,” as its denizens always + called Fourth Avenue between Madison Square Garden and the tunnel, was a + little city in itself. + </p> + <p> + Almost all the needs of a greater one could be supplied by the stores + fronting its sidewalks. If tea, coffee, sugar, and similar stimulating and + soothing groceries were wanted, old Bundleton, on the corner above + Kling's, in a white apron and paper cuffs, weighed them out. If it were + butter or eggs, milk, cream, or curds, the Long Island Dairy—which + was really old man Heffern, his daughter Mary, and his boy Tom—had + them in a paper bag, or on your plate, or into your pitcher before you + could count your change. If it were a sirloin, or lamb-chops, or + Philadelphia chickens, or a Cincinnati ham, fat Porterfield, watched over + from her desk by fat Mrs. Porterfield, dumped them on a pair of glittering + brass scales and sent them home to your kitchen invitingly laid out in a + flat wicker basket. If it were fish—fresh, salt, smoked, or + otherwise—to say nothing of crabs, oysters, clams, and the exclusive + and expensive lobster—it was Codman, a few doors above + Porterfield's, who had them on ice, or in barrels, the varnished claws of + the lobsters thrust out like the hands of a drowning man. + </p> + <p> + Were it a question of drugs, there was Pestler, the apothecary, with his + four big green globes illuminated by four big gas-jets, the joy of the + children. A small fellow this Pestler, with a round head and up-brushed + hair set on a long, thin stem of a neck, the whole growing out of a pair + of narrow shoulders, quite like a tulip from a glass jar. + </p> + <p> + And then there were Jarvis, the spectacle man, and that canny Scotchman + Sanderson, the florist, who knew the difference between roses a week old + and roses a day old, and who had the rare gift of so mixing the two + vintages that hardly enough dead stock was left over for funerals + including those presided over by his fellow conspirator Digwell, the + undertaker, who lived over his mausoleum of a back room. + </p> + <p> + And, of course, there were the bakeshop emitting enticing smells, mostly + of currants and burnt sugar, and the hardware store, full of nails and + pocket-knives, and old Mr. Jacobs, the tailor, who sat cross-legged on a + wide table in a room down four stone steps from the sidewalk, and the + grog-shops—more's the pity—one on every corner save Kling's. + </p> + <p> + Hardly a trace is now left of any one of them, so sudden and overwhelming + has been the march of modern progress. Even the little Peter Cooper House, + picked up bodily by that worthy philanthropist and set down here nearly a + hundred years ago, is gone, and so are the row of musty, red-bricked + houses at the lower end of this Little City in Itself. And so are the + tenants of this musty old row, shady locksmiths with a tendency toward + skeleton keys; ingenious upholsterers who indulged in paper-hanging on the + sly; shoemakers who did half-soling and heeling, their day's work set to + dry on the window-sill, not to mention those addicted to the use of the + piano, banjo, or harp, as well as the wig and dress makers who lightened + the general gloom. + </p> + <p> + And with the disappearance of these old landmarks—and it all took + place within less than ten years—there disappeared, also, the old + family life of “The Avenue,” in which each home shared in the + good-fellowship of the whole, all of them contributing to that sane and + sustaining stratum, if we did but know it, of our civic structure—facts + that but few New Yorkers either recognize or value. + </p> + <p> + On the block below Kling's in those other days was the quaint Book Shop + owned by Tim Kelsey, the hunchback, a walking encyclopaedia of knowledge, + much of it as musty and out of date as most of his books; while + overtopping all else in importance, so far as this story is concerned, was + the shabby, old-fashioned two-story house known the town over as the + Express Office of John and Kitty Cleary, sporting above its narrow + street-door a swinging sign informing inquirers that trunks were carried + for twenty-five cents. + </p> + <p> + And not only trunks, but all of the movable furniture up and down the + avenue, and most of that from the adjacent regions, found their way in and + out of the Cleary wagons. Indeed Otto Kling's confidence in Kitty—and + Kitty was really the head of the concern—was so great that he always + refused to allow any of her rivals to carry his purchases and sales, even + at a reduced price, a temptation seldom resisted by the economical + Dutchman. + </p> + <p> + Nor did the friendly relations end here. Not only did Kitty's man Mike + hammer up at night the rusty iron shutters protecting Kling's side window, + clean away the snow before his store, and lend a hand in the moving of + extra-heavy pieces, but he was even known to wash the windows and kindle a + fire. + </p> + <p> + That Mike had delayed or entirely forgotten to hammer up these same iron + shutters when the stranger brought in the dressing-case accounted for the + fact of Otto Kling's shop having been kept open until so late. It also + accounted for the fact that when the same stranger appeared early the next + morning (Mike was tending the store) and made his way to where the + Irishman sat he found him conning the head-lines of the morning paper. + That worthy man-of-all-work, never having laid eyes on him before, at once + made a mental note of the intruder's well-cut English clothes, heavy + walking-shoes, and short brier-wood pipe, and, concluding therefrom that + he was a person of importance, stretched out his hand toward the bell-rope + in connection with the breakfast-room above, at the same time saying with + great urbanity: “Take a chair, or, if yer cold, come up near the stove. + Mr. Kling will be down in a minute. He's up-stairs eatin' his breakfast + with his little girl. I'm not his man or I'd wait on ye meself. A little + fresh, ain't it, after the wet night we had?” + </p> + <p> + “I left a dressing-case here last night,” ventured the intruder. + </p> + <p> + Mike's chin went out with a quick movement, his face expressive of supreme + disgust at his mistake. “Oh, is it that? Somethin' ye had to sell? Well, + then, maybe you'd better call durin' the day.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will wait—you need not ring. I have nothing else to do, and + Mr. Kling may have a great deal. I take it you are from the north of + Ireland, either Londonderry or near there. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm from Lifford, within reach of it. How the divil did ye know?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell from your brogue. How long have you been in this country?” + </p> + <p> + “About five years—going on six now. How long have you been here?” + </p> + <p> + “How long? Well—” Here he bent over the table against which he had + been leaning, selected a cup from a group of china, turned it upside down + in search of the mark, and then, as if he had momentarily forgotten + himself, answered slowly: “Oh, not long—a few months or so. You do + not object to my looking these over?” he asked, this time reversing a + plate and subjecting it to the same scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “No, so ye don't let go of 'em. Fellow come in here last week and broke a + teapot foolin' wid it.” + </p> + <p> + The visitor, without replying, continued his cool examination of the + collection, consisting of articles of different makes and colors. + Presently, gathering up a pair of cups and saucers, he said: “These should + be in a glass case or in the safe. They are old Spode and very rare. Ah, + here is Mr. Kling! I have amused myself, sir, in looking over part of your + stock. You seem to have undervalued these cups and saucers. They are very + rare, and if you had a full set of them they would be almost priceless. + This is old Spode,” he continued, pointing to the cipher on the bottom of + each cup. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, I didn't tink dot ven I bought it.” + </p> + <p> + There was no greeting, no reference to their having met before. One might + have supposed that their last talk had been uninterrupted. + </p> + <p> + “It vas all in a lump, and der vas a soup tureen in de lot—I don't + know vot I did vid it. I tink dat's up-stairs. Mike, you go up and ask my + little girl Masie if she can find dot big tureen vich I bought from old + Mrs. Blobbs who keeps dot old-clothes place on Second Avenue. And you vas + sure about dis china?” + </p> + <p> + “Very sure.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “From the mark.” + </p> + <p> + “Vot's it vorth?” + </p> + <p> + “The cups and saucers would bring about two pounds apiece in London. If + there were a full dozen they would bring a matter of fifteen or twenty + pounds—some hundred dollars of your money.” + </p> + <p> + Kling stepped nearer and peered intently at the stranger. “You give dot + for dem?” + </p> + <p> + The man's eyebrows narrowed. “I am not buying cups at present,” he + answered, with quiet dignity, “but they are worth what I tell you. + </p> + <p> + “And now tell me vot dis tureen is vorth?” he asked as Mike reappeared and + set it on the table, backing away with the remark that he'd go now, Mrs. + Cleary would be wantin' him. Kling moved the relic toward the expert for + closer examination. + </p> + <p> + “Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Kling; I can see it. All I can say is that + the old lady must have known better days and must have been terribly poor + to have parted with it. What, if I may ask, did you pay her for this?” + </p> + <p> + “Two dollars. Vas it too much?” The stranger had suddenly become an + important personage. + </p> + <p> + “No—too little. It is old Lowestoft, and”—here he took the lid + from the dealer's hand—“yes, without a crack or blemish—yes, + old Lowestoft—worth, I should say, ten or more pounds. They are + giving large sums for these things in London. Perhaps you have not made a + specialty of china.” + </p> + <p> + Otto had now forgotten the tureen and was scrutinizing the speaker, + wondering what kind of a man he really was—this fellow who looked + and spoke like a person of position, knew the value of curios at sight, + and yet who had confessed the night before to being behind with his rent + and anxious to sell his belongings to keep off the street. Then the doubt, + universal in the minds of second-hand dealers, arose. “Come along vid me + and tell me some more. Vot is dot chair?” and he drew out a freshly + varnished relic of better days. + </p> + <p> + The man seized the chair by the back, canted it to see all sides of it, + and was about to give his decision when the laughter of a child and the + sharp, quick bark of a dog caused him to pause and raise his head. A white + fox-terrier with a clothes-pin tail, two scissored ears, and two restless, + shoe-button eyes, peering through button-hole lids, followed by a little + girl ten or twelve years of age, was regarding him suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “He won't hurt you,” cried the child. “Come back, you naughty Fudge!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not intend he shall,” said the man, reaching down and picking the + dog up bodily by the scruff of his neck. “What is the matter, old fellow?” + he continued, twisting the dog's head so that he could look into his eyes. + “Wanted to make a meal of me?—too bad. Your little daughter, of + course, Mr. Kling? A very good breed of dog, my dear young lady—just + a little nervous, and that is in his favor. Now, sir, make your excuses to + your mistress,” and he placed the terrier in her arms. + </p> + <p> + The child lifted her face toward his in delight. Most of the men whom + Fudge attacked either shrunk out of his way or replied to his attentions + with a kick. + </p> + <p> + “You love dogs, don't you, sir?” she asked. Fudge was now routing his + sharp nose under her chin as if in apology for his antics. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I do, and I am glad you do—they are sometimes the best + friends one has.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” broke in Kling, “and so am I glad. Dot dog is more as a brudder to + my Masie, ain't he, Beesvings? And now you run avay, dear, and play, and + take Fudge vid you and say 'Good morning' to Mrs. Cleary, and maybe dot + fool dog of Bobby's be home.” He stooped and kissed her, caressing her + cheek with his thumb and forefinger, as he pushed her toward the door, and + again turned to the stranger. “And now, vot about dot chair you got in + your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the chair! I had forgotten that you had asked. Your little daughter + drove everything else out of my head. Let me have a closer look.” He swung + it round to get a nearer view. + </p> + <p> + “The legs—that is, three of them—are Chippendale. The back is + a nondescript of something—I cannot tell. Perhaps from some colonial + remnant.” + </p> + <p> + “Vot's it vorth?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, except to sit upon.” + </p> + <p> + Otto laughed—a gurgling, chuckling laugh, his pudgy nose wrinkling + like a rabbit's. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't dot funny!” and he rubbed his fat hands. “Dot's true. Yes, I make + it myselluf—and five oders, vich vas sold out of a lot of olt + furniture. I got two German men down-stairs puttin' in new legs and new + backs; dey can do anyting. Nobody but you find dot out. I guess you know + 'bout dot china—I must look into dot. Maybe some mens on Fifth + Avenue buy dot china—dey never come in here because dey tink dey + find only olt furniture. And now about dot dressing-case. Don't you sell + it. I find somebody pay more as I can give, and you pay me for my trouble. + I lend you tventy—yes, I lend tventy-five dollars on it. Vill dot be + enough?” + </p> + <p> + “That will be enough for a week, after I pay what I owe.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, den, ven dot is gone ve tink out someting else, don't ve? I look it + all over last night. It is all right—no breaks anyvere. And dot + tventy-five only last you a veek! Vy is dot? Vot board do you pay?” His + interest in the visitor was increasing. + </p> + <p> + “Eight dollars with my meals, whenever my landlady is on time.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight dollars! Dot voman's robbin' you. Eight dollars! She is a skin!” + </p> + <p> + “It was the best I could do,” he replied simply. + </p> + <p> + “Vot does she give you?” + </p> + <p> + “A small bedroom, my coffee in the morning, and my dinner—both + served in my room on a tray.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see; dot's it. She charge about tree dollars for de tray. I find + you someting better as dot. Kitty Cleary has a room—you don't know + Kitty? Vell, you ought to begin right avay. Dot's vun voman you don't ever + see again. She vas in here last night, after you left, looking for her man + Mike. She take you for five dollars a veek, maybe, and you get good tings + to eat and you get Kitty besides, and dot is vorth more as ten dollars. + She lives across de street—you can see one of her vagons—dot + big vite horse is hers, and she love dot horse as much as she love her + husband John and her boy Bobby, all but dot fool dog of Bobby's, she don't + love him. You go over dere and tell her I sent you.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger had relighted his pipe, and was watching the dealer clutching + nervously at his spectacles, pushing them far up on his forehead, only to + readjust them again on his nose. He had begun to detect behind the fat, + round face of the thrifty shopkeeper a certain kindly quality. “And who + may this remarkable lady be, this Mrs. Cleary?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “She ain't no lady. She is better as a hundert ladies—she is joost a + plain vomans who keeps a express office over dere—Cleary's Express. + You don't know it? Vell, dot's your fault. Dot's her boy Bobby outside de + door. He has been up vid his fadder to de Grand Central for some + sideboards and sofas I been buyin'. You vant to look at 'em ven dey git + unloaded. They joost ready to fall to pieces, and if I patch 'em up nobody + don't buy 'em. Vot I do is to leave 'em out on de sidewalk for a veek or + two and let de dirt and rain get on 'em, den somebody come along and say: + 'Dot is genuine. You can see right avay how olt dot is. Dot is because de + bottom is out of de sofas, and de back of de behind of de sideboard is + busted. So den I get fifty dollars more for repairin' my own furniture. + Ain't dot funny? And ven I send it home dey say: 'Oh, ain't dot beautiful! + You ought to have seen dot ven I bought it of old Kling! You vouldn't give + two dollars for it. All he did vas to scrape it down and revarnish it—and + now it is joost as good as new.' Ain't dot funny? Vy, sometimes I have to + holt on to my sides for fear dey vill split vid my laughter, and my two + German mens dey stuff dere fingers in dere mouths so de customers can't + hear. And all de backs new, and de legs made outer udder legs, and de + handles I get across at de hardvare store! Oh, I tell you, it's funny! But + you know all about it. Maybe you vunce keep a place yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “VOT!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I have never been in your line of trade.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, how do you know so much?” + </p> + <p> + “I know very little, but I have always enjoyed such things.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, dot's more funny yet. You vould make a lot of money if you did. Ven + you get someting for nudding you know it—I don't. You see dem—vot + you call 'em—Spodes—and dot tureen, dot—” + </p> + <p> + “Lowestoft?” suggested the stranger, adjusting the mouthpiece of his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dot Lowestoft. If you come in yesterday and say, 'Have you any olt + cups and saucers and olt soup tureens?' I say: 'Yes—help yourselluf. + Take your pick for tventy-five cents each for de cups and saucers.' You + see, I pay nudding and I get nudding. Dot give me an idea! How vould you + like to go round de store vid me and pick out de good vuns? Dot von't take + you long—vait a minute—I give you dat money.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not be of the slightest value, and if you are loaning me the + twenty-five dollars on any other basis than the worth of the + dressing-case, I would rather not take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have finished vid de loan. Vot I say I say.” He thrust his hand + into a side pocket, from which he drew a flat wallet. “And dere is de + money. I give you a receipt for de case.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not want any receipt. I am quite willing you should keep it + until I can either pay this back or you can loan me some more on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, den, I don't vant no receipt for de money. Here comes a customer. + Don't you go yet. I know her. She comes most every day. She only vants to + look around. Such a lot of peoples only vants to look around. Dey don't + know vat dey vant and you never have it. No, it ain't no customer—it's + Bobby.” + </p> + <p> + The door was burst open, and a boy in a blue jumper, his cap thrust so far + back on his head that it was a wonder it didn't fall off, cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Say! One of the sideboards is stuck on the iron railing and we can't get + it furrards or back. Them two weiss-beers ye got down-stairs can't lift + nothin' but full mugs. Send somebody to help.” And the door went to with a + bang. + </p> + <p> + Kling was about to call for assistance when Hans—one of the maligned—shuffled + in from the rear of the store, carrying a wooden image very much in want + of repair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dots awful good you brought dot! Set it here on dis chair—now + you go avay and help vid dem sideboards. See here vunce, mister. You see, + dey vas makin' de altar over new, and one of de mens come to me last week + and he says: 'Mister Kling, come vid me and buy vot ve don't vant. De + school is too small, and some of de children got no place to sit down in. + Ve got to sell sometings, and maybe now ve don't vant dem images.' And so + I buy dem two and some olt vestments dat my Masie make so good as new, vid + patches. Now, vot can I do vid dis—?” + </p> + <p> + Again the door was burst open, shutting off all possibility for + conversation. Bobby's voice had now reached the volume of a fog-horn. + “What do ye take us fur out here—lobsters? Dad and I can't wait all + day. He's got to go down to Lafayette Place for a trunk.” + </p> + <p> + Kling looked at his companion, as if to see what effect the talk had had + upon him, and broke out into a suffocating chuckle. “Dot's vot it is all + day long—don't you yonder I go crazy? First it is sideboards and den + it is vooden saints. Here you, Bobby! Come inside vunce! I vant to ask you + sometings.” + </p> + <p> + “Say the rest, Skeesicks,” returned the boy, eying the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Has your mudder got empty dot room yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep—the shyster got to swearin', and the mother wouldn't stand for + it and she fired him. We ain't keepin' no house o' refuge nor no station + parlor fer bums. Holy Moses! look at the guy that's been robbin' a church! + And see the nose on him all busted! Have ye started them mugs?” + </p> + <p> + Kling cleared the air with his fat hands as the boy made for the door, and + turned to his visitor once more. “Dot boy make me deaf vid his noise like + a fire-engine! Now, vunce more. Vat shall I do vid dis image?” + </p> + <p> + “I give it up,” observed the stranger, passing his hand over the head and + down its side. “I am not very much on saints—wooden ones, I mean. He + seems a good deal out of place here. Why buy such things at all, and why + sell them? But that, of course, is not your point of view. I would send it + back to the good father, if I were you, and have him put it behind the + altar if he is ashamed to put it in front. Holy things belong to holy + places. But I am already taking up too much of your time. Thank you very + much for the money. It comes at an opportune moment. I shall come in once + in a while to see you and, if you are willing, to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't say nudding about Kitty's room. Vait till—oh, dere + you are, you darlin' girl! You mind de store, Masie. Now you come vid me + and I show you de finest vomans you never see in your whole life!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III + </h2> + <p> + Kitty Cleary's wide sidewalk, littered with trunks, and her narrow, + choked-up office, its window hung with theatre bills and chowder-party + posters, all of which were in full view of Kling's doorway, was the + half-way house of any one who had five minutes to spare; it was inside its + walls that closer greetings awaited those who, even with the thinnest of + excuses, made bold to avail themselves of her hospitality. Drivers from + the livery-stable next door, where Kitty kept her own two horses; the + policeman on the beat; the night-watchman from the big store on 28th + Street, just off duty, or just going on; the newsman in the early morning, + who would use her benches on which to rearrange his deliveries—all + were welcome as long as they behaved themselves. When they did not—and + once or twice such a thing had occurred—she would throw wide the + door and, with a quick movement of her right thumb, order them out, a look + in her eye convincing the culprits at once that they might better obey. + </p> + <p> + Never a day passed but there was a pot of coffee simmering away at the + back of the kitchen stove. Indeed, hot coffee was Kitty's standby. Many a + night when she was up late poring over her delivery book, getting ready + for the next day's work, a carriage or cab would drive into the + livery-stable next door, and she would send her husband out to bring in + the coachman. + </p> + <p> + “Half froze, he is, waitin' outside Sherry's or Delmonico's, and nobody + thinkin' of what he suffers. Go, git him, John, dear, and I'll stir up the + fire. They ought to be ashamed of themselves, dancin' till God knows when—and + here it is two o'clock and a string of cabs out in the cold. Thank ye, + John. In with ye, my lad, and get something to warm ye up,” and then the + rosy-cheeked, deep-breasted, cheery little woman—she was under forty—her + eyes the brighter for her thought, would begin pulling down cups and + saucers from her dresser, making ready not only for the “lad,” but for + John and herself—and anybody else who happened to be within call. + </p> + <p> + The hospitalities of her family sitting-room, opening out of the kitchen, + were reserved for her intimates. These she welcomed at any hour of the day + or night, from sunrise to sunset, and even as late as two in the morning, + if either business or pleasure necessitated such hours. + </p> + <p> + Tim Kelsey, the hunchback, often dropped in. Otto Kling, after Masie was + abed; Digwell, the undertaker, quite a jolly fellow during off hours; + Codman and Porterfield, with their respective wives; and, most welcome of + all, Father Cruse, of St. Barnabas's Church around the corner, the trusted + shepherd of “The Avenue”—a clear-skinned, well-built man, barely + forty, whose muscular body just filled his black cassock so that it + neither fell in folds nor wrinkled crosswise, and whose fresh, ruddy face + was an index of the humane, kindly, helpful life that he led. For him + Kitty could never do enough. + </p> + <p> + The office, sitting-room, and kitchen, however, were not all that the + expressman and his wife possessed in the way of accommodations. Up-stairs + were two front bedrooms, one occupied by John and Kitty, and the other by + their boy Bobby, while in the extreme rear, over the kitchen, was a single + room which was let to any respectable man who could pay for it. These + rooms were all reached by a staircase ascending from a narrow hall entered + by a separate street-door adjoining that of the office. The door and + staircase were convenient for the lodger wishing to stumble up to bed + without disturbing his hosts—an event, however, that seldom + happened, as Kitty was generally the last person awake in her house. + </p> + <p> + The horses, as has been said, were kept in the livery-stable next door—the + brown mare, a recent purchase, and the old white horse, Jim, the pride of + Kitty's heart, in a special stall. The wagons were either backed in the + shed in the rear or left overnight close to the curb, with chains on the + hind wheels. This was contrary to regulations, and would have been so + considered but for the fact that the captain of the precinct often got his + coffee in Kitty's back kitchen, as did Tom McGinniss, the big policeman, + whose beat reached nearly to the tunnel, both men soothing their + consciences with the argument that Kitty's job lasted so late and began so + early, sometimes a couple of hours or so before daylight, that it was not + worth while to bother about her wagons, when everybody else was in bed, or + ought to be. + </p> + <p> + She was smoothing old Jim's neck, crooning over him, talking to him in her + motherly way, telling him what a ruffian he was and how ashamed she was of + him for getting the hair worn off under his collar, and he a horse old + enough to know better, Bobby's “Toodles,” an animated doormat of a dog, + sniffing at her skirt, when Otto and his friend hove in sight. + </p> + <p> + “The top of the mornin' to ye, Otto Kling, and ye never see a better and a + finer. And what can I do for ye?—for ye wouldn't be lavin' them + gimcracks of yours this time O'day unless there was somethin' up.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't got nudding you can do for me, Kitty. It's dis gentlemans + wants someting—and so I bring him over.” + </p> + <p> + “That's mighty kind of ye, Otto—wait till I get me book. Careful, + Mike.” The Irishman had just dumped a trunk on the sidewalk, ready to be + loaded on Jim's wagon. “And now,” continued his mistress, “go to the + office and bring me my order-book—where'll I go for your baggage, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a matter I will talk about later.” He had taken her all in with a + rapid glance—her rosy, laughing face, her head covered by a + close-fitting hood, the warm shawl crossed over her full bosom and knotted + in the back, short skirt, stout shoes, and gray yarn stockings. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care where it is—Hoboken, Brooklyn—I'll get it. Why, + we got a trunk last week clear from Yonkers!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't a doubt of it, my good woman”—he was still absorbed in + the contemplation of her perfect health and the air of breezy competency + flowing out from her, making even the morning air seem more exhilarating—“but + you may not want to go for my two trunks.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” She was serious now, her brows knitting, trying to solve his + meaning. + </p> + <p> + Kling shuffled up alongside. “It's de room he vants, Kitty. I been tellin' + him about it. Bobby says dot odder man skipped an' you don't got nobody + now. + </p> + <p> + “Skipped! I threw him out, me and John, for swearin' every time he stubbed + his toe on the stairs,” and up went her strong arms in illustration. “And + it isn't yer trunks, but me room. Who might ye be wantin' it for?” She had + begun to weigh him carefully in return. Up to this moment he had been to + her merely the mouthpiece of an order, to be exchanged later for a card, + or slip of paper, or a brass check. Now he became a personality. She swept + him from head to foot with one of her “sizing-up” examinations, noticing + the refinement and thoughtfulness of his clean-shaven face, the white + teeth, and the careful trimming of his hair, and the way it grew down on + his temples, forming a small quarter whisker. + </p> + <p> + She noted, too, how the muscles of his face had been tightened as if some + effort at self-control had set them into a mask, the real man lying behind + his kindly eyes, despite the quick flash that escaped from them now and + then. The inspection over—and it had occupied some seconds of time—she + renewed the inquiry in a more searching tone, as if she had not heard him + aright at first. “And who did ye say wanted me room?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but who for?” + </p> + <p> + “For myself.” + </p> + <p> + “What! To live in?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so—I certainly do not want it to die in.” A quiet smile + trembled for an instant on his lips, momentarily lightening an expression + of extreme reserve. + </p> + <p> + “You won't do no dyin' if I can help it—but ye don't know what kind + a room it is. It's not mor'n twice as big as that wagon. And ye want it + for yourself? Well, ye don't look it!” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “And it's only five dollars a week, and all ye want to eat—all we + can give ye.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad it is not more. I may not be able to pay that for very long, + but I will pay the first week in advance, and I will pay the next one in + the same way and leave when my money is gone. Can I see the room?” + </p> + <p> + Again she studied him. This time it was the gray waistcoat, the + well-ironed shirt and collar, English scarf, and the blackthorn stick + which he carried balanced in the hollow of his arm. If he had been in + overalls she would not have hesitated an instant, but she saw that this + man was not of her class, nor of any other class about her. “I don't know + whether ye can or not,” came the frank reply. “I'm thinkin' about it. You + don't look as if ye were flat broke. If you're goin' to take me room, I + don't want to be watchin' ye, and I won't! Once we know ye're clean and + decent, ye can have the run of the place and welcome to it. We had one + dead-beat here last month, and that's enough. Out with it now! How is it + that a”—she hesitated an instant—“yes, a gentleman like you + wants to live over an express office and eat what we can give ye?” + </p> + <p> + He made a slight movement with his right hand in acknowledgment of the + class distinction and answered in a calm, straightforward way: “You have + put it quite correctly. I am, as you are pleased to state it, flat broke—quite + flat.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, how will ye pay me?” Her question, a certain curiosity tinged + by a growing interest in for all its directness, implied no suspicion—but + rather the man. + </p> + <p> + “I have just borrowed twenty-five dollars from Mr. Kling on something + which, for the present, I can do without.” + </p> + <p> + “Pawned it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly. Mr. Kling will explain.” + </p> + <p> + “It vas dot dressin'-case, Kitty, vat I showed you last night—de vun + vid dem bottles vid de silver tops—and dey are real—I found + dot out after you vent avay.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty's glance softened, and her voice fell to a sympathetic tone. “Oh, + that was yours, was it? I might have known I was right about ye when I + first see ye. Ye are a gentleman, unless ye are a thief, and I don't + belave that—nor nobody can make me belave it.” + </p> + <p> + Once more his hand was raised, and a smile flashed from his eyes and as + quickly died out. + </p> + <p> + “That is very good of you, Mrs. Cleary. No, I am not a thief. And now + about the room. Can I see it? But, before you answer, let me tell you that + I have only these twenty-five dollars on which I can lay my hands. Some of + this I owe to my landlady. The balance I am quite willing to turn over to + you, and when it is all gone I will move somewhere else.” He drew a silver + watch from his pocket. “You must decide at once; it is getting late and I + must be moving on.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty squared herself, her hands on her hips—a favorite gesture when + her mind was fully made up—looked straight at the speaker as if to + reply, then suddenly catching sight of a strapping-looking fellow in blue + overalls, a trunk on one shoulder, a carpetbag in his hand, called out: + “John, dear, come here! I want ye. Here, Mike! You and Bobby get that + steamer baggage out on the sidewalk, and don't be slack about it, for it + goes to Hoboken, and there may be a block in the river and the ferry-boats + behind time. Wait, I'll lend ye a hand.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll lend nothing, Kitty Cleary! Get out of my way,” came her husband's + hearty answer. “Ye hurt yer back last week. There's men enough round here + to—stop it, I tell ye!” and he loosened her fingers from the + lifting-strap. + </p> + <p> + “I can hist the two of ye, John! Go along wid ye!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Kitty, darlin'—let go of it,” and with a twist of his hand and + lurch of his shoulder John shot the trunk over the edge of the wagon, + tossed the bag after it, and joined the group, the stranger absorbed in + watching the husband and wife. + </p> + <p> + “And now the trunk's in, what's it you want, Kitty?” asked John squeezing + her plump arm, as if in compensation for having had his way. + </p> + <p> + “John, dear, here's a gentleman who—what's your name?—ye + haven't told me, or if ye did I've forgot it.” + </p> + <p> + “Felix O'Day.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're Irish?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I am—at least, my ancestors were.” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid! Ye ought to be glad. I'm Irish, and so is my John here, and + Bobby, and Father Cruse, and Tom McGinniss, the policeman, and the captain + up at the station-house—we're all Irish, except Otto, who is as + Dutch as sauerkraut! But where was I? Oh, yes! Now, John, dear, this + gentleman is on his uppers, he says, and wants to hire our room and eat + what we can give him.” + </p> + <p> + The expressman, who stood six feet in his stockings, looked first at his + wife, then at Kling, and then at the applicant, and broke out into a loud + guffaw. “It's a joke, Kitty. Don't let 'em fool ye. Go on, Otto; try it + somewhere else! It's my busy day. Here, Mike!” + </p> + <p> + “You drop Mike and listen, John! It's no joke—not for Mr. O'Day. You + take him up-stairs and show him what we got, and down into the kitchen and + the sitting-room and out into the yard. Come, now; hurry! Go 'long with + him, Mr. O'Day, and come back to me when ye are through and tell me what + you think of it all. And, John, take Toodles with you and lock him up. + First thing I know I'll be tramplin' on him. Get out, you varmint!” + </p> + <p> + John grabbed the wad of matted hair midway between his floppy tail and + perpetually moist nose, controlled his own features into a semblance of + seriousness, and turned to O'Day. “This way, sir—I thought it was + one of Otto's jokes. The room is only about as big as half a box car, but + it's got runnin' water in the hall, and Kitty keeps it mighty clean. As to + the grub, it ain't what you are accustomed to, maybe, but it's what we + have ourselves, and neither of us is starvin', as ye can see,” and he + thumped his chest. “No, not the big door, sir; the little one. And there's + a key, too, for ye, when ye're out late—and ye will be out late, or + I miss my guess,” and out rolled another laugh. + </p> + <p> + Kitty looked after the two until they disappeared through the smaller + door, then turned and faced Kling. “I know just what's happened, Otto—a + baby a month old could see it all. That man is up against it for the first + time. He'd rather die than beg, and he'll keep on sellin' his traps until + there's nothin' left but the clothes he stands in. He may be a duke, for + all ye know, or maybe only a plain Irish gentleman come to grief. Them + bottles ye showed me last night had arms engraved on 'em, and his + initials. I noticed partic'lar, for I've seen them things before. My + father, when he was young, was second groom for a lord and used to tell me + about the silver in the house and the arms on the sides of the carriages. + What he's left home for the dear God only knows; but it will come out, and + when it does it won't be what anybody thinks. And he's got a fine way wid + him, and a clear look out of his eye, and I'll bet ye he's tellin' the + truth and all of it. Here they come now, and I'm glad they've got rid of + that rag baby of Bobby's.” She turned to her husband. “And, John, dear, + don't forget that sewing-machine—oh, yes, I see, you've got it in + the wagon—go on wid ye, then!—Well, Mr. O'Day, how is it? + Purty small and cramped, ain't it? And there's a chair missin' that I took + downstairs, which I'll put back. And there's a cotton cover belongs to the + table. Won't suit, will it?” and a shade of disappointment crossed her + face. + </p> + <p> + “The room will answer very well, Mrs. Cleary. I can see the work of your + deft hands in every corner. I have been living in one much larger, but + this is more like a home. And do I get my breakfast and dinner and the + room for the pound—I mean for the five dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “You do, and welcome, and somethin' in the middle of the day if ye happen + to be around and hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “And can I move in to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye can.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will go down and pay what I owe and see about getting my boxes. + And now, here is your money,” and he held out two five-dollar bills. + </p> + <p> + Kitty stretched her two hands far behind her back, her brown holland + over-apron curving inward with the movement. “I won't touch it; ye can + have the room and ye can keep your money. When I want it I'll ask fer it. + Now tell me where I can get your trunks. Mike will go fer 'em and bring + 'em back.” + </p> + <p> + A new, strange look shone out from the keen, searching eyes of O'Day. His + interest in the woman had deepened. “And you have no misgivings and are + sure you will get your rent?” + </p> + <p> + “Just as sure as I am that me name is Kitty Cleary, and that is not + altogether because you're an Irishman but because ye are a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + This time O'Day made her a little bow, the lines of his face softening, + his eyes sparkling with sudden humor at her speech. He stepped forward, + called to the man who was still handling the luggage, and, in the tone of + one ordering his groom, said: “Here, Mike!—Did you say his name was + Mike?—Go, if you please, to this address, just below Union Square-I + will write it on a card—any time to-day after six o'clock. I will + meet you there and show you the trunks—there are two of them.” Then + he turned to Otto, still standing by, a silent and absorbed spectator. + </p> + <p> + “I have also to thank you, Mr. Kling. It was very kind of you, and I am + sure I shall be very happy here. After I am settled I shall come over and + see whether I can be of some service to you in going through your stock. + There may be some other things that are valuable which you have mislaid. + And then, again, I should like to see something more of your little + daughter—she is very lovable, and so is her dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, vy don't you come now? Masie don't go to school to-day, and I keep + her in de shop. I been tinkin' since you and Kitty been talkin'—Kitty + don't make no mistakes: vot Kitty says goes. Look here, Kitty, vun minute—come + close vunce—I vant to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day, who had been about to give a reason why he could not “come now,” + and who had halted in his reply in order to hunt his pockets for a card on + which to write his address, hearing Kling's last words, withdrew to the + office in search of both paper and pencil. + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, Kitty! Dot mans is a vunderful man—de most VUNDERFUL + man I have seen since I been in 445. You know dem cups and saucers vat I + bought off dot olt vomans who came up from Baltimore? Do you know dot two + of 'em is vorth more as ten dollars? He find dot out joost as soon as he + pick 'em up, and he find out about my chairs, and vich vas fakes and vich + vas goot. Vot you tink of my givin' him a job takin' my old cups and my + soup tureens and stuff and go sell 'em someveres? I don't got nobody since + dot tam fool of a Svede go avay. Vat you tink?” + </p> + <p> + “He can have my room—that's what I think! You heard what I said to + him! That's all the answer you'll get out of me, Otto Kling.” + </p> + <p> + “An' you don't tink dot he'd git avay vid de stuff und ve haf to hunt up + or down Second Avenue in the pawn-shops to git 'em back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't!” + </p> + <p> + “Den, by golly, I take him on, und I gif him every veek vat he pay you in + board.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty broke into one of her derisive laughs. “YOU WILL! Ain't that good of + ye? Ye'll give him enough to starve on, that's what it is. Ye ought to be + ashamed of yourself, Otto Kling!” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, but I don't know vat he is vurth yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, tell him so, but don't cheat him out of everything but his + bare board; and that's what ye'd be doin'. Ye know he's pawnin' his stuff; + ye know ye got five times the worth of your money in the dressing-case he + give up to ye! See here, Otto! Before ye offer him that five dollars a + week ye better get on the other side of big John there, where ye'll be + safe, and holler it at him over them trunks, or ye'll find yourself flat + on your back.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Kitty, all right! Don't git oxcited. I didn't mean nudding. I + do just vat you say. I gif him more. Oh! Here you are! Mr. O'Day, vud you + let me speak to you vun minute? Suppose dot I ask you to come into my shop + as a clerk, like, and pay you vat I can—of course, you are new und + it vill take some time, but I can pay sometings—vud you come?” + </p> + <p> + O'Day gave an involuntary start and from under his heavy brows there shot + a keen, questioning glance. “What would you want me to do?” he asked + evenly. + </p> + <p> + “Vell—vait on de customers, and look over de stock, and buy tings + ven dey come in.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly cannot be serious, Mr. Kling. You know nothing about me. I + am an entire stranger and must continue to be. With the exception of my + landlady, who, if she knows my name, forgets it every time she comes up + for her rent, there is not a human being in New York to whom I could apply + for a reference. Are you accustomed to pick up strangers out of the street + and take them into your shops—and your homes?” he added, smiling at + Kitty, who had been following the conversation closely. + </p> + <p> + “But you is a different kind of a mans.” + </p> + <p> + No answer came. The man was lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + “Ye'd better think it over, sir,” said Kitty, laying a strong, persuasive + hand on his wrist. “It's near by, and ye can have your meals early or late + as ye plaze, and the work ain't hard. My Mike does the liftin' and two big + fat Dutchies helps.” + </p> + <p> + “But I know nothing about the business, Mrs. Cleary—nothing about + any business, for that matter. I should only be a disappointment to Mr. + Kling. I would rather keep his friendship and look elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty relaxed her hold of his wrist. “Then ye have been lookin' for work?” + she asked. The inquiry sprang hot from her heart. + </p> + <p> + “I have not, so far, but I shall have to very soon.” + </p> + <p> + She threw back her head and faced the two men. “Ye'll look no further, Mr. + O'Day. You go over to Otto's and go to work; and it will be to-night after + you gets your things stowed away. And ye'll pay him ten dollars a week, + Otto, for the first month, and more the second if he earns it, which he + will. Now are ye all satisfied, or shall I say it over?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, please, Mrs. Cleary. If I may interrupt,” he laughed, his + reserve broken through at last by the friendly interest shown by the + strangers about him, “and what will be the hours of my service?” Then, + turning to Otto: “Perhaps you, Mr. Kling, can best tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Vot you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “How early must I come in the morning, and until how late must I stay at + night?” + </p> + <p> + The dealer hesitated, then answered slowly, “In de morning at eight + o'clock, and”—but, seeing a cloud cross O'Day's face, added: “Or + maybe haf past eight vill do.” + </p> + <p> + “And at night?” + </p> + <p> + “Vell—you can't tell. Sometimes it is more late as udder times—about + nine o'clock ven I have packing to do.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, den, say eight o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Again O'Day shook his head slowly and thoughtfully as if some + insurmountable obstacle had suddenly arisen before him. Then he said + firmly: “I am afraid I must decline your kind offer, Mr. Kling. The latest + I could stay on any evening is seven o'clock—some days I might have + to leave at six—certainly no later than half past. I suppose you + have dinner at seven, Mrs. Cleary?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty nodded. She was too interested in this new phase of the situation to + speak. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, seven would have to be the hour, Mr. Kling” said O'Day. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, make it seven o'clock, den.” + </p> + <p> + “And if,” he continued in a still more serious voice, “I should on certain + days—absent myself entirely, would that matter?” + </p> + <p> + Otto was being slowly driven into a corner, but he determined not to + flinch with Kitty standing by. “No, I tink I git along vid my little + Beesvings.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day studied the pavement for an instant, then looked into space as if + seeking to clear his mind of every conflicting thought, and said at last, + slowly and deliberately: “Very well. Then I will be with you in the + morning at nine o'clock. Now, good day, Mrs. Cleary. I know we will get on + very well together, and you, too, Mr. Kling. Thank you for your + confidence.” Then, turning to the Irishman: “Don't forget, Mike, that the + street-door is open and that I'm up two flights. You will find the number + on this card.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV + </h2> + <p> + The customary scene took place when Felix, late that afternoon, handed his + landlady the overdue rent. Now that the two crisp bills which O'Day owed + her lay in her hand, she was ready to pass them back to him if the full + payment at all embarrassed him. Indeed, she had never had a more quiet and + decent lodger, and she hoped it didn't mean he was “goin' away,” and, if + she was rather sharp with him the night before, it was because she had + been “that nervous of late.” + </p> + <p> + But Felix, ignoring her overtures, only shook his head in a good-natured + way. He would begin packing at once, and the express wagon would be here + at six. She would know it by the white horse which the man was driving. + When his trunks were finished he would put them outside his bedroom door, + and please not to forget his mackintosh and leather hat-case which he + would leave inside the room. + </p> + <p> + So the packing began. First the sole-leather trunk, from which he had + taken the hapless dressing-case the night before, was pulled out and the + heavy black tin box hauled into position and unlocked. With the raising of + the scarred and dented top a mass of letters and papers came into view, + filling the box to the brim—some tied with red tape, others in big + envelopes. In a corner lay some photographs—one in a gilt frame, the + edge showing clear of the tissue-paper in which it was wrapped. This he + took out and studied long and earnestly, his lips tightly pressed + together. Retying the paper, he tucked them all back into place, turned + the key, shook the box to see that the lock held tight, picked it up with + one hand by its side handle, and, throwing open the door, deposited it on + the landing outside. Its leather companion was then placed beside it, the + hat-case crowning the whole. + </p> + <p> + Mike's voice was now heard in the narrow front hall. “How fur is it up, + mum? Oh, another flight! Begorra, it's as dark as a coal-hole and about as + dirty!” This was followed by: “Oh, is that you, sor? How many pieces have + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only two, Mike; and the mackintosh and hat-case,” answered Felix, who had + watched him stumbling up the stairs until his red face was level with the + landing. “By the way, mind you don't lose the rubber coat, for, although I + never wear an overcoat, this comes in well when it rains.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never take me eyes off it. I bet ye niver bought that down on the + Bowery from a Johnny-hand-me-down!” + </p> + <p> + “And, Mike!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sor?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you please say to Mrs. Cleary that I may not be in to-night before + eleven o'clock?” + </p> + <p> + “Eleven! Why that's the shank o' the evenin' for her, sor. If it was + twelve, or after, she'd be up.” Then he bent forward and whispered: “I + should think ye would be glad, sor, to get out of this rookery.” + </p> + <p> + Felix nodded in assent, waited until the leather trunk had been dumped + into the wagon, watched Mike remount the stairs until he had reached his + landing, helped him to load up the balance of his luggage—the tin + box on one shoulder, the coat over the other, the hat-case in the free + hand—and then walked back to his empty room. Here he made a + thoughtful survey of the dismal place in which he had spent so many + months, picked up his blackthorn stick, and, leaving the door ajar, walked + slowly down-stairs, his hand on the rail as a guide in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “And you aren't comin' back, sir?” remarked the landlady, who had listened + for his steps. + </p> + <p> + “That, madame, one never can tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are always welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, sir; my husband's out or he would like to shake your hand.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day bowed slightly and stepped into the street, his stick under his arm, + his hands hooked behind his back. That he had no immediate purpose in view + was evident from the way he loitered along, stopping to look at the store + windows or to scrutinize the passing crowd, each person intent on his or + her special business. By the time he had reached Broadway the upper floors + of the business buildings were dark, but the windows of the restaurants, + cigar shops, and saloons had begun to blaze out and a throng of pleasure + seekers to replace that of the shoppers and workers. This aspect of New + York appealed to him most. There were fewer people moving about the + streets and in less of a hurry, and he could study them the closer. + </p> + <p> + In a cheap restaurant off Union Square he ate a spare and inexpensive + meal, whiled away an hour over the free afternoon papers, went out to + watch an audience thronging into one of the smaller theatres, and then + boarded a down-town car. When he reached Trinity Church the clock was + striking, and, as he often did when here at this hour, he entered the open + gate and, making his way among the shadows sat down, on a flat tomb. The + gradual transition from the glare and rush of the up-town streets to the + sombre stillness of this ancient graveyard always seemed to him like the + shifting of films upon a screen, a replacement of the city of the living + by the city of the dead. High up in the gloom soared the spire of the old + church, its cross lost in shadows. Still higher, their roofs melting into + the dusky blue vault, rose the great office-buildings, crowding close as + if ready to pounce upon the small space protected only by the sacred ashes + of the dead. + </p> + <p> + For some time he sat motionless, listening to the muffled peals of the + organ. Then the humiliating events of the last twenty-four hours began + crowding in upon his memory: the insolent demands of his landlady; the + guarded questions of Kling when he inspected the dressing-case; the look + of doubt on both their faces and the changes wrought in their manner and + speech when they found he was able to pay his way. Suddenly something + which up to that moment he had held at bay gripped him. + </p> + <p> + “It was money, then, which counted,” he said to himself, forgetting for + the moment Kitty's refusal to take it. And if money were so necessary, how + long could he earn it? Kling would soon discover how useless he was, and + then the tin box, emptied of its contents and the last keepsake pawned or + sold, the end would come. + </p> + <p> + None of these anxieties had ever assailed him before. He had been like a + man walking in a dream, his gaze fixed on but one exit, regardless of the + dangers besetting his steps. Now the truth confronted him. He had reached + the limit of his resources. To hope for much from Kling was idle. Such a + situation could not last, nor could he count for long either on the + friendship or the sympathy of the big-hearted expressman's wife. She had + been absolutely sincere, and so had her husband, but that made it all the + more incumbent upon him to preserve his own independence while still + pursuing the one object of his life with undiminished effort. + </p> + <p> + A flood of light from the suddenly opened church-door, followed by a burst + of pent-up melody, recalled him to himself. He waited until all was dark + again, rose to his feet, passed through the gate and, with a brace of his + shoulders and quickened step, walked on into Wall Street. + </p> + <p> + As he made his way along the deserted thoroughfare, where but a few hours + since the very air had been charged with a nervous energy whose slightest + vibration was felt the world over, the sombre stillness of the ancient + graveyard seemed to have followed him. Save for a private watchman slowly + tramping his round and an isolated foot-passenger hurrying to the ferry, + no soul but himself was stirring or awake except, perhaps, behind some + electric light in a lofty building where a janitor was retiring or, lower + down, some belated bookkeeper in search of an error. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the grim row of tall columns guarding the front of the old + custom-house, he turned his steps in the direction of the docks, wheeled + sharply to the left, and continued up South Street until he stopped in + front of a ship-chandler's store. + </p> + <p> + Some one was at work inside, for the rays of a lantern shed their light + over piles of old cordage and heaps of rusty chains flanking the low + entrance. + </p> + <p> + Picking his way around some barrels of oil, he edged along a line of boxes + filled with ship's stuff until he reached an inside office, where, beside + a kerosene lamp placed on a small desk littered with papers, sat a man in + shirt-sleeves. At the sound of O'Day's step the occupant lifted his head + and peered out. The visitor passed through the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Carlin; I hoped you would still be up. I stopped on the way + down or I should have been here earlier.” + </p> + <p> + A man of sixty, with a ruddy, weather-beaten face set in a half-moon of + gray whiskers, the ends tied under his chin, sprang to his feet. “Ah! Is + that you, Mr. Felix? I been a-wonderin' where you been a-keepin' yourself. + Take this chair; it's more comfortable. I was thinkin' somehow you might + come in to-night, and so I took a shy at my bills to have somethin' to do. + I suppose”—he stopped, and in a whisper added: “I suppose you + haven't heard anything, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word,” answered the ship-chandler gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I thought perhaps you might have had a letter,” urged Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Not a line of any kind,” came the answer, followed by a sidewise movement + of the gray head, as if its owner had long since abandoned hope from that + quarter. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think anything is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', or I should 'a' 'eard. My notion is that Martha kep' on to + Toronto with that sick man she nursed on the steamer. Maybe she's got work + stiddy and isn't a-goin' to come back.” + </p> + <p> + “But she would have let you KNOW?” There was a ring of anxiety now, tinged + with a certain impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she would, Mr. Felix, and perhaps she wouldn't. Since our mother + died Martha gets rather cocky sometimes. Likes to be her own boss and earn + her own living. I've often 'eard her say it before I left 'ome, and she + HAS earned it, I must say—and she's got to, same as all of us. I + suppose you been keepin' it up same as usual—trampin' and lookin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” This came as the mere stating of a fact. + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose there ain't nothin' new—no clew—nothin' you can + work on?” The speaker felt assured there was not, but it might be an + encouragement to suggest its possibility. + </p> + <p> + “No, not the slightest clew.” + </p> + <p> + “Better give it up, Mr. Felix, you're only wastin' your time. Be worse + maybe when you do come up agin it.” The ship-chandler was in earnest; + every intonation proved it. + </p> + <p> + O'Day arose from his seat and looked down at his companion. “That is not + my way, Carlin, nor is it yours; and I have known you since I was a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are goin' to keep it up, Mr. Felix?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, until I know the end or reach my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, God's help go with ye!” + </p> + <p> + Into the shadows again—past long rows of silent warehouses, with + here and there a flickering gas-lamp—until he reached Dover Street. + He had still some work to do up-town, and Dover Street would furnish a + short cut along the abutment of the great bridge, and so on to the + Elevated at Franklin Square. + </p> + <p> + He was evidently familiar with its narrow, uneven sidewalk, for he swung + without hesitation into the gloom and, with hands hooked behind his back, + his stick held, as was his custom, close to his armpit, made his way past + its shambling hovels and warehouses. Now and then he would pause, + following with his eyes the curve of the great steel highway, carried on + the stone shoulders of successive arches, the sweep of its lines marked by + a procession of lights, its outstretched, interlocked palms gripped close. + The memory of certain streets in London came to him—those near its + own great bridges, especially the city dump at Black-friars and the + begrimed buildings hugging the stone knees of London Bridge, choking up + the snakelike alleys and byways leading to the Embankment. + </p> + <p> + Crossing under the Elevated, he continued along the side of the giant + piers and wheeled into a dirt-choked, ill-smelling street, its distant + outlet a blaze of electric lights. It was now the dead hour of the + twenty-four—the hour before the despatch of the millions of + journals, damp from the presses. He was the only human being in sight. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, when within a hundred feet of the end of the street, a figure + detached itself from a deserted doorway. Felix caught his stick from under + his armpit as the man held out a hand. + </p> + <p> + “Say, I want you to give me the price of a meal.” + </p> + <p> + Felix tightened his hold on the stick. The words had conveyed a threat. + </p> + <p> + “This is no place for you to beg. Step out where people can see you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm hungry, mister.” He had now taken in the width of O'Day's shoulders + and the length of his forearm. He had also seen the stick. + </p> + <p> + Felix stepped back one pace and slipped his hand down the blackthorn. + “Move on, I tell you, where I can look you over—quick!—I mean + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't much to look at.” The threat was out of his voice now. “I ain't + eaten nothin' since yisterday, mister, and I got that out of a ash-barrel. + I'm up agin it hard. Can't you see I ain't lyin'? You ain't never starved + or you'd know. You ain't—” He wavered, his eyes glittering, edged a + step nearer, and with a quick lunge made a grab for O'Day's watch. + </p> + <p> + Felix sidestepped with the agility of a cat, struck straight out from the + shoulder, and, with a twist of his fingers in the tramp's neck-cloth, + slammed him flat against the wall, where he crouched, gasping for breath. + “Oh, that's it, is it?” he said calmly, loosening his hold. + </p> + <p> + The man raised both hands in supplication. “Don't kill me! Listen to me—I + ain't no thief—I'm desperate. When you didn't give me nothin' and I + got on to the watch—I got crazy. I'm glad I didn't git it. I been + a-walkin' the streets for two weeks lookin' for work. Last night I slep' + in a coal-bunker down by the docks, under the bridge, and I was goin' + there agin when you come along. I never tried to rob nobody before. Don't + run me in—let me go this time. Look into my face; you can see for + yourself I'm hungry! I'll never do it agin. Try me, won't you?” His tears + were choking him, the elbow of his ragged sleeve pressed to his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Felix had listened without moving, trying to make up his mind, noting the + drawn, haggard face, the staring eyes and dry, fevered lips—all + evidences of either hunger or vice, he was uncertain which. + </p> + <p> + Then gradually, as the man's sobs continued, there stole over him that + strange sense of kinship in pain which comes to us at times when + confronted with another's agony. The differences between them—the + rags of the one and the well-brushed garments of the other, the fact that + one skulked with his misery in dark alleys while the other bore his on the + open highways—counted as nothing. He and this outcast were bound + together by the common need of those who find the struggle overwhelming. + Until that moment his own sufferings had absorbed him. Now the throb of + the world's pain came to him and sympathies long dormant began to stir. + </p> + <p> + “Straighten up and let me see your face,” he said at last, intent on the + tramp's abject misery. “Out here where the full light can fall on it—that's + right! Now tell me about yourself. How long have you been like this?” + </p> + <p> + The man dragged himself to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Ever since I lost my job.” The question had calmed him. There was a note + of hope in it. + </p> + <p> + “What work did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a plumber's helper.” + </p> + <p> + “Work stopped?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a strike—I wouldn't quit, and they fired me.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened then?” + </p> + <p> + “She went away.” + </p> + <p> + “Who went away?” + </p> + <p> + “My wife.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “About a month back.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you beat her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, there was another man.” + </p> + <p> + “Younger than you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How old was she?” + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen.” + </p> + <p> + “A girl, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you put it that way. She was all I had.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen her since?” + </p> + <p> + “No, and I don't want to.” + </p> + <p> + These questions and answers had followed in rapid succession, Felix + searching for the truth and the man trying to give it as best he could. + </p> + <p> + With the last answer the man drew a step nearer and, in a voice which was + fast getting beyond his control, said: “You know now, don't you? You can + see it plain as day how long it takes to make a bum of a man when he's up + agin things like that. You—” He paused, listened intently, and + sprang back, hugging the wall. “What's that? Somebody comin'! My God! It's + a cop! Don't tell him—say you won't tell him—say it! SAY IT!” + </p> + <p> + Felix gripped his wrist. “Pull yourself together and keep still.” + </p> + <p> + The officer, who was idly swinging a club as if for companionship along + his lonely beat, stopped short. “Any trouble, sir?” he said as soon as he + had Felix's outline and bearing clear. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, officer. Only a friend of mine who needs a little looking + after. I'll take care of him.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir,” and he passed on down the narrow street. + </p> + <p> + The man gave a long breath and staggered against the wall. Felix caught + him by his trembling shoulders. “Now, brace up. The first thing you need + is something to eat. There is a restaurant at the corner. Come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “They won't let me in.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take care of that.” + </p> + <p> + Felix entered first. “What is there hot this time of night, barkeeper?” + </p> + <p> + “Frankfurters and beans, boss.” + </p> + <p> + “Any coffee?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Send a double portion of each to this table,” and he pulled out a chair. + “Here's a man who has missed his dinner. Is that enough?” and he laid down + a dollar bill—one Kling had given him. + </p> + <p> + “Forty cents change, boss.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep it, and see he gets all he wants. And now here,” he said to the + tramp, “is another dollar to keep you going,” and with a shift of his + stick to his left arm Felix turned on his heel, swung back the door, and + was lost in the throng. + </p> + <p> + Kitty was up and waiting for him when he lifted the hinged wooden flap + which provided an entrance for the privileged and, guided by the glow of + the kerosene lamp, turned the knob of her kitchen door. She was close to + the light, reading, the coffee-pot singing away on the stove, the aroma of + its contents filling the room. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I have not kept you up, Mrs. Cleary. You had my message by Mike, + did you not?” he asked in an apologetic tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I got the message, and I got the trunks; they're up-stairs, and if + you had given Mike the keys I'd have 'em unpacked by this time and all + ready for you. As to my bein' up—I'm always up, and I got to be. + John and Mike is over to Weehawken, and Bobby's been to the circus and + just gone to bed, and I've been readin' the mornin' paper—about the + only time I get to read it. Will ye sit down and wait till John comes in? + Hold on 'til I get ye a cup of hot coffee and—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mrs. Cleary. I will go to bed, if you do not mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but the coffee will put new life into ye, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, but it would be more likely to put it OUT of me if it kept me + awake. Can I reach my room this way or must I go outside?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye can go through this door—wait, I'll go wid ye and show ye about + the light and where ye'll find the water. It's dark on the stairs and ye + may stumble. I'll go on ahead and turn up the gas in the hall,” she called + back, as she mounted the steps and threw wide his room door. “Not much of + a place, is it? But ye can get plenty of fresh air, and the bed's not bad. + Ye can see for yourself,” and her stout fist sunk into its middle. “And + there's your trunks and tin chest, and the hat-box is beside the + wash-stand, and the waterproof coat's in the closet. We have breakfast at + seven o'clock, and ye'll eat down-stairs wid me and John. And now good + night to ye.” + </p> + <p> + Felix thanked her for her attention in his simple, straightforward way, + and, closing the door upon her, dropped into a chair. + </p> + <p> + The night's experience had been like a sudden awakening. His anxiety over + his dwindling finances and his disappointment over Carlin's news had been + put to flight by the suffering of the man who had tried to rob him. There + were depths, then, to which human suffering might drive a man, depths he + himself had never imagined or reached—horrible, deadly depths, + without light or hope, benumbing the best in a man, destroying his + purposes by slow, insidious stages. + </p> + <p> + He arose from his chair and began walking up and down the small room, + stopping now and then to inspect a bureau drawer or to readjust one of the + curtains shading the panes of glass. In the same absent-minded way he drew + out one of the trunks, unlocked it, paused now and then with some garment + in his hand only to awake again to consciousness and resume his task, + pushing the trunk back at last under the bed and continuing his walk about + the narrow room, always haunted by the tramp's haggard, hopeless look. + </p> + <p> + Again he felt the mysterious sense of kinship in pain that wipes away all + distinctions. With it, too, there came suddenly another sense—that + of an overwhelming compassion out of which new purposes are born to human + souls. + </p> + <p> + The encounter, then, had been both a blessing and a warning. He would now + stand guard against the onslaught of his own sorrows while keeping up the + fight, and this with renewed vigor. He would earn money, too, since this + was so necessary, laboring with his hands, if need be; and he would do it + all with a wide-open heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V + </h2> + <p> + If O'Day's presence was a welcome addition to Kitty's household, it was + nothing compared to the effect produced at Kling's. Long before the month + was out he had not only earned his entire wages five times over by the + changes he had wrought in the arrangement and classification of the stock, + but he had won the entire confidence of his employer. Otto had surrendered + when an old customer who had been in the habit of picking up rare bits of + china, Japanese curios, and carvings at his own value had been confronted + with the necessity of either paying Felix's price or going away without + it, O'Day having promptly quadrupled the price on a piece of old Dresden, + not only because the purchaser was compelled to have it to complete his + set but because the interview had shown that the buyer was well aware he + had obtained the former specimens at one-fourth of their value. + </p> + <p> + And the same discernment was shown when he was purchasing old furniture, + brass, and so-called Sheffield plate to increase Otto's stock. If the + articles offered could still boast of either handle, leg, or back of their + original state and the price was fair, they were almost always bought, but + the line was drawn at the fraudulent and “plugged-up” sideboards and + chairs with their legs shot full of genuine worm-holes; ancient Oriental + stuffs of the time of the early Persians (one year out of a German loom), + rare old English plate, or undoubted George III silver, decorated with + coats of arms or initials and showing those precious little dents only + produced by long service—the whole fresh from a Connecticut factory. + These never got past his scrutiny. While it was true, as he had told + Kling, that he knew very little in the way of trade and commerce—nothing + which would be of use to any one—he was a never-failing expert when + it came to what is generally known as “antiques” and “bric-a-brac.” + </p> + <p> + Masie—Kling's only child—a slender, graceful little creature + with a wealth of gold-yellow hair flying about her pretty shoulders and a + pair of blue eyes in which were mirrored the skies of ten joyous springs, + had given her heart to him at once. She had never forgotten his gentle + treatment of her dog Fudge, whose attack that first morning Felix had + understood so well, lifting and putting the refractory animal back in her + arms instead of driving him off with a kick. Fudge, whose manners were + improving, had not forgotten either and was always under O'Day's feet + except when being fondled by the child. + </p> + <p> + Until Felix came she had had no other companions, some innate reserve + keeping her from romping with the children on the street, her sole + diversion, except when playing at home among her father's possessions or + making a visit to Kitty, being found in the books of fairy-tales which the + old hunchback, Tim Kelsey, had lent her. At first this natural shyness had + held her aloof even from O'Day, content only to watch his face as he + answered her childish appeals. But before the first week had passed she + had slipped her hand into his, and before the month was over her arms were + around his neck, her fresh, soft cheek against his own, cuddling close as + she poured out her heart in a continuous flow of prattle and laughter, her + father looking on in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + For, while Kling loved her as most fathers love their motherless + daughters, Felix had seen at a glance that he was either too engrossed in + his business or too dense and unimaginative to understand so winning a + child. She was Masie, “dot little girl of mine dot don't got no mudder,” + or “Beesvings, who don't never be still,” but that was about as far as his + notice of her went, except sending her to school, seeing that she was fed + and clothed, and on such state occasions as Christmas, New Year's, or + birthdays, giving her meaningless little presents, which, in most + instances, were shut up in her bureau drawers, never to be looked at + again. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, who remembered the child's mother as a girl with a far-away look in + her eyes and a voice of surprising sweetness, always maintained that it + was a shame for Kling, who was many years her senior, to have married the + girl at all. + </p> + <p> + “Not, John, dear, that Otto isn't a decent man, as far as he goes,” she + had once said to him, when the day's work was over and they were + discussing their neighbors, “and that honest, too, that he wouldn't get + away with a sample trunk weighing a ton if it was nailed fast to the + sidewalk, and a good friend of ours who wouldn't go back on us, and never + did. But that wife of his, John! If she wasn't as fine as the best of em, + then I miss my guess. She got it from that father of hers—the + clock-maker that never went out in the daytime, and hid himself in his + back shop. There was something I never understood about the two of 'em and + his killing himself when he did. Why, look at that little Masie! Can't ye + see she is no more Kling's daughter than she is mine? Ye can't hatch out + hummin'-birds by sittin' on ducks' eggs, and that's what's the matter over + at Otto's.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whose eggs were they?” John had inquired, half asleep by the stove, + his tired legs outstretched, the evening paper dropping from his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't say that they are not Kling's right enough, John. Masie is + his child, I know. But what I say is that the mother is stamped all over + the darling, and that Otto can't put a finger on any part and call it his + own.” + </p> + <p> + Whether Kitty were right or wrong regarding the mystery is no part of our + story, but certain it was that the soul of the unhappy young mother looked + through the daughter's eyes, that the sweetness of the child's voice was + hers, and the grace of every movement a direct inheritance from one whose + frail spirit had taken so early a flight. + </p> + <p> + To Felix this companionship, with the glimpses it gave him of a child's + heart, refreshed his own as a summer rain does a thirsty plant. Had she + been his daughter, or his little sister, or his niece, or grandchild, a + certain sense of responsibility on his part and of filial duty on hers + would have clouded their perfect union. He would have had matters of + education to insist upon—perhaps of clothing and hygiene. She would + have had her secrets—hidden paths on which she wandered alone—things + she could never tell to one in authority. As it was, bound together as + they were by only a mutual recognition, their joy in each other knew no + bounds. To Masie he was a refuge, some one who understood every thought + before she had uttered it; to O'Day she was a never-ending and warming + delight. + </p> + <p> + And so this man of forty-five folded his arms about this child of ten, and + held her close, the opening chalice of her budding girlhood widening + hourly at his touch—a sight to be reverenced by every man and never + to be forgotten by one privileged to behold it. + </p> + <p> + And with the intimacy which almost against his will held him to the little + shop, there stole into his life a certain content. Springs long dried in + his own nature bubbled again. He felt the sudden, refreshing sense of + those who, after pent-up suffering, find the quickening of new life + within. + </p> + <p> + Mike noticed the change in the cheery greetings and in the passages of + Irish wit with which the new clerk welcomed him whenever he appeared in + the store, and so did Kling, and even the two Dutchies when Felix would + drop into the cellar searching for what was still good enough to be made + over new. And so did Kitty and John and all at their home. + </p> + <p> + Masie alone noticed nothing. To her, “Uncle Felix,” as she now called him, + was always the same adorable and comprehending companion, forever opening + up to her new vistas of interest, never too busy to answer her questions, + never too preoccupied to explain the different objects he was handling. If + she were ever in the way, she was never made to feel it. Instead, so + gentle and considerate was he, that she grew to believe herself his most + valuable assistant, daily helping him to arrange the various new + acquisitions. + </p> + <p> + One morning in June when they were busy over a lot of small curios, + arranging bits of jade, odd silver watches, seals, and pinchbeck rings, in + a glass case that had been cleaned and revarnished, the door opened and an + old fellow strolled in—an odd-looking old fellow, with snow-white + hair and beard, wearing a black sombrero and a shirt cut very low in the + neck. But for a pair of kindly eyes, which looked out at you from beneath + the brim of the hat, he might have been mistaken for one of the dwarfs in + “Rip Van Winkle.” Fudge, having now been disciplined by Felix, only + sniffed at his trousers. + </p> + <p> + “I see an old gold frame in your window,” began the new customer. “Might I + measure it?” + </p> + <p> + “Which one, sir?” replied Felix. “There are half a dozen of them, I + believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well; will you please come outside? And I will point it out. It is the + Florentine, there in the corner—perhaps a reproduction, but it looks + to me like the real thing.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a Florentine,” answered Felix. “There are two or three pictures in + the Uffizi with similar frames, if I recall them aright. Would you like a + look at it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to trouble you to take it out,” said the old man + apologetically. “It might not do, and I can't afford to pay much for it + anyway. But I would like to measure it; I've got an Academy picture which + I think will just fit it, but you can't always tell. No, I guess I'll let + it go. It's all covered up, and you would have to move everything to reach + it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't have to move a thing. Here, you bunch of sunshine! Squeeze in + there, Masie, dear, and let me know how wide and high that frame is—the + one next the glass. Take this rule.” + </p> + <p> + The child caught up the rule and, followed by Fudge, who liked nothing so + well as rummaging, crept among the jars, mirrors, and candelabra crowding + the window, her steps as true as those of a kitten. “Twenty inches by + thirty-one—no, thirty,” she laughed back, tucking her little skirts + closer to her shapely limbs so as to clear a tiny table set out with cups + and saucers. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure it's thirty?” repeated the painter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, thirty,” and she crept back and laid the rule in O'Day's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear young lady,” bowed the old gnome. “It is a pleasure to + be served by one so obliging and bright. And I am glad to tell you,” he + added, turning to O'Day, “that it's a fit—an exact fit. I thought I + was about right. I carry things in my eye. I bought a head once in Venice, + about a foot square, and in Spain three months afterward, on my way down + the hill leading from the Alhambra to the town, there on a wall outside a + bric-a-brac shop hung a frame which I bought for ten francs, and when I + got to Paris and put them together, I'll be hanged if they didn't fit as + if they had been made for each other.” + </p> + <p> + “And I know the shop!” broke out Felix, to Masie's astonishment. “It's + just before you get to the small chapel on the left.” + </p> + <p> + “By cracky, you're right! How long since you were there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, some five years now.” + </p> + <p> + “Picking up things to sell here, I suppose. Spain used to be a great place + for furniture and stuffs; I've got a lot of them still—bought a + whole chest of embroideries once in Seville, or rather, at that hospital + where the big Murillo hangs. You must know that picture—Moses + striking water from the rock—best thing Murillo ever did.” + </p> + <p> + Felix remembered it, and he also remembered many of the important pictures + in the Prado, especially the great Velasquez and the two Goyas, and that + head of Ribera which hung on the line in the second gallery on the right + as you entered. And before the two enthusiasts were aware of what was + going on around them, Masie and Fudge had slipped off to dine upstairs + with her father, Felix and the garrulous old painter still talking—renewing + their memories with a gusto and delight unknown to the old artist for + years. + </p> + <p> + “And now about that frame!” the gnome at last found time to say. “I've got + so little money that I'd rather swap something for it, if you don't mind. + Come down and see my stuff! It's only in 10th Street—not twenty + minutes' walk. Maybe you can sell some of my things for me. And bring that + blessed little girl—she's the dearest, sweetest thing I've seen for + an age. Your daughter?” + </p> + <p> + Felix laughed gently. “No, I wish she were. She is Mr. Kling's child.” + </p> + <p> + “And your name?” + </p> + <p> + “O'Day.” + </p> + <p> + “Irish, of course—well, all the same, come down any morning this + week. My name is Ganger; I'm on the fourth floor—been there + twenty-two years. You'll have to walk up—we all do. Yes, I'll expect + you.” + </p> + <p> + Kling, whom Felix consulted, began at once to demur. He knew all about the + building on 10th Street. More than one of his old frames—part of the + clearing-out sale of some Southern homestead, the portraits being reserved + because unsalable—had resumed their careers on the walls of the + Academy as guardians and protectors of masterpieces painted by the + denizens of this same old rattletrap, the Studio Building. Some of its + tenants, too, had had accounts with him—which had been running for + more than a year. Bridley, the marine painter; Manners, who took pupils; + Springlake, the landscapist; and half a dozen others had been in the habit + of dropping into his shop on the lookout for something good in Dutch + cabinets at half-price, or no price at all, until Felix, without knowing + where they had come from, had put an end to the practice. + </p> + <p> + “Got a fellow up to Kling's who looks as if he had been a college athlete, + and knows it all. Can't fool him for a cent,” was the talk now, instead of + “Keep at the old Dutchman and you may get it. He don't know the difference + between a Chippendale sideboard and a shelf rack from Harlem. Wait for a + rainy day and go in. He'll be feeling blue, and you'll be sure to get it.” + </p> + <p> + Kling, therefore, when he heard some days later, of Felix's proposed + visit, began turning over his books, looking up several past-due accounts. + But Felix would have none of it. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going on a collecting tour, Mr. Kling, this lovely June morning,” he + laughed, “but not for money. We will look after that later on. And I will + take Masie. Come, child, get your hat. Mr. Ganger wanted you to come, and + so do I. Call Hans, Mr. Kling, if the shop gets full. We will be back in + an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, you know best,” answered Kling in final surrender. “Ven it comes to + money, I know. You go 'long, little Beesvings. I mind de shop.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll take Fudge,” the child cried, “and we'll stop at Gramercy Park.” + </p> + <p> + Fudge was out first, scampering down the street and back again before they + had well closed the door, and Masie was as restless. “Oh, I'm just as + happy as I can be, Uncle Felix. You are always so good. I never had any + one to walk with until you came, except old Aunty Gossberger, and she + never let me look at anything.” + </p> + <p> + Days in June—joyous days with all nature brimful with laughter—days + when the air is a caress, the sky a film of pearl and silver, and the + eager mob of bud, blossom, and leaf, having burst their bonds, are + flaunting their glories, days like these are always to be remembered the + world over. But June days about Gramercy Park are to be marked in big Red + Letters upon the calendar of the year. For in Gramercy Park the almanac + goes to pieces. + </p> + <p> + Everything is ahead of time. When little counter-panes of snow are still + covering the baby crocuses away off in Central Park, down in Gramercy + their pink and yellow heads are popping up all over the enclosure. When + the big trees in Union Square are stretching their bare arms, making ready + to throw off the winter's sleep, every tiny branch in Gramercy is wide + awake and tingling with new life. When countless dry roots in Madison + Square are still slumbering under their blankets of straw, dreading the + hour when they must get up and go to work, hundreds of tender green + fingers in Gramercy are thrust out to the kindly sun, pleading for a + chance to be up and doing. + </p> + <p> + And the race keeps up, Gramercy still ahead, until the goal of summer is + won, and every blessed thing that could have burst into bloom has settled + down to enjoy the siesta of the hot season. + </p> + <p> + Masie was never tired of watching these changes, her wonder and delight + increasing as the season progressed. + </p> + <p> + In the earlier weeks there had been nothing but flower-beds covered with + unsightly clods, muffled shrubs, and bandaged vines. Then had come a blaze + of tulips, exhausting the palette. And then, but a short time before—it + seemed only yesterday—every stretch of brown grass had lost its dull + tints in a coat of fresh paint, on which the benches, newly scrubbed, were + set, and each foot of gravelled walks had been raked and made ready for + the little tots in new straw hats who were then trundling their hoops and + would soon be chasing their first butterflies. + </p> + <p> + And now, on this lovely June morning, summer had come—REAL SUMMER—for + a mob of merry roses were swarming up a trellis in a mad climb to reach + its top, the highest blossom waving its petals in triumph. + </p> + <p> + Felix waited until she had taken it all in, her face pressed between the + bars (only the privileged possessing a key are admitted to the gardens + within), Fudge scampering up and down, wild to get at the two gray + squirrels, which some vandal has since stolen, and then, remembering his + promise to Ganger, he called her to him and continued his walk. + </p> + <p> + But her morning outing was not over. He must take her to the + marble-cutter's yard, filled with all sorts of statues, urns, benches, and + columns, and show her again the ruts and grooves cut in the big stone + well-head, and tell her once more the story of how it had stood in an old + palace in Venice, where the streets were all water and everybody went + visiting in boats. And then she must stop at the florist's to see whether + he had any new ferns in his window, and have Felix again explain the + difference between the big and little ferns and why the palms had such + long leaves. + </p> + <p> + She was ready now for her visit to the two old painters, but this time + Felix lingered. He had caught sight of a garden wall in the rear of an old + house, and with his hand in hers had crossed the street to study it the + closer. The wall was surmounted by a solid, wrought-iron railing into + which some fifty years or more ago a gardener had twisted the tendrils of + a wistaria. The iron had cut deep, and so inseparable was the embrace that + human skill could not pull them apart without destroying them both. + </p> + <p> + As he reached the sidewalk and got a clearer view of the vine, tracing the + weave of its interlaced branches and tendrils, Masie noticed that he + stopped suddenly and for a moment looked away, lost in deep thought. She + caught, too, the shadow that sometimes settled on his face, one she had + seen before and wondered over. But although her hand was still in his, she + kept silent until he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Look, dear Masie,” he said at last, drawing her to him, “see what happens + to those who are forced into traps! It was the big knot that held it back! + And yet it grew on!” + </p> + <p> + Masie looked up into his thoughtful face. “Do you think the iron hurts it, + Uncle Felix?” she asked with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't wonder; it would me,” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “But it wasn't the vine's fault, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. Maybe when it was planted nobody looked after it, nor cared + what might happen when it grew up. Poor wistaria! Come along, darling!” + </p> + <p> + At last they turned into 10th Street, Fudge scurrying ahead to the very + door of the grim building, where a final dash brought him to Ganger's, his + nose having sniffed at every threshold they passed and into every crack + and corner of the three flights of stairs. + </p> + <p> + Felix's own nostrils were now dilating with pleasure. The odor of varnish + and turpentine had brought back some old memories—as perfumes do for + us all. A crumpled glove, a bunch of withered roses, the salt breath of an + outlying marsh, are often but so many fairy wands reviving comedies and + tragedies on which the curtains of forgetfulness have been rung down these + many years. + </p> + <p> + Something in the aroma of the place was recalling kindred spirits across + the sea, when the door was swung wide and Ganger in a big, hearty voice, + cried: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. O'Day, is it? Oh, I am glad! And that dear child, and—Hello! + who invited you, you restless little devil of a dog? Come in, all of you! + I've a model, but she doesn't care and neither do I. And this, Mr. O'Day, + is my old friend, Sam Dogger—and he's no relation of yours, you + imp!”—with a bob of his grizzled head at Fudge—“He's a + landscape-painter and a good one—one of those Hudson River fellows—and + would be a fine one if he would stick to it. Give me that hat and coat, my + chick-a-biddy, and I'll hang them up. And now here's a chair for you, Mr. + O'Day, and please get into it—and there's a jar full of tobacco, and + if you haven't got a pipe of your own you'll find a whole lot of corncobs + on the mantelpiece and you can help yourself.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day had stood smiling at the painter, Masie's hand fast in his, Fudge + tiptoeing softly about, divided between a sense of the strangeness of the + place and a certainty of mice behind the canvases. Felix knew the old + fellow's kind, and recognized the note of attempted gayety in the voice—the + bravado of the poor putting their best, sometimes their only, foot + foremost. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't sit down—not yet,” he answered pleasantly; “I will look + around, if you will let me, and I will try one of your pipes before I + begin. What a jolly place you have here! Don't move”—this to the + model, a slip of a girl, her eyes muffled in a lace veil, one of Ganger's + Oriental costumes about her shoulders—“I am quite at home, my dear, + and if you have been a model any length of time you will know exactly what + that means.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's my Fatima,” exclaimed Ganger. “Her real name is Jane Hoggson, + and her mother does my washing, but I call her Fatima for short. She can + stop work for the day. Get down off the platform, Jane Hoggson, and talk + to this dear little girl. You see, Mr. O'Day, now that the art of the + country has gone to the devil and nobody wants my masterpieces, I have + become an Eastern painter, fresh from Cairo, where I have lived for half a + century—principally on Turkish paste and pressed figs. My specialty + at present—they are all over my walls, as you can see—is + dancing-girls in silk tights or without them, just as the tobacco shops + prefer. I also do sheiks, muffled to their eyebrows in bath towels, and + with scimitars—like that one above the mantel. And very profitable, + too; MOST profitable, my dear sir. I get twenty doldars for a real odalisk + and fifteen for a bashi-bazouk. I can do one about every other day, and I + sell one about every other month. As for Sam Dogger here—Sam, what + is your specialty? I said landscapes, Sam, when Mr. O'Day came in, but you + may have changed since we have been talking.” + </p> + <p> + The wizened old gentleman thus addressed sidled nearer. He was ten years + younger than Ganger, but his thin, bloodless hands, watery eyes, their + lids edged with red, and bald head covered by a black velvet skull-cap + made him look that much older. + </p> + <p> + “Nat talks too much, Mr. O'Day,” he piped in a high-keyed voice. “I often + tell Nat that he's got a loose hinge in his mouth, and he ought to screw + it tight or it will choke him some day when he isn't watching. He! He!” + And a wheezy laugh filled the room. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, you old sardine! You don't talk enough. If you did you'd get + along better. I'll tell you, Mr. O'Day, what Sam does. Sam's a patcher-up—a + 'puttier.' That's what he is. Sam can get more quality out of a piece of + sandpaper, a pot of varnish, and a little glue than any man in the + business. If you don't believe it, just bring in a fake Romney, or a + Gainsborough, or some old Spanish or Italian daub with the corners knocked + off where the signature once was, or a scrape down half a cheek, or some + smear of a head, with half the canvas bare, and put Sam to work on it, and + in a week or less out it comes just as it left the master's easel—'Found + by his widow after his death' or 'The property of an English nobleman on + whose walls it has hung for two centuries.' By thunder! isn't it + beautiful?” He chuckled. “Wonderful how these bullfrogs of connoisseurs + swallow the dealers' flies! And here am I, who can paint any blamed thing + from a hen-coop to a battle scene, doing signs for tobacco shops; and + there is Sam, who can do Corots and Rousseaus and Daubignys by the yard, + obliged to stick to a varnish pot and a scraper! Damnable, isn't it? But + we don't growl, do we, Sammy? When Sammy has anything left over, he brings + half of it down to me—he lives on the floor above—and when I + get a little ahead and Sammy is behind, I send it up to him. We are the + Siamese twins, Sammy and I, aren't we, Sam? Where are you, anyway? Oh, + he's after the dog, I see, moving the canvases so the little beggar won't + run a thumb-tack in his paw. Sam can no more resist a dog, my dear Mr. + O'Day, than a drunkard can a rum-mill, can you, Sam?” + </p> + <p> + “At it again, are you, Nat?” wheezed the wizened old gentleman, dusting + his fingers as he reappeared from behind the canvases, his watery eyes + edged with a deeper red, due to his exertions. “Don't pay any attention to + him, Mr. O'Day. What he says isn't half true, and the half that is true + isn't worth listening to. Now tell me about that frame he's ordered. He + don't want it, and I've told him so. If you are willing to lend it to him, + he'll pay you for it when the picture is sold, which will never be, and by + that time he'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Dry up, you old varnish pot!” shouted Ganger, “how do you know I won't + pay for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because your picture will never be hung—that's why!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ganger did not want to buy it,” broke in Felix, between puffs from + one of his host's corn-cob pipes. “He wanted to exchange something for it—'swap' + he called it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” wheezed Sam, “that's another thing. What were you going to + give him in return, Nat? Careful, now—there's not much left.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, maybe some old stuff, Sammy. Move along, you blessed little child—and + you, too, Jane Hoggson! You're sitting on my Venetian wedding-chest—real, + too! I bought it forty years ago in Padua. There are some old embroideries + down in the bottom, or were, unless Sam has been in here while I—Oh, + no, here they are! Beg pardon, Sammy, for suspecting you. There—what + do you think of these?” + </p> + <p> + Felix bent over the pile of stuffs, which, under Ganger's continued + dumpings, was growing larger every minute—the last to see the light + being part of a priest's Cope and two chasubles. + </p> + <p> + “There—that is enough!” said Felix. “This chasuble alone is worth + more than the frame. We will put the Florentine frame at ten dollars and + the vestment at fifteen. What others have you, Mr. Ganger? There's a great + demand for these things when they are good, and these are good. Where did + you get them?” + </p> + <p> + “Worth more than the frame? Holy Moses!” whistled Ganger. “Why, I thought + you'd want all there was in the chest! And you say there are people out of + a lunatic asylum looking for rags like this?” And he held up one end of + the cope. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, many of them. To me, I must say, they are worth nothing, as I don't + like the idea of mixing up church and state. But Mr. Kling's customers do, + and if they choose to say their prayers before a chasuble on a priest's + back on Sunday and make a sofa cushion of it the next day, that is their + affair, not mine. And now, what else? You spoke of some costumes this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did speak of my costumes, but I'm afraid they are too modern for + you—I make 'em up myself. Get up, Jane, and let Mr. O'Day see what + you've got on!” + </p> + <p> + Jane jumped to her feet, looking less Oriental than ever, her spangled + veil having dropped about her shoulders, her red hair and freckled face + now in full view. + </p> + <p> + “I think her dress is beautiful, Uncle Felix,” whispered Masie. + </p> + <p> + “Do you, sweetheart? Well, then, maybe I might better look again. What + else have you in the way of Costumes, Mr. Ganger?” + </p> + <p> + Dogger stepped up. “He hasn't got a single thing worth a cent; he buys + these pieces down in Elizabeth Street, out of push-carts, and Jane + Hoggson's mother sews them together. But, my deary”—here he laid his + hand on Masie's head—“would you like to see some REAL ONES, + all-gold-and-silver lace—and satin shoes—and big, high bonnets + with feathers?” + </p> + <p> + Masie clapped her hands in answer and began whirling about the room, her + way of telling everybody that she was too happy to keep still. + </p> + <p> + “Well, wait here; I won't be a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Sam's fallen in love with her, too,” muttered Ganger, “and I don't blame + him. Come here, you darling, and let me talk to you. Do you know you are + the first little girl that's ever been inside this place for ever—and + ever and EVER—so long? Think of that, will you? Not one single + little girl since—Oh, well, I just can't remember—it's such an + awful long time. Dreadful, isn't it? Hear that old Sam stumbling + down-stairs! Now let's see what he brings you.” + </p> + <p> + Dogger's arms were full. “I've a silk dress,” he puffed, “and a ruffled + petticoat, and a great leghorn hat—and just look at these feathers, + and you never saw such a pair of slippers and silk stockings! And now + let's try 'em on!” + </p> + <p> + The child uttered a little scream of delight. “Oh, Uncle Felix! Isn't it + lovely? Can't I have them? Please, Uncle Felix!” she cried, both hands + around his shirt collar in supplication. + </p> + <p> + “Take 'em all, missy,” shouted Sam. Then, turning to Felix: “They belonged + to an actor who hired half of my studio and left them to pay for his rent, + which they didn't do, not by a long chalk, and—Oh, here's another + hat—and, oh, such a lovely old cloak! Yes, take 'em all, missy—I'm + glad to get rid of 'em—before Nat claps them on Jane and goes in for + Puritan maidens and Lady Gay Spankers. Oh, I know you, Nat! I wouldn't + trust you out of my sight! Take 'em along, I say.” He stopped and turned + toward Felix again. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't you bring her down here once in a while, Mr. O'Day?” he + continued, a strange, pathetic note in his wheezing voice. “Just for ten + minutes, you know, when she's out with the dog, or walking with you. + Nobody ever comes up these stairs but tramps and book agents—even + the models steer clear. It would help a lot if you'd bring her. Wouldn't + you like to come, missy? What did you say her name was? Oh, yes—Masie—well, + my child, that's not what I'd call you; I'd call you—well, I guess I + wouldn't call you anything but just a dear, darling little girl! Yes, + that's just what I'd call you. And you are going to let me give them to + her, aren't you, Mr. O'Day?” + </p> + <p> + Felix grasped the old fellow's thin, dry hand in his own strong fingers. + For an instant a strange lump in his throat clogged his speech. “Of + course, I'll take the costumes, and many thanks for your wish to make the + child happy,” he answered at last. “I am rather foolish about Masie + myself; and may I tell you, Mr. Dogger, that you are a very fine old + gentleman, and that I am delighted to have made your acquaintance, and + that, if you will permit me I shall certainly come again?” + </p> + <p> + Dogger was about to reply when Masie, Looking up into the wizened face, + cried: “And may I put them on when I like, if I'm very, very—oh, so + VERY careful?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you buttercup, and you can wear them full of holes and do anything + else you please to them, and I won't care a mite.” + </p> + <p> + And then, with Jane Hoggson's help, he put on Masie's own hat and coat, + which Ganger had hung on an easel, and Masie called Fudge from his + mouse-hole, and Felix shook hands first with Nat and then with Sam, and + last of all with Jane, who looked at him askance out of one eye as she + bobbed him half a courtesy. And then everybody went out into the hall and + said good-by once more over the banisters, Felix with the bundle under his + arm, Masie throwing kisses to the two old gnomes craning their necks over + the banisters, Fudge barking every step of the way down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI + </h2> + <p> + The glimpse which Felix had caught of these two poor, unappreciated old + men, living contentedly from hand to mouth, gayly propping each other up + when one or the other weakened, had strangely affected him. If, as he + reasoned, such battered hulks, stranded these many years on the dry sands + of incompetency, with no outlook for themselves across the wide sea over + which their contemporaries were scudding with all sails set before the + wind of success—if these castaways, their past always with them and + their hoped-for future forever out of their reach, could laugh and be + merry, why should not he carry some of their spirit into his relations + with the people among whom his lot was now thrown? + </p> + <p> + That these people had all been more than good to him, and that he owed + them in return something more than common politeness now took possession + of his mind. Few such helping hands had ever been held out to him. When + they had been, the proffered palm had generally concealed a hidden motive. + Hereafter he would try to add what he could of his own to the general fund + of good-fellowship and good deeds. + </p> + <p> + He would continue his nightly search—and he had not missed a single + evening—but he would return earlier, so as to be able to spend an + hour reading to Masie before she went to bed, or with his other friends + and acquaintances of “The Avenue”—especially with Kitty and John. He + had been too unmindful of them, getting back to his lodgings at any hour + of the night, either to let himself in by his pass-key—all the + lights out and everybody asleep—or to find only Kitty or John, or + both, at work over their accounts or waiting up for Mike or Bobby or for + one of their wagons detained on some dock. And since Kling had raised his + salary, enabling him not only to recover his dressing-case, which then + rested on his mantel, but to take his meals wherever he happened to be at + the moment—he had seldom dined at home—a great relief in many + ways to a man of his tastes. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, though he did not know it, had demurred and had talked the matter + over with John, wondering whether she had neglected his comfort. When she + had questioned him, he had settled it with a pat on her shoulders. “Just + let me have my way this time, my dear Mrs. Cleary,” he had said gently but + firmly. “I am a bad boarder and cause you no end of trouble, for I am + never on time. And please keep the price as it is, for I don't pay you + half enough for all your goodness to me.” + </p> + <p> + Now under the impulse of his new resolution, and rather ashamed of his + former attitude in view of all her unremitting attentions, he resumed his + place at her table. Nor did he stop here. He taught her to broil a chop + over her coal fire by removing the stove lid—until then they had + been fried—and a new way with a rasher of bacon, using the + carving-fork instead of a pan. The clearing of the famous coffee-pot with + an egg—making the steaming mixture anew whenever wanted instead of + letting the dented old pot simmer away all day on the back of the stove—was + another innovation, making the evening meal just that much more enjoyable, + greatly to the delight of the hostess, who was prouder of her boarder than + of any other human being who had come into her life, except John and + Bobby. + </p> + <p> + These renewed intimacies opened his eyes to another phase of the life + about him, and he soon found himself growing daily more interested in the + sweet family relations of the small household. + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for what we haven't got,” Kitty said to him one night when + some economies in the small household were being discussed. “I'm better + off than half the women who stop at my door in their carriages. I got two + arms, and I can sleep eight hours when I get the chance, and John loves me + and so does Bobby and so does my big white horse Jim. There ain't one of + them women as knows what it is to work for her man and him to work for + her.” All the other married couples he had seen had pulled apart, or lived + apart—mentally, at least. These two seemed bound together heart and + soul. + </p> + <p> + More than once he contrived to stop at the Studio Building, where both of + the old fellows were almost always to be found sitting side by side, and, + picking them up bodily, he had set them down on hard chairs in a + rathskeller on Sixth Avenue, where they had all dined together, the old + fellows warmed up with two beers apiece. This done, he had escorted them + back, seen them safely up-stairs, and returned to his lodgings. + </p> + <p> + It was after one of these mild diversions that, before going to his room, + he pushed open the door of the Clearys' sitting-room with a cheery “May I + come in, Mistress Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I'm glad to see ye!” was the joyous answer. “I was sayin' to + myself: 'Maybe ye'd come in before he went.' Here's Father Cruse I been + tellin' ye about—and, Father, here's Mr. O'Day that's livin' wid + us.” + </p> + <p> + A full-chested man of forty, in a long black cassock, standing six feet in + his stockings, his face alight with the glow of a freshly kindled + pleasure, rose from his chair and held out his hand. “The introduction + should be quite unnecessary, Mr. O'Day,” he exclaimed in the full, + sonorous voice of a man accustomed to public speaking. “You seem to have + greatly attached these dear people to you, which in itself is enough, for + there are none better in my parish.” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who had been looking the speaker over, taking in his thoughtful + face, deep black eyes, and more especially the heavy black eyebrows that + lay straight above them, felt himself warmed by the hearty greeting and + touched by its sincerity. “I agree with you, Father, in your praise of + them,” he said as he grasped the priest's hand. “They have been everything + to me since my sojourn among them. And, if I am not mistaken, you and I + have something else in common. My people are from Limerick.” + </p> + <p> + “And mine from Cork,” laughed the priest as he waved his hand toward his + empty chair, adding: “Let me move it nearer the table.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will take my old seat, if you do not mind. Please do not move, Mr. + Cleary; I am near enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And are you an importation, Father, like myself?” continued Felix, + shifting the rocker for a better view of the priest. + </p> + <p> + “No. I am only an Irishman by inheritance. I was brought up on the soil, + born down in Greenwich village—and a very queer old part of the town + it is. Strange to say, there are very few changes along its streets since + my boyhood. I found the other day the very slanting cellar door I used to + slide on when I was so high! Do you know Greenwich?” + </p> + <p> + He was sitting upright as he spoke, his hands hidden in the folds of his + black cassock, wondering meanwhile what was causing the deep lines on the + brow of this high-bred, courteous man, and the anxious look in the + deep-set eyes. As priest he had looked into many others, framed in the + side window of the confessional—the most wonderful of all schools + for studying human nature—but few like those of the man before him; + eyes so clear and sincere, yet shadowed by what the priest vaguely felt + was some overwhelming sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know it as I know most of New York,” Felix was saying; “it is + close to Jefferson Market and full of small houses, where I should think + people could live very cheaply”; adding, with a sigh, “I have walked a + great deal about your city,” and as suddenly checked himself, as if the + mere statement might lead to discussion. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, who had been darning one of John's gray yarn stockings—the + needle was still between her thumb and forefinger—leaned forward. + “That's the matter with him, Father, and he'll never be happy until he + stops it,” she cried. “He don't do nothin' but tramp the streets until I + think he'd get that tired he'd go to sleep standin' up.” + </p> + <p> + Felix turned toward her. “And why not, Mrs. Cleary?” he asked with a + smile. “How can I learn anything about this great metropolis unless I see + it for myself?” + </p> + <p> + “But it's all Sunday and every night! I get that worried about ye + sometimes, I'm ready to cry. And ye won't listen to a thing I say! I been + waitin' for Father Cruse to get hold of ye, and I'm goin' to say what's in + my mind.” Here she looked appealingly to the priest. “Now, ye just talk to + him, Father, won't ye, please?” + </p> + <p> + The priest, laughing heartily, raised his protesting hands toward her. “If + he fails to heed you, Mrs. Cleary, he certainly won't listen to me. What + do you say for yourself, Mr. O'Day?” + </p> + <p> + Felix twisted his head until he could address his words more directly to + his hostess. “Please keep on scolding me, my dear Mrs. Cleary. I love to + hear you. But there is Father Cruse, why not sympathize with him? He + tramps to some purpose. I am only the Wandering Jew, who does it for + exercise.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty held the point of the darning-needle straight out toward Felix. “But + why must you do it Sundays, Mr. O'Day? That's what I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “But Sunday is my holiday.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and there's early mass. Ye'd think he'd come, wouldn't ye, Father?” + </p> + <p> + One of O'Day's low, murmuring laughs, that always sounded as if he had + grown unaccustomed to letting the whole of it pass his lips, filtered + through the room. + </p> + <p> + “You see what a heathen I am, Father,” he exclaimed. “But I am going to + turn over a new leaf. I shall honor myself by visiting St. Barnabas's some + day very soon, and shall sit in the front pew—or, perhaps, in yours, + Mrs. Cleary, if you will let me—now that I know who officiates,” and + he inclined his head graciously toward the priest. “I hope the service is + not always in the morning!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, we have a service very often at night, sometimes at eight + o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long does that last?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “And so if I should come at eight and wait until you are free, you could + give me, perhaps, another hour of yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and with the greatest pleasure. But why at those hours?” asked the + priest with some curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am very busy at other times. But I want to be quite frank. If I + come, it will not be because I need your service, but because I shall want + to see YOU. Your church is not my church, and never has been, but your + people—especially your priests—have always had my admiration + and respect. I have known many of your brethren in my time. One in + particular, who is now very old—a dear abbe, living in Paris. Heaven + is made up of just such saints.” + </p> + <p> + The priest clasped his hands together. “We have many such, sir,” he + replied solemnly. The acknowledgment came reverently, with a gleam that + shone from under the heavy brows. + </p> + <p> + Felix caught its brilliance, and the sense of a certain bigness in the man + passed through him. He had been prepared for his quiet, well-bred dignity. + All the priests he had known were thoroughbreds in their manner and + bearing; their self-imposed restraint, self-effacement, absence of all + unnecessary gesture, and modulated voices had made them so; but the warmth + of this one's underlying nature was as unexpected as it was pleasurable. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have many such,” O'Day repeated simply after a slight pause + during which his thoughts seemed to have wandered afar. “And now tell me,” + he asked, rousing himself to renewed interest, “where your work lies—your + real work, I mean. The mass is your rest.” + </p> + <p> + The priest turned quickly. He wondered if there were a purpose behind the + question. “Oh, among my people,” he answered, the slow, even, + non-committal tones belying the eagerness of his gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; but go on. This is a great city—greater than I had + ever supposed—greater, in many ways, than London. The luxury and + waste are appalling; the misery is more appalling still. What sort of men + and women do you put your hands on?” + </p> + <p> + “Here are some of them,” answered the priest, his forefinger pointing to + Kitty and John. + </p> + <p> + “We could all of us do without churches and priests,” ventured Felix, his + eyes kindling, “if your parishioners were as good as these dear people.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's Bobby,” laughed the priest, his face turned toward the boy, + who was sound asleep in his chair, Toodles, the door-mat of a dog, + sprawled at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “And are there no others, Father Cruse?” + </p> + <p> + The priest, now convinced of a hidden meaning in the insistent tones, grew + suddenly grave, and laid his hand on O'Day's knee. “Come and see me some + time, and I will tell you. My district runs from Fifth Avenue to the East + River, from the homes of the rich to the haunts of the poor, and there is + no form of vice and no depth of suffering the world over that does not + knock daily at my study door. Do not let us talk about it here. Perhaps + some day we may work together, if you are willing.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty, who had been listening, her heart throbbing with pride over Felix, + who had held his own with her beloved priest, and still fearing that the + talk would lead away from what was uppermost in her mind—O'Day's + welfare—now sprang from her chair before Felix could reply. “Of + course he'll come, Father, once he's seen ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will,” answered Felix cordially. “And it will not be very long + either, Father. And now I must say good night. It has been a real pleasure + to meet you. You have been a most kindly grindstone to a very dull and + useless knife, and I am greatly sharpened up. After all, I think we both + agree that it is rather difficult to keep anything bright very long unless + you rub it against something still brighter and keener. Thank you again, + Father,” and with a pat of his fingers on Kitty's shoulder as he passed, + and a good night to John, he left the room on his way to his chamber + above. + </p> + <p> + Kitty waited until the sound of O'Day's footsteps told her that he had + reached the top of the stairs and then turned to the priest. “Well, what + do ye think of him? Have I told ye too much? Did ye ever know the beat of + a man like that, livin' in a place like this and eatin' at my table, and + never a word of complaint out o' him, and everybody lovin' him the moment + they clap their two eyes on him?” + </p> + <p> + The priest made no immediate answer. For some seconds he gazed into the + fire, then looked at John as if about to seek some further enlightenment, + but changing his mind faced Kitty. “Is his mail sent here?” + </p> + <p> + “What? His letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He don't have any—not one since he's been wid us.” + </p> + <p> + “Anybody come to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Niver a soul.” + </p> + <p> + The priest ruminated for a moment more, and then said slowly, as if his + mind were made up: “It does not matter; somebody or something has hurt + him, and he has gone off to die by himself. In the old days such men + sought the monasteries; to-day they try to lose themselves in the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + Again he ruminated, the delicate antennae of his hands meeting each other + at the tips. + </p> + <p> + “A most extraordinary case,” he said at last. “No malice, no bitterness—yet + eating his heart out. Pitiful, really; and the worst thing about it is + that you can't help him, for his secret will die with him. Bring him to me + sometime, and let me know before you come so I may be at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think there's anything crooked about him, Father, do you?” said + John, who had sat tilted back against the wall and now brought the front + legs of his chair to the floor with a bang. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by crooked. John?” asked the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he blew in here from nowheres, bringin' a couple of trunks and a + hat-box, and not much in 'em, from what Kitty says. And he might blow out + again some fine night, leavin' his own full of bricks, carting off instead + some I keep on storage for my customers, full of God knows what!—but + somethin' that's worth money, or they wouldn't have me take care of 'em. + There ain't nothin' to prevent him, for he's got the run of the place day + and night. And Kitty's that dead stuck on him she'll believe anything he + says.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty wheeled around in her seat, her big strong fist tightly clinched. + “Hold your tongue, John Cleary!” she cried indignantly. “I'd knock any man + down—I don't care how big he was—that would be a-sayin' that + of ye without somethin' to back it up, and that's what'll happen to ye if + ye don't mend your manners. Can't ye see, Father, that Mr. Felix O'Day is + the real thing, and no sham about him? I do, and Kling does, and so does + that darlin' Masie, and every man, woman, and child around here that can + get their hands on him or a word wid him. Shame on ye, John! Tell him so, + Father Cruse!” + </p> + <p> + The priest kept silent, waiting until the slight family squall—never + very long nor serious between John and Kitty—had spent itself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not sayin' anything against Mr. O'Day, Kitty,” broke in John. + “I'm only askin' for information. What do you think of him, Father? What's + he up to, anyhow? There ain't any of 'em can fool ye. I don't want to + watch him—I ain't got no time—and I won't if he's all right.” + </p> + <p> + The priest rose from his chair and stood looking down at Kitty, his hands + clasped behind his back. “You believe in him, do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I do—up to the handle-and I don't care who knows it!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I would not worry, John Cleary, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what does she know about it, Father?” + </p> + <p> + “What every good woman always knows about every good man. And now I must + go.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII + </h2> + <p> + As was to be expected, Kitty's first words to O'Day on the following + morning related to his meeting with Father Cruse. “Ye'll not find a better + man anywhere,” she had said to him, “and there ain't a trouble he can't + cure.” + </p> + <p> + Felix had smiled at her enthusiasm for her idol and comforted her by + saying that it had given him distinct pleasure to meet him, adding: “A big + man with a big soul, that priest of yours, Mistress Kitty. I begin to see + now why you and your husband lead such human lives. Yes—a fine man.” + </p> + <p> + But no closer intimacy ensued, nor did he pursue the acquaintance—not + even on the following Sunday, when Kitty urged him, almost to importunity, + to go and hear the Father say mass. He was not ready as yet, he said to + himself, for friendships among men of his own intellectual caliber. In the + future he might decide otherwise. For the present, at least, he meant to + find whatever peace and comfort he could among the simple people + immediately around him—meagrely educated, often strangely + narrow-minded, but possessing qualities which every day aroused in him a + profounder admiration. + </p> + <p> + With the quick discernment of the man of the world—one to whom many + climes and many people were familiar—he had begun to discover for + himself that this great middle class was really the backbone of the whole + civil structure about him, its self-restraint, sanity, and cleanliness + marking the normal in the tide-gauge of the city's activities; the + hysteria of the rich and the despair of the poor being the two extremes. + </p> + <p> + Here, as he repeatedly observed, were men absorbed in their several humble + occupations, proud of their successes, helpful of those who fell by the + wayside, good citizens and good friends, honest in their business + relations, each one going about his appointed task and leaving the other + fellow unmolested in his. Here, too, were women, good mothers to their + children and good wives to their husbands, untiring helpmates, regarding + their responsibilities as mutual, and untroubled as yet by thoughts of + their own individual identities or what their respective husbands owed to + them. + </p> + <p> + This was why, instead of renewing his acquaintance with Father Cruse, he + preferred to halt for a few minutes' talk with some one of Kitty's + neighbors—it might be the liveryman next door who had been forty + years on the Avenue, or one of the shopkeepers near by, most of whom were + welcome to Kitty's sitting-room and kitchen, and all of whom had shared + her coffee. Or it might be that he would call at Digwell's, whose + undertaker's shop was across the way and whose door was always open, the + gas burning as befitted one liable to be called upon at any hour of the + day or night; or perhaps he would pass the time of day with Pestler, the + druggist; or give ten minutes to Porterfield, listening to his talk about + the growing prices of meat. + </p> + <p> + Had you asked his former associates why a man of O'Day's intelligence + should have cultivated the acquaintance of an undertaker like Digwell, for + instance, whose face was a tombstone, his movements when on duty those of + a crow stepping across wet places in a cornfield, they would have shaken + their heads in disparaging wonder. Had you asked Felix he would have + answered with a smile: “Why to hear Digwell laugh!” And then, warming to + his subject, he would have told you what a very jolly person Digwell + really was, if you were fortunate enough to find him unoccupied in his + private den, way back in the rear of his shop. How he had entertained him + by the hour with anecdotes of his early life when he was captain of a + baseball team, and what fun he had gotten out of it, and did still, when + he could sneak away to help pack the benches. + </p> + <p> + Had you inquired about Pestler, the druggist, there would have followed + some such reply as: “Pestler? Did you say? Because Pestler is one of the + most surprising men I know. He has kept that same shop, he tells me, for + twenty-two years. Of course, he knows only a very little about drugs—just + enough to keep him out of the hands of the police—but then none of + you are aware, perhaps, that Pestler is also a student? You might think, + when you saw only the top of his fuzzy, half-bald head sticking up above + the wooden partition, that he was putting up a prescription, but you would + be wrong. What he is really doing, with the aid of his microscope, is + dissecting bugs, and pasting them on glass slides for use in the public + schools. And he plays the violin—and very well, too! He often + entertains me with his music.” + </p> + <p> + Sanderson, the florist, was another denizen who interested him. To look at + Sanderson tying ribbons on funeral wreaths, no one would ever have + supposed that there was rarely a first night at the opera at which he was + not present, paying for his ticket, too, and rather despising Pestler, who + got his theatre tickets free because he allowed the managers the use of + his windows for advertisements. Felix forgave even his frozen roses + whenever the Scotchman, having found a sympathetic listener, launched out + upon his earlier experiences among opera stars, especially his + acquaintance with Patti, whom he had known before she became great and + whom he always spoke of as devotees do of the Madonna—with bated + breath and a sigh of despair that he would never hear her again. + </p> + <p> + Then, too, there was Codman. O'Day was always enthusiastic over Codman. “I + have taken a great fancy to that fishmonger, and a fine fellow he is,” he + said one night to Kitty and John. “His shop was shut when I first called + on him, but he was good enough to open it at my knock, and I have just + spent half an hour, and a very delightful half-hour, watching him handle + the sea food, as he calls it, in his big refrigerator. I got a look, too, + at his chest and his arms, and at his pretty wife and children. She is + really the best type of the two. American, you say, both of them, and a + fine pair they are, and he tells me he pulled a surf-boat in your + coast-guard when he was a lad of twenty, then took up fishing, and then + went into Fulton Market, helping at a stall, and now he is up here with + two delivery wagons and four assistants and is a member of a fish union, + whatever that is. It's astonishing! And yet I have met him many a time + pushing his baby-carriage around the block.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Kitty answered, putting on a shovel of coal, “and I'll lay ye a + wager, Mr. O'Day, that Polly Codman will be drivin' through Central Park + in her carriage before five years is out; and she deserves it, for there + ain't a finer woman from here to the Battery.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite sure of it, Mistress Kitty. That is where the American comes + in—or, perhaps it is the New Yorker. I have not been here long + enough to find out.” + </p> + <p> + Of all these neighbors, however, it was Timothy Kelsey, the hunchback, + largely because of his misfortunes and especially because of his vivid + contrast to all the others, who appealed to him most. Tim, as has been + said, kept the second-hand book-shop, half-way down the block on the + opposite side of the street. He was but a year or two older than O'Day, + but you would never have supposed it had Tim not told you—and not + then unless you had looked close and followed the lines of care deep cut + in his face and the wrinkles that crowded close to his deep, hollowed-out + eyes. When he was a boy of two, his sister, a girl of six, had let him + drop to the sidewalk, and he had never since straightened his back. The + customary outlets by which fully equipped men earn their living having + been denied Tim, he had passed his boyhood days in one of the small, + down-town libraries cataloguing the books. With this came the opportunity + to attend the auction sales when some rare volume was to be bid for, he + representing the library. A small shop of his own followed in the lower + part of the town, and then the one a little below Kling's, where he lived + alone with only a caretaker to look after his wants. + </p> + <p> + Kelsey had arrived one morning shortly after Felix had entered Kling's + service, carrying a heavily bound book which he laid on a glass case under + Otto's nose. “Take a look at it, Otto,” he said, after pausing a moment to + get his breath, the volume being heavy. “There is more brass than leather + on the outside, and more paint than text on the inside. I have two others + from the same collection. It is in your line rather than in mine, I take + it. What do you think of it? Could you sell it?” + </p> + <p> + Kling dropped his glasses from his forehead to the bridge of his flat + nose. “Vell! Dot is a funny-looking book, Tim. Dot is awful old, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, seventeenth century, I think,” replied Tim. + </p> + <p> + “Vot you tink, Mr. O'Day? Ain't dot a k'veer book? Oh, you don't have met + my new clerk, have you, Tim? Vell dot's funny, for he lives over at + Kitty's. Vell, dis is him—Mr. Felix O'Day. Tim Kelsey is an olt + friend of mine, Mr. O'Day. You must have seen dot k'veer shop vich falls + down into de cellar from de sidevalk—vell, dat's Tim's.” + </p> + <p> + Felix smiled good-naturedly, bowed to Kelsey, and taking the huge, + brass-bound volume in his hands, passed his fingers gently across the + leather and then over the heavy clamps, turning the book to the light of + the window so as to examine the chasing the closer. Tim, who had been + watching him, remarked the ease with which he handled the volume and the + care with which he ran his eye along the edges of the inside of the back + before paying the slightest attention to the quality of the vellum or to + the title-page. + </p> + <p> + “Did you say you thought it was seventeenth century, Mr. Kelsey?” Felix + asked thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I would put it somewhat earlier. The binding is wholly tool-work, much + older than the brasses, which, I think, have been renewed—at least + the clamps—certainly one of them is of a later period. The vellum + and the illuminated text”—again he scrutinized the title-page, this + time turning a few of the inside leaves—“is before Gutenberg's time. + Handwork, of course, by some old monk. Very curious and very interesting. + And you say there are two others like this one?” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback, whose big, shaggy head reached but a very little above the + case over which the colloquy was taking place, stretched himself upon his + toes as if to see Felix the better. “You seem to know something of books, + sir,” he remarked in a surprised tone. “May I ask where you picked it up?” + </p> + <p> + Again Felix smiled, a curious expression lurking around his thin lips—a + way with him when he intended to be non-committal. He was now more + interested in the speaker than in the object before him, especially in the + big dome head and sunken eyes, shaded by bushy eyebrows, the only feature + of the man which seemed to have had a chance to grow to its normal size. + He had caught, too, a certain high-pitched note, one of suffering running + through the hunchback's speech—often discernible in those who have + been robbed of their full physical strength and completeness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know, Mr. Kelsey. There are, as you know, but few old clamp + books like this in existence. There are some in the Bibliotheque in Paris, + and a good many in Spain. I remember handling one some years ago in + Cordova. When you have seen a fine example you are not apt to forget it. + Why do you sell it?” + </p> + <p> + Kelsey settled down upon his heels—the upper half of his misshapen + body telescoping the lower—and shoved both hands into his pockets. + “I did not come here to sell it”—there was a touch of irony in his + voice—“I came to find out whether Kling could sell it. Do you think + YOU could?” + </p> + <p> + “I might, or I might not. Only a few people about here, so I understand, + can appreciate this sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it worth?” He was still eying him closely. People who praised his + things were those who never wanted to buy. + </p> + <p> + “Not very much,” replied Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I thought you said it was very rare?” + </p> + <p> + “So it is—almost too rare—and almost too old. If it had been + done fifty or more years later, on one of Gutenberg's presses, Quaritch + might give you two thousand pounds for it. Hand-work—which ought + really to be more valuable than machine-work—is worth pence, where + the other sells for pounds. One of Gutenberg's Bibles sold here a year ago + for three thousand guineas, so I am told. What are the other two like?” + </p> + <p> + “No difference—a clasp is gone from one. The other is—” He + stopped, his mien suddenly changing to one of marked respect, even to one + of awe. “Will you do me a favor, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure”—again the same quiet smile. He had read the + financial workings of the bookseller's mind with infinite amusement and + decided to see more of him. “What can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to come over with me to my shop. You won't object, will you, + Otto? I won't keep him a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me come a little later, sir, say about nine o'clock. I have work here + until six and an engagement, which is important, until nine. You are open + as late as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am always open, or can be,” Kelsey answered. “What would I shut up + shop for except to keep out the rats—human and otherwise? I live in + my place, and, as I live alone, nobody ever disturbs me—nobody I + want to see—and I do want you, and want you very much. Well, then, + come at nine, and if the blinds are up, ring the bell.” And so the + acquaintance began. + </p> + <p> + And yet, interesting as he found these diversions with his neighbors, + there were moments when, despite his determination to be cheerful and to + add his quota to the general fund of good-fellowship, he had to summon all + his courage to prevent his spirit sinking to its lowest ebb. It was then + he would turn to the thing that lay nearest to hand, his work—work + often so irksome to him that, but for his sense both of obligation and of + justice to his employer and his love for Masie, he would have abandoned it + altogether. + </p> + <p> + A possible relief came when through the protests of a customer he had + begun to realize the clearer Kling's deficiencies and had, in consequence, + cast about for some plan of helping him to do a larger and more + remunerative business. + </p> + <p> + Several ways by which this could be accomplished were outlined in his + mind. The disorder everywhere apparent in the shop should first come to an + end. The present chaos of tables, chairs, bureaus, and sideboards, heaped + higgledy-piggledy one upon the other—the customers edging their way + between lanes of dusty furniture—must next be abolished. So must the + jumble of glass, china, curios, and lamps. This completed, color and form + would be considered, each taking its proper place in the general scheme. + </p> + <p> + To accomplish these results, all the unsalable, useless, and ugly + furniture taking up valuable space must be carted away to some auction + room and sold for what it would bring. Light, air, and much-needed room + would then follow, and prices advanced to make up for the loss on the + “rattletrap” and the “rickety.” Stuffs which had been poked away in + worthless bureau drawers for years, as being too ragged even to show, were + next to be hauled out, patched, and darned, and then hung on the bare + white walls, concealing the dirt and the cracks. + </p> + <p> + And these improvements, strange to say—Kling being as obstinate as + the usual Dutch cabinetmaker, and as set in his ways—were finally + carried out; slowly at first, and with a rush later when every customer + who entered the door began by complimenting Otto on the improvement. Soon + the sales increased to such an extent and the stock became so depleted + that Kling was obliged to look around for articles of a better and higher + grade to take its place. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture a happy and unforeseen accident came to his aid. A + bric-a-brac dealer with a shop in Jersey City filled with some very good + English and Italian patterns and a fine assortment of European gatherings—most + of them rare, and all of them good—fell ill and was ordered to + Colorado for his health. His wife had insisted on going with him, and thus + the whole concern, including its good-will—worthless to Kling—was + offered to him at half its value. + </p> + <p> + O'Day spent the entire morning crawling in and out of the interstices of + the choked-up Jersey City shop; Masie, as his valuable assistant, propped + up with Fudge on a big table until he had finished. The next day the + bargain was made. Mike, Bobby, the two Dutchies, and both Kitty's teams + were then called in and the transfer began. + </p> + <p> + It was when this collection of things really worth having were being moved + into their new home under Felix's personal direction that Masie announced + to him an important event. They were on the second floor at the time, + overlooking Hans and Mike, who had just brought up-stairs the first of the + purchase, a huge, high-backed gilt chair, stately in its proportions—Spanish, + Felix thought—with a few renovations about the arms and back, but a + good specimen withal. The chair had evidently excited her imagination, + reminding her, perhaps, of some of the pictures in Tim Kelsey's fairy + books, for after looking at it for a moment she began clapping her hands + and whirling about the room. + </p> + <p> + “I've thought of such a lovely thing, Uncle Felix! Let's play kings and + queens! I will sit in this chair and will dress Fudge up like a page and + everybody will come up and courtesy, or I will be the fairy princess and + you will be my beauty prince, and—” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who was holding up the heavy end of a piece of tapestry while the + two men were clearing a place for it behind the chair, called out, “When's + all this to happen, Tootcoms?”—one of his pet names; he had a dozen + of them. + </p> + <p> + “Next Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “Why next Saturday?” + </p> + <p> + “Because then I'm eleven years old, and you know that a great many fairy + princesses are never any older.” + </p> + <p> + Down went the tapestry. “Your birthday! You blessed little angel! Eleven + years old! My goodness, how time flies! Pretty soon you will be in long + dresses, with your hair in a knot on the top of your head. You never told + me a word about it!” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I do now. And I am just going to have a party—a real party. + And I am going to invite everybody, all the girls I know and all the boys + and all the old people.” + </p> + <p> + Felix had her beside him now, her fresh young cheek against his. “You + don't tell me! Well! I never heard anything like it! And what will your + father say?” + </p> + <p> + Her face fell. “Don't let's tell him! Let's have a surprise.” + </p> + <p> + Felix shook his head. “I am afraid we could never do that, unless we + locked him up in the cellar and did not give him a thing to eat until + everything was ready. Oh, just think how he would beg for mercy!” + </p> + <p> + Masie rubbed her cheek up and down that of Felix in disapproval. “No, you + wouldn't be so mean to poor Popsy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, suppose—suppose—” and he held her teasingly from + him to note the effect of his words—“suppose we make him go away—way + off somewhere, to buy something—so far away that he could not come + back until the next day. How would that do?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that won't do—not a little bit! I've got a better plan. You go + right down-stairs this minute and tell him it's all fixed, and that I'm + going out this very afternoon to invite everybody myself.” + </p> + <p> + Felix made a wry fate. “Suppose he sends me about my business?” + </p> + <p> + “He won't. He thinks you are the most WONDERFUL man in the world—he + told Mr. Kelsey so; I heard him—and he won't refuse you anything—oh, + Uncle Felix”—both arms were around his neck now, always her last + argument—“I do so want a birthday party and I want it right here in + this room.” + </p> + <p> + Felix smoothed back the hair from her pleading eyes and kissed her + tenderly on the forehead. For a moment there was silence between them, he + continuing to smooth back her hair, she cuddling the tighter, her usual + way. She always let him think a while and it always came out right. But he + had made up his mind. It had been years since a birthday of his own had + been celebrated; nor had he ever helped, so far as he could recollect, to + celebrate the birthday of any child. Yes, Masie should have her birthday, + if he could bring it about, and it should be the happiest of all her life. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he rose, releasing his neck from her grasp, and ran his eyes + around the almost bare interior—the big chair being the only + article, so far, in place. “It will make a grand banquet hall, Masie,” he + said, as if speaking more to himself than to her. “Let me see!” He walked + half the length of the floor and began studying the walls and the bare + rafters of the ceiling. These last had once been yellow-washed, age and + dust having turned the kalsomine to an old-gold tint, reminding him of a + ceiling belonging to a Venetian palace. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he continued, with the same abstracted air, his head upturned, + “there's a good place for hanging a big lamp, if there is one in the new + lot, and there are spots where I can hang twenty or more smaller ones. I + will cover the side walls with stuffs and embroideries and put those long + Italian settees against—yes, Tweety-kins, it will come out all + right. It will make a splendid banquet hall! And after the party we will + leave it just so. Fine, my child! And I have an idea, too—a + brilliant idea. Hans, ask Mr. Kling to be good enough to come up here!” + </p> + <p> + With the surrender of her Uncle Felix, Masie resumed her spinning around + the room and kept it up until the father's bald head showed clear above + the top of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Masie has had one brilliant idea, Mr. Kling, and I have another. I will + tell you mine first.” It was wonderful how thoroughly he understood the + Dutchman. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, vot is it?” Otto had sniffed something unusual in the atmosphere + and was on the defensive. When there was only one to deal with he + sometimes had his way; never when they were leagued together. + </p> + <p> + “I propose,” continued O'Day, “to turn this whole floor into the sort of a + room one could live in—like many of the great halls I have seen + abroad—and I think we have enough material to make a success of it, + plenty of space in which to put everything where it belongs. Leave that + big chair where I have placed it, throw some rugs on the floor, nail the + stuffs and tapestries to the walls, fasten the brackets and sconces and + appliques on top of them, filled with candles, and hang the lanterns and + church lamps to the rafters. When I finish with it, you will have a room + to which your customers will flock.” + </p> + <p> + Kling, bewildered, followed the play of O'Day's fingers in the air as if + he were already placing the ornaments and hangings with which his mind was + filled. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, vot ve do vid de stuff dot's comin'—all dem sideboards and + chairs and de pig tables? Ve ain't got de space.” + </p> + <p> + “Half of them will go here, and the balance we will pile away on the top + floor. When these are sold then we'll bring down the others—always + keeping up the character of the room. That is my idea. What do you think + of it?” + </p> + <p> + The shopkeeper hesitated, his fat features twisted in calculation. Every + move of his new salesman had brought him in double his money. The placing + of his goods so that a customer would be compelled to crawl over a table + in order to see whether a chair had three whole legs or two, dust and + darkness helping, had always seemed to him one of the tricks of the trade + and not to be abandoned lightly. + </p> + <p> + “You mean dot ve valk 'round loose in de middle, and everyting is shoved + back de Vall behind, so you can see it all over?” + </p> + <p> + Felix smothered a smile. “Certainly, why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, Mr. O'Day, I don't know.” Then, noticing the quickly drawn brows of + his clerk's face and the shadow of disappointment: “Of course, ve can try + it, and if it don't vork ve do it over, don't ve?” + </p> + <p> + Masie slipped her arm through O'Day's and began a joyous tattoo with her + foot. She knew now that Felix had carried the day. + </p> + <p> + “And now for Masie's idea, Mr. Kling.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dere is someting else, eh? I tought dere vould be ven you puts your + two noddles togedder—Vell, vot is dot all about, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “She is to have a birthday. She will be eleven years old next Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jeminy, yes, dot's so! I forgot dot, Masie. Yes, it comes on de + tventy-fust. Vy you don't tell me before, little Beesvings?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, next Saturday; only four days off,” continued Felix, forging ahead + to avoid any side-tracking of his main theme. “And what are you going to + do for her? Not many more of them before she will be out of the window + like a bird, and off with somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + Otto ruminated. He loved his daughter, even if he did sometimes forget her + very existence. “Oh, I don't know. I guess ve buy her sometings putty—vot + you like to have, Beesvings? Or maybe you like to go to de teater vid + Auntie Gossburger. I get de tickets.” + </p> + <p> + The child disengaged her hand from O'Day's arm, pushed back her hair and + tiptoed to her father. “I want a party, Popsy—a real party,” she + whispered, tipping his chin back with her fingers, so he could look at her + through his spectacles—not over them, like an ogre. + </p> + <p> + “Vere you have it?” This came in a bewildered way, as if the pair had the + big ballroom at Delmonico's in the back of their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Here, in this very place,” broke in Felix, “after I get it in order.” + </p> + <p> + Kling, gently freeing himself from Masie's hold, stared at his clerk. “Dot + vill cost a lot of money, don't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, who is coming? De childer all around?” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody is coming—big, little, and middle-sized,” answered Felix. + The cat was all out of the bag now. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, dot's vot I said. You don't can get someting for nodding. You must + have blenty to eat and drink.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Some simple refreshment will do—sandwiches, cake, and some + ice-cream. I'll take care of that myself, if you'll permit me.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, now stop a minute vunce—here is anudder idea. Suppose ve make + it a Dutch treat—everybody bring sometings. Ve had vun last vinter + at Budvick's, de upholsterer, ven he vas married tventy-five years. I give + de apples—more as half a peck.” + </p> + <p> + Felix broke into a hearty, ringing laugh—one of the few either Masie + or his employer had ever heard escape his lips. + </p> + <p> + “We will let you off without even the apples this time,” he said, when he + recovered himself. “They are not coming to get something to eat this time. + I will give them something better.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say everybody is comin'. Who is dot everybody?” + </p> + <p> + “Just leave it all to me, Mr. Kling. And give yourself no concern. I am + going to use everything we have: all our cups and saucers, no matter + whether they are Spode, Lowestoft, or Worcester; all the platters, German + beer mugs, candlesticks—even that rare old tablecloth trimmed with + church lace. This is an entertainment to be given by a distinguished + antiquary in honor of his lovely daughter”—and he bowed to each in + turn—“the whole conducted under the management of his junior clerk, + Mr. F. O'Day, who is very much at your service, sir.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VIII + </h2> + <p> + Bright and early the following morning Felix began work, and for the next + two days took entire charge of the room, walking up and down its length, + an absolute dictator, brooking no interference from any one. When Mike's + frowsy head or Hans's grimy hands appeared above the level of the landing + from the floor below, steadying with their chins some new possession, it + was either, “here, in the middle of the room, men!” or, if it were big and + cumbersome, “up-stairs, out of the way!” This had gone on until the + banquet hall was one conglomerate mass of mixed chattels from the Jersey + shop, Kling's old stock being stowed in some other part of the building. + Then began the picking out. First the doubtful, but rich in color, + tapestries, then the rugs—some fairly good ones—stuffs, old + and new, and every available rag which would hold together were spread + over the four walls and the front windows. The heavier and more decorative + pieces of furniture came next—among them a huge wooden altar which + had never been put together and which was now backed close against the + tapestries and hanging rugs in the centre of the long wall. Two Venetian + wedding-chests, low enough to sit upon, were next placed in position, and + between them three Spanish armchairs in faded velvet and one in crinkly + leather, held together by big Moorish nails of brass. Above these chests + and chairs were hung gilt brackets holding church candles, Spanish mirrors + so placed that the shortest woman in the party could see her face, and big + Italian disks of dull metal. The walls were wonderful in their rich + simplicity, and so was the disposition of the furniture, Felix's skilful + eye having preserved the architectural proportions in both the selection + and placing of the several articles. + </p> + <p> + More wonderful than all else, however, was the great gold throne at the + end of the room, on which Masie was to sit and receive her guests and + which was none other than the big cardinal's chair, incrusted with mouldy + gilt, that had first inspired her with the idea of the party. This was + hoisted up bodily and placed on an auctioneer's platform which Mike had + found tilted back against the wall in the cellar. To hide its dirt and + cracks, rugs were laid, pieced out by a green drugget which extended half + across the floor, now swept of everything except two refreshment tables. + </p> + <p> + Next came the ceiling. What Felix did to that ceiling, or rather what that + ceiling did for Felix, and how it looked when he was through with it is to + this very day a topic of discussion among the now scattered inhabitants of + “The Avenue.” Masie knew, and so did deaf Auntie Gossburger, who often + spent the day with the child. She, with Masie, had been put in charge of + the china and glass department, and when the old woman had pulled up from + the depths of a barrel first one red cup without a handle and then a dozen + or more, and had asked what they were for, Felix had seized them with a + cry of joy: “Oil cups! They fit on the tops of these church lamps. I never + expected to find these! Mike! Go over to Mr. Pestler's and tell him to + send me a small box of floating night-tapers—the smallest he has. + Now, Tootcums, you wait and see!” + </p> + <p> + And then the step-ladder was moved up, and Mike and one of the Dutchies + passed up the lamps to Felix, who drove the hooks into the rafters—twenty-two + of them—and then slid down to the floor, taking in the general + effect, only to clamber up again to lengthen this chain, or shorten that, + so that the whole ceiling, when the cups were filled and the tapers + lighted, would be a blaze of red stars hung in a firmament of dull, + yellow-washed gold. + </p> + <p> + The final touch came last. This was both a surprise and a discovery. Hans + had found it flattened out on the top of a big, circular table, and was + about to tear it loose when Felix, who let nothing escape his vigilant + eye, seized its metal handle, whereupon the mass sagged, tilted, + straightened, and then rounded out into a superb Chinese lantern of yellow + silk, decorated with black dragons, with only one tear in its entire + circumference, and that one Auntie Gossburger darned so skilfully that + nobody noticed the hole. This, Felix, after much consideration, swung to + the rafter immediately over the throne, so that its mellow light should + fall directly on the child's face. + </p> + <p> + Kling, while these preparations were in progress, was in a state of mind + bordering on the pathetic. Felix had made him promise not to come up until + the room was finished, but every few hours his head would be thrust up + over the edge of the stairs, his eyes screwed up in his fat face, an + expression of wonder, not unmixed with anxiety, flitting across his + countenance. Then he would back down-stairs, muttering to himself all the + time; his chief cause of complaint being the hiding of so many things his + customers might want to buy and the displaying of so many others at which + they might only want to look! + </p> + <p> + There was, however, even after the decorations seemed complete, a bare + corner to be filled with something neither too big, nor too small, nor too + insistent in color or form. Felix went twice over the stock, old and new, + twisted and turned, and was about to give up when he suddenly called to + Masie, his face lighting under the glow of a fresh inspiration: + </p> + <p> + “I have it now! Come, Tootcums, with me! Mr. Sanderson will help us out.” + All of which came true; for Mr. Sanderson, ten minutes later, had bent his + head close to the child's lips to hear the better, and had said: “Only + two? Why, Masie, you can have the lot.” And that was how the bare corner + was filled with three great palms—the biggest he had in his shop—and + the grand salon of the Grande Duchesse Masie Beeswings de Kling at last + made ready for her guests. + </p> + <p> + This done, Felix made a final inspection of the room, adding a touch here + and there—shifting a piece of pottery or redraping the frayed end of + a square of tapestry—and finding that everything kept its place in + the general effect, without a single discordant note, drew Masie to a seat + beside him on one of the old Venetian chests. Here, with his arms about + the enthusiastic child, he laid bare the next and to him the most + important number on the programme. + </p> + <p> + And in this he wrought another upheaval, one almost as great as had taken + place in the room. The time-honored custom of all birthday parties + entailing upon the invited the giving of presents as proof of affection, + was not, he hinted gently, to be observed upon this occasion. “It is Masie + who is to give the presents,” he whispered, holding her closer, “and not + her guests.” + </p> + <p> + The child at first had protested. The long procession of guests coming up + to hand her their gifts, and her fun next day when looking them over—knowing + how queer some of them would be—had been part of her joyful + anticipation, but Felix would not yield. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Masie, darling,” he coaxed, “now that you are going to be a real + princess,” he was smoothing back her curls as he spoke, “you are going to + be so high up in the world that nobody will dare to give you any presents. + That is the way with all princesses. Kings and queens are never given + presents on their birthdays unless their permission is asked, but, just + because they ARE kings and queens, they give presents to everybody else. + And then again, Masie, dear, if you stop to think about it, people really + get a great deal more fun out of giving things than they do of having + things given to them.” + </p> + <p> + She succumbed, as she always did, when her “Uncle Felix,” with his voice + lowered to a whisper, his lips held close to her ear, either counselled or + chided her, and a new joy thrilled through her as he explained how his + plan was to be carried out. + </p> + <p> + Kling lifted up his hands in protest when he heard of O'Day's innovation, + but was overruled and bowled over before he had framed his first sentence. + It was the sentiment, Felix insisted, which was to be considered, the good + feeling behind the gift, not the cost of it. He and Masie had worked it + all out together, and please not to interfere. + </p> + <p> + But Kling did interfere, and right royally, too, when he found time to + think it over. Some one of the old German legends must have worked its way + through the dull crust of his brain, bringing back memories of his + childhood. Perhaps his conscience was pricked by his clerk's attitude. + Whatever the cause, certain it is that he crept up-stairs a few hours + before his house was to be thrown open to Masie's guests, and, finding the + banquet hall completely finished and nobody about, Felix and Masie having + gone out together to perfect some little detail connected with the gifts, + walked around in an aimless way, overwhelmed by the beauty and charm of + the interior as it lay before him in the afternoon light. + </p> + <p> + On his way down he met the deaf Gossburger coming up. + </p> + <p> + “Dot is awful nice!” he shouted. “I couldn't believe dot was possible! Dot + is a vunderful—VUNderful man! I don't see how dem rags and dot stuff + look like dot ven you get 'em togedder anodder vay. And now dere is vun + thing I don't got in my head yet: Vot is it about dese presents?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman recounted the details as best she could. + </p> + <p> + “And dot is all, is it, Auntie Gossburger? Only of pasteboard boxes vid + candies in 'em, and little pieces paper vid writings on 'em dot Mr. O'Day + makes? Is dot vot you mean?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman nodded. + </p> + <p> + Kling turned suddenly, went down-stairs with his head up and shoulders + back, called Hans to keep shop, and put on his hat. + </p> + <p> + When he returned an hour later, he was followed by a man carrying a big + box. This was placed behind Masie's throne and so concealed by a rug that + even Felix missed seeing it. + </p> + <p> + That everybody had accepted—everybody who had been invited—“big, + little, and middle-sized”—goes without saying. Masie had called at + each house herself, with Felix as cavalier—just as he had promised + her. And they had each and every one, immediately abandoned all other + plans for that particular night, promising to be there as early as could + be arranged, it being a Saturday and the shops on “The Avenue” open an + hour later than usual—an indulgence counterbalanced by the fact that + next day was Sunday and they could all sleep as long as they pleased. + </p> + <p> + And not only the neighbors, but Nat Ganger and Sam Dogger accepted. Felix + had gone down himself with Masie's message, and they both had said they + would come—Sam to be on hand half an hour before the appointed hour + of nine so as to serve as High Lord of the Robes, Masie having determined + that nobody but “dear old Mr. Dogger” should show her how to put on the + costume he had given her. + </p> + <p> + As for these two castaways, when they did enter the gorgeous room on the + eventful night they fairly bubbled over. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let old Kling touch it,” Ganger roared out as soon as he stepped + inside, before he had even said “How do you do?” to anybody. “Keep it as + an exhibit. Better still, send circulars up and down Fifth Avenue, and + open it up as a school—not one of 'em knows how to furnish their + houses. How the devil did you—Oh, I see! Just plain yellow-wash and + the reflected red light. Looks like a stained-glass window in a measly old + church. Where's Sam. Oh, behind that screen. Well come out here and look + at that ceiling!” + </p> + <p> + Sam didn't come out, and didn't intend to. He was busy with the child's + curls, which were bunched up in the fingers of one hand, while the other + was pressing the wide leghorn hat into the precise angle which would + become her most, the Gossburger standing by with the rest of the costume, + Masie's face a sunburst of happiness. + </p> + <p> + “And now the long skirt, Mrs. Bombagger, or whatever your name is. That's + it, over her head first and then down along the floor so she will look as + if she was grown up. And now the big ostrich-plume fan—a little + seedy, my dear, and yellow as a kite's foot, but nobody'll see it under + that big, yellow lantern. Now let me look at you! Nat, NAT! where are you, + you beggar, stop rummaging around that dead stuff and come behind here and + look at this live child! yes, right in here. Now look! Did you ever in all + your born days see anything half so pretty?” the outburst ending with, + “Scat, you little devil of a dog!” when Fudge gave a howl at being stepped + upon. + </p> + <p> + Masie, as she listened, plumed her head as a pigeon would preen its + feathers, stood up to see her train sweep the floor, sat down again to + watch the stained satin folds crumple themselves about her feet, and was + at last so overcome by it all that she threw her arms around Sam, to his + intense delight, and kissed him twice, and would have given Nat an equal + number had not Felix called to him that the guests were beginning to + arrive. + </p> + <p> + As to these guests, you could not have gotten their names on one side of + Kitty's order-book, nor on both sides, for that matter. There was brisk, + bustling Bundleton the grocer in a green necktie, white waistcoat, and + checked trousers, arm and arm with his thin wife in black silk and mitts; + there was Heffern the dairyman in funeral black, relieved by a brown tie, + and his daughter, in variegated muslin, accompanied by two young men whom + neither Kling nor Felix nor the Gossburger had ever heard of or seen + before, but who were heartily welcomed; there were fat Porterfield the + butcher in his every-day clothes, minus his apron, with his two girls, + aged ten and fourteen, their hair in pigtails tied with blue ribbons; + there were Mr. and Mrs. Codman, all in their best “Sunday-go-to-meetings,” + with their little daughter Polly, named after the mother, pretty as a + picture and a great friend of Masie—most distinguished people were + the Codmans, he looking like an alderman and his wife the personification + of good humor, her rosy cheeks matching the tint of her husband's necktie. + </p> + <p> + There was Digwell the undertaker in his professional clothes, enlivened by + a white waistcoat and red scarf, quite beside himself with joy because + nobody had died or was likely to die so far as he had heard, thus + permitting him to “send dull care to the winds!”—his own way of + putting it. There was Pestler the druggist in an up-to-date dress suit as + good as anybody's—almost as good as the one Felix wore, and from + which, for the first time since he landed, he had shaken the creases. + There was Tim Kelsey, in the suit of clothes he wore every day, the only + difference being the high collar instead of the turned-down one, the + change giving him the appearance of a man with a bandaged neck, so narrow + were his poor shoulders and so big was the fine head overtopping it. There + were Mike and Bobby and the two Dutchies and Sanderson, who came with his + hands full of roses for Masie, and a score of others whose names the + scribe forgets, besides lots and lots of children of all sizes and ages. + </p> + <p> + And there were Kitty and John—and they were both magnificent—at + least Kitty was—she being altogether resplendent in black alpaca + finished off by a fichu of white lace, her big, full-bosomed, robust body + filling it without a crease; and he in a new suit bought for the occasion, + and which fitted him everywhere except around the waist—a defect + which Kitty had made good by means of a well-concealed safety-pin in the + back. + </p> + <p> + It was for Kitty that Felix had been on the lookout ever since the guests + began to arrive, and no sooner did her rosy, beaming face appear behind + that of her husband, than he pushed his way through the throng to reach + her side. “No, not out here, Mistress Kitty,” he cried. Had she been of + royal blood he could not have treated her with more distinction. “You are + to stand alongside of Masie when she comes in; the child has no mother, + and you must look after her.” + </p> + <p> + “No mother! Mr. O'Day! God rest your soul, she won't need to do without + one long, she's that lovely. There'll be plenty will want to mother, and + brother her, too, for that matter. My goodness, what a place ye made of + it! Look at them lamps, all fireworks up there, and that big chair! I + wonder who robbed a church to get it! Well—well—-WELL! John! + did ye ever see the like? Otto, ye ought to rent this place out for a + chowder-party ball. Well, well, I NEVER!” + </p> + <p> + The comments of some of the others, while they voiced their complete + surprise, were less enthusiastic. Bundleton, after shaking hands with + Felix and Kitty, and then with Kling, dropped his wife and made a tour of + the room without uttering a sound of any kind until he reached Felix + again, when he remarked gravely: “I should think it would worry you some + to keep the moths out of this stuff,” and then passed on to tell Kling he + must look out “them lamps didn't spill and set things on fire.” + </p> + <p> + Porterfield, as was to be expected, was distinctly practical. “Awful lot + of truck when you get it all together, ain't it, Mr. O'Day? I was just + tellin' my wife that them two chairs up t'other side of the room wouldn't + last long in my parlor, they're that wabbly. But maybe these Fifth Avenue + folks don't do no sittin'—just keep 'em in a glass case to look at.” + </p> + <p> + Pestler was more discerning. He had come across an iridescent glass jar, + and was edging around for an opportunity to ask Kling the price without + letting Felix overhear him—it being an occasion, he knew, in which + Mr. O'Day would feel offended if business were mentioned. “Might do to put + in my window, if it didn't cost too much,” he had begun, and as suddenly + stopped as he caught Felix's eyes fastened upon him. + </p> + <p> + There were others, however, whose delight could not be repressed. Tim + Kelsey, after the proper greetings were over, had wandered off down the + room, stopping to examine each article in its place on the walls. Finally + some pieces of old Delft caught his eye. He made a memorandum of two in a + little book he took from his inside pocket, and later on, when a break in + the surrounding conversation made it possible, remarked to Felix: “They + seem to get everything in the new Delft but the old delicious glaze. On a + wall it doesn't matter, but you don't feel like putting real old Delft on + a wall. I like to stroke it, as I would a friend's hand.” + </p> + <p> + These inspections and comments over, and that peculiar timidity which + comes over certain classes lifted out of their customary environment and + doing their best to become accustomed to new surroundings having begun to + wear away under the tactful welcome of Felix, and the hour having arrived + for the grand ceremony of gift-giving, the throne was pushed back, Masie + called from behind her screen, and O'Day's wicker basket filled with the + presents was laid by the side of the big chair. + </p> + <p> + Kling and Kitty were now beckoned to and placed on the left of the throne, + Felix taking up his position on the right. + </p> + <p> + The stir on the platform caused by these arrangements soon attracted + everybody's attention and a sudden hush fell upon the room. What was about + to happen nobody knew, but something important, or Mr. O'Day would not + have stepped to its edge, nor would Otto have been so red in the face, nor + Kitty so radiant. + </p> + <p> + Felix raised his hand to command supreme silence. + </p> + <p> + “Masie wishes me,” he began in his low, even voice, “to tell you that she + has done her best to remember every one, and that she hopes nobody has + been forgotten. These little trifles she is about to give you are not + gifts, but just little mementos to express her thanks for your kindness in + coming to her first party. She bids me tell you, too, that her love goes + out to every one of you on this the happiest night of her life and that + she welcomes you all with her whole heart.” + </p> + <p> + He turned, stepped back a pace, made the radiant child a low bow, held out + his hand, and led her into full view of the audience, the rays of the big + lantern softening the tones of the quaint, picturesque costume which + concealed her slight figure, transforming the child of eleven into the + woman of eighteen. + </p> + <p> + For at least ten seconds, and that is a long period of time when your + heart is in your mouth and you are ready to explode with uncontrollable + delight, not a sound of any kind broke the silence, no handclap of + welcome, no murmur of applause; just plain, simple astonishment, the kind + that takes your breath away. That Kling's little girl stood before them, + nobody believed. O'Day had fooled them with this new vision, just as he + had bewitched them by the glamour of the decorated room. Only when a few + simple words of welcome fell from her lips were the flood-gates opened. + Then a shout went up which set the candles winking—a shout only + surpassed in volume and good cheer when Felix began handing up the little + packages from Masie's basket. And dainty little packages they were, filled + with all sorts of inexpensive souvenirs that she and Felix (not much money + between the two of them) had picked up at Baxter's Toy Shop on Third + Avenue, all suggested by some peculiarity of the recipient, all kindly and + good-natured, and each one enlivened by a quotation or some original line + in Felix's own handwriting. + </p> + <p> + During the whole delightful ceremony Otto had stood on the left of his + daughter, his heart thumping away, his face growing redder every minute, + his eyes intent on each guest elbowing a way through the crowd as Masie + handed them their gifts, noting the general happiness and the laughter + that followed the reading of the lines, wondering all the time why no one + was offended at the size and, to him, worthlessness of the several + offerings. + </p> + <p> + When it was all over and the basket empty, he jumped down from the + platform, his fat back bent in excitement, tossed aside the rug, lifted + the big box, placed it beside the gilt throne, and raised his puffy hands + to command attention: “Now listen, everybody! I got someting to say. + Beesvings don't have all dis to herselluf. Now it is my turn. Come up + closer so I get hold of you. Vait, and I git back on de platform. Here, + you olt frent of mine, Dan Porterfield, here is a new butcher-knife + sharpener for you, to sharpen your knives on ven you cuts dem bifsteaks. + And, Heffern, come close; here is a silver-plated skimmer for dot cream + you make, and a pig fan for your daughter. And Polly Codman—git out + of de way dere, and let Polly Codman come up!—here, Polly, is a pair + of gloves for you and a muffler for Codman, and here is more gloves and + neckties and—I got a lot more; I didn't got much time and I bought + dem all in a hurry—and dey are all from me and Masie and don't you + forgit dot. I ain't never been so happy as I am to-night, and you vas + awful good to come and see my little girl dot don't got no mudder. And you + must all tank Mr. O'Day for de great help he vas. Now dot's all I got to + say.” + </p> + <p> + He drew his hand across his eyes, made an awkward bow, and sat down. + Everybody gasped in amazement. Many of them had known him for years, ever + since he moved into “The Avenue”—twenty years, at least—but + nobody had ever seen him as he was to-night. That he had in his intended + generosity overlooked half of his friends made no difference. Those who + received something showed it for weeks afterward to everybody who came. + Those who had nothing forgave him in their delight over the good-will he + had shown to the others. Even Felix, who had been watching him soften and + thaw out under the warmth of the child's happiness, and who thought he + knew the man and his nature, was astounded, and showed it by grasping for + the first time his employer's hand, looking him in the eyes as he said, “I + owe you an apology, sir,” a proceeding Otto often pondered over, its + meaning wholly escaping him. + </p> + <p> + But the great surprise of the evening, in which even Felix had had no + share, was yet to come. He had carried out his promise to provide the + simple refreshments, and a table had been set apart for their serving. The + sandwiches made at the bakeshop a block below had already arrived and been + put in place, and he was about to announce supper, when he became aware + that a mysterious conference was being held near the top of the stairs, in + which Kitty, Polly Codman, and Heffern's daughter Mary, were taking part. + He had already noticed, with some discomfiture, the absence of a number of + male guests, half of them having left the room without presenting + themselves before Masie to bid her good night, and was about to ask Kitty + for an explanation, when a series of thumping sounds reached his ear; + something heavy was being rolled along the floor beneath his feet. As the + noise increased, Kitty and her beaming coconspirators craned their necks + over the banisters and a welcoming roar went up. Bundleton's head now came + into view, a wreath of smilax wound loosely around his neck, followed by + one of his men carrying a keg of beer; another shouldering a sawhorse, a + wooden mallet, and a wooden spigot; and still a third with a basket of + stone mugs. + </p> + <p> + “Come, folks and neighbors, everybody have a glass of beer with me!” + shouted Bundleton. + </p> + <p> + Up went the sawhorse before you would wink your eye! Down went the keg + across its arms, the smilax around it! Bang went the bung! In went the + wooden spigot! And out flew the white froth! + </p> + <p> + Another roar now went up, accompanied by great clapping of hands. It was + Codman's head this time, a cook's cap resting on his ears, his hands + bearing a great dish athwart which lay a cold salmon that the baker had + cooked for him that morning. Close behind came Pestler with a tray filled + with boxes of candy, and next Sanderson with a flattish basket piled high + with carnations, each one tied as a boutonniere; and Porterfield with a + bunch of bananas; and so on and so on—each arrival being received + with fresh roars and shouts of welcoming approval. Last of all came Kitty, + her face one great, pervading, all-embracing laugh, her own big coffee-pot + filled to the brim and smoking hot on a waiter, her boy Bobby following, + loaded down with cups and saucers. + </p> + <p> + Supper over—and it was a mighty feast, with everybody waiting on + everybody else, Kitty busiest of all, filling each cup herself—Digwell + the undertaker, who had really been the life of the party, remarked in a + voice loud enough to be heard half-way across the room that it was a pity + there was no piano, as a party could not be a real party without a dance. + At this Kling, who was having a mug with Codman, rose from his seat, + stepped to the top of the stairs and, looking over the crowd, called for + four strong men, “right avay, k'vick!” Codman, Pestler, Mike, and Digwell + responded, and before anybody knew where they had gone, or what it was all + about, up came an old-fashioned spinet, which Kling remembered had been + hidden behind a Martha Washington bedstead on the floor below. + </p> + <p> + “All together, men!” shouted Codman, and it was picked up bodily, whirled + into position, dusted off in a jiffy, and ready for use. + </p> + <p> + At this Pestler sprang to his feet, shouted he was coming back in a + minute, rushed to the stairway, went down three steps at a time, bolted + through the front door, across the street, up into his bedroom, and back + again, all in one breath, waving his violin triumphantly over his head as + he entered. + </p> + <p> + And then it was that the real fun began. And then it was that virtue had + its own reward, for not a living soul in the room could play a note on the + spinet except the tallest and spookiest and, to all appearances, the + stupidest of the two young men, whom the Heffern girl had brought and who + turned out to have once been the star pianist in some dance-hall on the + Bowery. And the scribe remarks, parenthetically and in all seriousness, + that the way that lank, pin-headed young man revived the soul of that old, + worn-out harpischord, digging into its ribs, kicking at its knees with + both feet, hand-massaging every one of the keys up, down, and crossways, + until the ancient fossil fairly rattled itself loose with the joy of being + alive once more, was altogether the most astounding miracle he has ever + had to record. And Pestler with his violin was not far behind. + </p> + <p> + Everything had now broken loose. + </p> + <p> + At the first note, up jumped Kitty, caught John around the neck, and went + whirling around the room. At the second note, up jumped Codman, made a + dive for Polly, missed her in the mix-up and, grabbing Mrs. Digwell + instead, went sailing down the room as if he had done nothing else all his + life. At the third note, away went Sanderson and Bundleton, Heffern, + everybody but the two castaways and Tim Kelsey, who beat juba on their + knees, old Sam Dogger playing a tattoo all by himself with two + knife-handles and a plate. Some danced with their own wives; some with + anybody's wife or daughter or child—a grand hullabaloo, down the + middle, across, back, and up again, until everybody was exhausted and fell + in a heap into Felix's Spanish chairs, or on his Venetian wedding-chests, + or wherever else they could find resting-places in which to catch their + breaths. + </p> + <p> + And now comes the crowning touch of all—the last of the evening's + surprises, and one remembered the longest because of its simplicity and + its beauty! + </p> + <p> + When everybody was resting, out stepped Felix, the light of the overhead + candles falling on his pale, thoughtful face, white shirt-front, and + faultless suit of black which fitted his well-knit, handsome frame like a + glove, and with him the Grande Duchesse Masie de Kling, the child bowing + and smiling as she passed, the wide leghorn hat shading her face from the + light of the lanterns above, her long train caught, woman-fashion, over + her arm. Then, with a low word to the pin-headed young man, followed by a + downward wave of his palm to denote the time, and the child's fingers firm + in his own, Felix led her through an old-fashioned, stately minuet, + telling her in an undertone just what steps to take. + </p> + <p> + It was Sunday morning before the merry party broke up and streamed out + through Kling's lower shop, and so on into the street. Everybody had had + the time of their lives. Such remarks as “Would ye have believed it of + Otto?” or, “Wasn't Masie the sweetest thing ye ever saw?” or, “Just think + of Mr. O'Day fixing up that old junk room the way he did—ye can't + beat him nowheres!” or, “Oh, I tell ye, Otto struck it rich when he took + him on!”, were heard on all sides. + </p> + <p> + So loud were the laughter and chatter, the good nights and good-bys, that + big Tom McGinniss moved over from the opposite curb. + </p> + <p> + “Halloo, John!” cried the policeman. “I thought I couldn't be mistaken. + And Kitty, that you with your coffee-pot? I just come up from Lexington + Avenue and heard the row, wondering what was up. Is it up-stairs ye were? + WHAT! Dutchy givin' a ball? Oh, ye can't mean it! No, thank ye, Kitty, it + will be too late for ye all—I'll drop in to-morrow night. Well, take + care of yourselves,” and he disappeared in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Felix watched the throng disperse, bade Kitty and John good night, and, + turning sharply, directed his steps toward Madison Square. Here he sank + upon a bench, away from the glare of an overhead lamp. For some minutes he + sat without moving, his mind wholly absorbed with the events of the + preceding hours. The roar and crush of the room came back to him. He + caught again the light in Masie's eyes as she followed his lead in the + dance and the mob of happy faces crowding to her side, and then with a + shudder he confronted the gaunt sorrow that had hourly dogged his steps. + An overpowering sense of depression now took possession of him. Pushing + back his hat as if to give himself more air, he was about to resume his + walk when he became conscious that something had stirred at the far end of + the seat. + </p> + <p> + Straightening his broad shoulders, his quick, alert manner returning, he + moved nearer, his eyes searching the gloom. A newsboy, a little chap of + seven or eight, his papers under him, lay fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + For an instant he watched the rise and fall of the boy's breath, adjusted + the short, patched coat about the little fellow's knees, and then slid + back to his end of the bench. + </p> + <p> + “Same old grind,” he said to himself, “no home—no money—cold—maybe + hungry. Never too young to suffer—never too old to eat your heart + out. What a damnable world it is!” + </p> + <p> + Rising to his feet, he felt in his pocket for a coin, widened the pocket + of the waif's jacket, and slipped it in. The boy stirred, tightened his + grasp on his papers, and lay still. + </p> + <p> + Felix looked down at him for a moment, turned, and with lightened steps + continued his walk. + </p> + <p> + “Well, thank God,” he said as he neared “The Avenue,” “Masie was happy one + night in her life.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IX + </h2> + <p> + That the memories of Masie's birthday party should have been revived again + and again, and that the several incidents should have been discussed for + days thereafter—every eye growing the brighter in the telling—was + to have been expected. Kitty could talk of nothing else. The beauty of the + room; the charm of Masie's costume; Kling's generosity; and last, O'Day's + bearing and appearance as he led the child through the stately dance, + looking, as Kitty expressed it, “that fine and handsome you would have + thought he was a lord mayor,” were now her daily topics of conversation. + </p> + <p> + Masie was equally enthusiastic, rushing down-stairs the next morning to + throw her arms around his neck with an “Oh, Uncle Felix, I never, NEVER, + NEVER was so happy in all my life!” + </p> + <p> + Kling was still more jubilant. The success of Masie's banquet room had + established him at once among bric-a-brac dealers as a competitor quite + out of the ordinary. His old customers came in flocks, walking about with + gasps of astonishment. Before the week was out, a masonic lodge had bought + the throne, a seaside resort the big Chinese lantern, and two of the four + Spanish chairs had found a home in a millionaire's library. + </p> + <p> + Moreover—and this was all the more remarkable in view of his early + training—a certain deference became apparent in the Dutchman's + manner not only toward Felix but toward his customers. He no longer + received them in his shirt-sleeves. He bought some new clothes and sported + a collar, necktie, and hat, duplicating those worn by Felix as near as his + memory served. + </p> + <p> + Still more remarkable were the changes wrought among the neighbors in + their attitude toward O'Day. Until then they had, in their independent + fashion, treated him like any of the other men who came in and out their + several stores, pleased with his interest in the business, but quickly + forgetting him as they became reabsorbed in the affairs of the day. Now, + as they told him what a good time they had had on the birthday, they + raised their hats. Porterfield went so far as to tell the radiant Kitty + that her boarder was a “Jim Dandy,” and that if she should lay her hands + on another to “trot him out.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty of course had expected these triumphs, but that it was she who had + made them possible, and that but for her own individual efforts Felix + might still be wandering around the streets in search of bed and board, + apparently never crossed her mind. He would have been just as splendid, + she said to herself, and just as much of a man no matter who had helped + and no matter where his feet had landed. + </p> + <p> + If O'Day were aware of the changes of public opinion going on around him, + there was nothing in either his manner or in his speech to show it. When + they complimented him on the way in which he had utilized Otto's old + stock, producing so wonderful an interior, he would remark quietly that it + was nothing to his credit. He had always loved such things; that it came + natural to some people to put things to rights, and that any one could + have done as much. It was only when some one alluded to Masie that his + face would light up. “Yes, charming, was she not? Such a wonderful little + lady, and so good!” + </p> + <p> + That which did please him—please him immensely—was the outcome + of a visit made some days after the party by old Nat Ganger. + </p> + <p> + “Regular Aladdin lamp,” Nat shouted, slamming Kling's door behind him. + “One rub, bang goes the rubbish, and up comes an Oriental palace. Another + rub and little devils swarm over the walls and ceilings and begin hanging + up stuffs and lamps. Another rub, and before you can wink your eye, out + steps a little princess, a million times prettier than any Cinderella that + ever lived. Wonderful! WONDERFUL! + </p> + <p> + “Where is the darling child anyway. Can't I see her? I got away from Sam, + telling him I was going to look up another frame for one of my pictures. + Here it is. All a lie, every bit of it. It's Sam's picture. Not mine. I + wrapped it up so he wouldn't know, but I came to see that darling child + all the same, for I've got a surprise for her. But first I want you to see + this picture. Here, wait until I untie this string. It's one of Sam's + Hudson Rivery things. Palisades and a steamboat in the foreground, and an + afternoon sky. Easy dodge, don't you see? Yellow sky and purple hill, and + short streak for the steamboat and its wake, and a smear of white steam + straggling behind. Sam does 'em as well as anybody. Sometimes he puts in a + pile or two in the foreground for a broken dock and a rowboat with a lone + fisherman squatting on the hind seat. Then he asks five dollars more. + Always get more you know for figures in a landscape.” + </p> + <p> + He had unwrapped the canvas by this time, and was holding it to the light + of the window that Felix might see it better. + </p> + <p> + Felix studied it carefully, even to the cramped signature in the corner, + “Samuel Dogger, A. N. A.”; and with an appreciative smile said: “Very + good, I should say. Yes, very good.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! It's really very bad, and you know it. So do I. But you're too much + of a gentleman to say so. Can't be worse, really, but 'puttying up' is + down by the heels, and there hasn't been an old master from Flushing, Long + Island, or Weehawken, New Jersey, lugged up our stairs for a month;—two + months, really. We had one last week from a dealer down-town which turned + out to be genuine after Sam had looked it over. And, of course, Sam + wouldn't touch it and sent for the auctioneer and told him so. And the + beggar made Sam hunt for the signature and Sam found it at the top of the + canvas instead of at the bottom. One of the early Dutchmen Sam said it + was. Some kind of a Beck or a Koven. And would you believe it, the very + next day the fellow got a whacking price for it from a collector up in one + of the side streets near the Park. So Sam has gone back to the early + American school. This means that he's getting down to his last five-dollar + bill, and I want to tell you that I'm not far from it myself. I'd have + been dead broke if I hadn't sold two Fatimas. One in pink pants and the + other a flying angel in summer clothes to fit an alcove in an up-town + barroom over the cigar-stand. + </p> + <p> + “But my money isn't Sam's money,” he went on without pausing, “and Sam + won't touch a penny of it. Never does unless I fool him on the sly. And + I've come up here to fool him now, and fool him bad. I want you to hold on + to this bust—wait until I get it out of my pocket.” Here he pulled + out a small bronze, a head of Augustus, beautifully wrought. + </p> + <p> + “If you buy the picture, I'll throw in the ancient Roman,” and he laid it + on the counter. + </p> + <p> + “And I want you to write Sam a note, asking him if he can't look around + for one of his masterpieces, something say ten by fourteen; wanted for a + customer who only buys good things. That any little landscape with water + in it will do. Remember, don't leave out the water. Then Sam will come + thumping down-stairs with the note, and I'll be awfully astonished and + we'll talk it over, and I'll pull this out from under a pile of stuff + where I'll hide it as soon as I get home. Then I'll say: 'Well, I'm going + up-town and have Mr. O'Day look at it, and maybe it will suit him, and + that if it does, I'll make him pay fifty dollars for it.' How do you think + that will work?” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who had been looking into the old fellow's eyes, reading his mind + in their depths, seeing clear down into the heart beneath, now picked up + the bronze and began passing his hand over it. + </p> + <p> + “Very lovely,” he said at last, “and a marvellous paten. Where did you get + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Spoken like a gentleman and a man of honor, and this time you tell the + truth. It's just what you say—marvellous. I swapped a twenty by + thirty for it. Will you take it?” + </p> + <p> + Felix shook his head, a smile playing about his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I would if I wanted to be unfair. Here, take your bronze and leave the + picture. I will find a frame for it, and have one of the men give it a + coat of varnish.” + </p> + <p> + “And you'll write the note?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that necessary?” + </p> + <p> + “Of COURSE, it's necessary. You don't know Sam. He's as cunning as a + weasel and can get away before you know it. Got to fool him. I always do. + Told him more lies in one minute this morning than a horse can trot. Will + you write the note?” + </p> + <p> + Felix laughed. “Yes, just as soon as you go.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won't hold on to the bronze?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't hold on to the bronze.” + </p> + <p> + “And you can get fifty dollars for this unexampled work of art? That, of + course, is the ASKING price. Ten would do a whole lot of good.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say positively, but I will try.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. And now where's that darling child?” + </p> + <p> + A laugh rang out from the top of the stairs, the laugh of a child + overjoyed at meeting some one she loves, followed by “do you mean me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I mean you, Toddlekins. Come down here and let me give you a + big hug. And I've got a message for you from that dried-up old fellow with + the shaggy head. He sent you his love—every bit of it, he said. And + he's found some more gewgaws he's going to bring up some day. Told me + that, too.” + </p> + <p> + Masie had reached the floor and was running toward him with her hands + extended, Fudge springing in front. + </p> + <p> + The old painter caught her up in his arms, lifting her off her little + feet, and as quickly setting her down, his eyes snapping, his whole face + aglow. The joy bottled up in the child seemed to have swept through him + like an electric current. + </p> + <p> + “And wasn't it a beautiful party?” she burst out when she found her + breath. “And wasn't Uncle Felix good to make it all for me?” She had moved + to O'Day's side and had slipped her hand in his. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, it was,” roared Ganger. “Why, old Sam Dogger was so + excited when he went to bed, he didn't sleep a wink all night. He's + thought of nothing else but parties ever since. He's getting up one for + you. Told me so this morning.” + </p> + <p> + The child's eyes dilated. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a party?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a dandy party, but it's not going to be at night. It's going to be in + the daytime. All out in the blessed sunshine and under the trees. And + everybody is going to be invited—everybody who belongs.” + </p> + <p> + The child's brow clouded. “Everybody who belongs? Why, can't Uncle Felix + come?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, he can come. He 'belongs.'” + </p> + <p> + “And—Fudge?” + </p> + <p> + “What, that little devil of a dog? Yes, he can come, if he promises to + behave himself,” and he shook his head at the culprit. “And all the + chippies can come. Lots of 'em, and perhaps a couple of robins, if they + haven't gone away south. And there's a big Newfoundland dog, or was before + he was stolen, that could have swallowed this gentleman down at one gulp, + but he won't now. HE 'belonged' and always has. And, of course, you + 'belong' and so does Sam and so do I. We go out every other week and sit + under these very same trees. Sam paints the branches wiggling down in the + water, and I do leaky boats. When I get the picture home, I put Jane + Hoggson fishin' in the stern.” + </p> + <p> + Masie rolled her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And you don't take her with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cause she don't 'belong.' Great difference whether you belong or not. + Jane Hoggson couldn't 'belong' if she was to be born all over again.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day now joined in. He had been watching Masie, noting the lights and + shadows which swept over her face as the old painter chattered away. He + always welcomed any plan for giving her pleasure, and was blessing Ganger + in his heart for providing the diversion. + </p> + <p> + “And where is all this to take place, Mr. Ganger?” Felix asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “Up on the Bronx. A place you know nothing of and wouldn't believe a word + about if I should tell you—not 'til you see it yourself. It's as + full of birds and butterflies as England along the Thames, or one of those + ducky little streams out of Paris. And it only costs five cents to get + there and five cents to get back. And you won't be more than a few hours + away from your shop. Fine, I tell you, you'll never forget it.” + </p> + <p> + Again Felix broke in. + </p> + <p> + “I have not a doubt of it, but when is all this to take place?” + </p> + <p> + Ganger gave a little start and grew suddenly grave. + </p> + <p> + “Well, as to that, you see the day is not yet fixed, not precisely. In a + week maybe, or it may be two weeks. This is Sam's party, you know, and he + hasn't completed all his arrangements—that is, he hadn't completed + them when I left him this morning. And, of course, a lot has to be done to + make everything ready”—here he nodded at Masie—“for little + princesses and great ladies in plumes and satins. But it is certainly + coming off. Old Sam told me so, and he means every word of it. And he was + to let you know when. That's it, he was to LET YOU KNOW. That's another + thing he told me to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The child's name was now called from the top of the stairs, and the + Gossburger's head craned itself over the hand-rail. Fudge opened with a + sharp bark, and Masie, with an air kiss to Ganger, raced up the steps, the + dog at her heels, shouting as she ran: “Tell Mr. Dogger I send him a kiss, + and I thank him ever so much, and won't he please come and see me very + soon.” + </p> + <p> + When she had disappeared, the old fellow leaned forward, gazed knowingly + at Felix, and in soft-pedal tones said: + </p> + <p> + “You see, Sam couldn't say EXACTLY when the party was to take place + because—well, because he hasn't heard a word about it, and won't + until I get back. It is my party, not Sam's, and I've got to break it to + him gently. And I've got to fool him about the party, make him think it's + his party, or he'll think I'm holding it over him because I've got a + little more money than he has, just as I intend to fool him about the + picture. I couldn't say, when you asked me, when the day was to be fixed, + because I've told lies enough to that dear child. But I know just what Sam + will do when I tell him about his party; he'll stand on his head he'll be + so happy. You see if, when I unwrapped the picture, you had talked ten + dollars right out, why then I was going to make it next Saturday; that is, + to-morrow. But you hemmed and hawed so, I had to make it 'some day soon.' + Of course, I never expected the fifty; ten will be enough for car-fare all + around and some beer and sandwiches, that's all we ever have. That's why I + chucked in Augustus to make sure. Well, see what you can do, and don't + forget to write the note and I'll do the rest of the lying.” And chuckling + to himself he hurried away. + </p> + <p> + As the door swung wide, a slim man bustled past him, and, spying Felix, + moved briskly to where he stood. He had just ten minutes to spare, he + announced, and was looking for a present for his wife; “something in the + way of fans, old ones, and not over five dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who had raised the lid of the case and was stowing Dogger's + masterpiece inside to keep it out of harm's way, his mind wholly occupied + with the two old painters and their tenderness toward each other, roused + himself to answer: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, half a dozen. Not at your price, though, not old ones. Here are two + fairly good specimens,” and he handed them out and laid them on the glass + before him. + </p> + <p> + The man leaned forward and peered into the case. + </p> + <p> + “That's a picture of the Palisades, isn't it?” He had ignored the fans. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I knew it first time I put my eyes on it. I'm in the real-estate + business. I've got a lot of cottage sites along that top edge. Is it for + sale?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be when it's cleaned and varnished and I have it framed.” + </p> + <p> + “Belong to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it belongs to a man who has left it for sale. He went out as you came + in.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he want for it?” + </p> + <p> + “He would be satisfied with ten dollars, even less, because he needs the + money. I want fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to make the rest?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it all goes to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you stick it on for?” + </p> + <p> + “Because if it isn't worth that, it isn't worth anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Take it out and let me have a look at it. Yes, just the spot. That + whitish streak and that little puff of steam is where they're breaking + stone. Make a good advertisement, wouldn't it, hanging up in your office? + You can show the owners just where the land lies, and you can show a + customer just what he's going to own.” + </p> + <p> + A brisk bargaining then followed, he determined to buy, and Felix to + maintain his price. Before the ten minutes were out, the bustling man had + forgotten all about the fan he was in search of for his wife and, having + assured himself that it was all oil-paint, every square inch of it, had + propped it up against an ancient clock, standing back to see the effect, + had haggled on five, then ten, then twenty-five, and had finally + surrendered by laying five ten-dollar bills on the glass case. After which + he tucked the picture under his arm, and without a word of any kind + disappeared through the street-door. + </p> + <p> + And that is why the note which Felix had promised to write Dogger was sent + by messenger instead of by mail within five minutes after the picture and + the buyer had disappeared. And that is why, too, all the preliminary + subterfuges were omitted, and the substitute contained the announcement + which follows: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mr. Dogger: + </p> + <p> + “I have just sold your Palisade picture for fifty dollars. The amount is + at your service whenever you call. + </p> + <p> + “Yours truly, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Felix O'Day.” + </pre> + <p> + That, too, is why Dogger was so overjoyed that he beat the messenger back + to Kling's, skipping over the flag-stones most of the way till he reached + the Dutchman's door, where, as befitted a painter whose genius had at last + been recognized, he slowed down, entering the store with a steady gait, a + little restrained in his manner, saying, as he tried to cram down his joy, + that it was a mere sketch, you know, something that he had knocked off + out-of-doors; that Nat had liked it and had, so he said, taken it up to + have it framed. That, of course, he could not afford ever to repeat the + sale price—not for a ten by fourteen of that quality, but that most + of his rich patrons were still out of town, and so it came in very well. + </p> + <p> + And, oh, yes, he had almost forgotten! He and Nat were going up to + Laguerre's, on the Bronx, to an old French cafe, where they often lunched + and painted; that Nat had suggested just as he left the studio that it + would be a good thing if Felix and that dear child Masie would go with + them, and that they would go Saturday, which was to-morrow, if that would + suit O'Day and Masie. And if that wouldn't suit, why then they'd go the + very first day that did, say Sunday or Monday, the sooner the better. + </p> + <p> + To all of which Felix, reading every thought that lurked behind the moist + eyes of the tender-hearted old fraud, had replied that, if he had the + choosing, to-morrow, of all the days in the year, would be the very day he + would select, and that he and Masie would be ready any hour that he and + Mr. Ganger would be good enough to call for them. + </p> + <p> + At which the old painter took himself off in high glee. + </p> + <p> + And an altogether delightful and a very happy party it was. Sam, as + host-in-chief, sparing no expense, his first act being to pre-empt a + summer-house covered with vines, already tinged by the touches of autumn's + fingers; and his second to insist in a loud voice on chairs and + table-cloths, instead of a sandwich spread out on a bench, as had been + their custom, followed by a demand for olives and a small bottle of red + wine, to say nothing of a double brace of chops, and all with the air of a + multimillionaire ordering a cold bottle and a hot bird at Delmonico's. And + Nat, grown ten years younger—a mere boy in fact—showed Masie + how to throw little leaden weights down the throat of a small cast-iron + frog, and Felix mixed the salad and served it, Masie changing the dishes + and running back to the house for fresh ones, while Fudge, in frenzied + glee, scurried over the soft earth as if he had suddenly been seized with + St. Vitus's dance. And then, when there was not a crumb of anything left + even for the chippies, they all stretched themselves flat on the grass in + the warm Indian summer weather, the two old fellows entertaining the child + with all the stories they could think of, Felix looking on, replenishing + his pipe from time to time, his own spirit soothed and comforted by the + happiness around him. + </p> + <p> + Even Kitty noticed the new light in his eyes when they all came back, for + Felix brought the two old painters into her sitting-room so that they + might renew an acquaintance they had made on the night of the ball and + “become better known to a woman of distinction,” as he laughingly put it, + which so delighted the dear soul that that night she said to her husband: + </p> + <p> + “He'll stop trampin' pretty soon, I think, John. Somethin's soaked into + him in the last day or two. It's them old painters, I think, that's + helpin' him. He come in a while ago with that child clingin' to him and + them two mossbacks followin' behin', and his face was all ironed out, and + I could see a song trembling on his lips all ready to burst out. Pray God + it'll last!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter X + </h2> + <p> + While it was true that Felix, since Masie's party, had gained the complete + good-will of his neighbors, there were, strange as it may seem, certain + individuals who, while they acknowledged the charm of his personality, + resented his quiet reserve. What nettled them most was his not having told + them at once who he was and why he had come to Kling's, and why he had + stayed on wrapped in mystery. They considered themselves, so to speak, as + defrauded of something which was their right and said so in plain terms. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope it won't be a pair of handcuffs they'll surprise him with + some day”; or, “When that pal of his turns up, then you'll see fun,” being + some of the suggestions frequently made over counters, to be answered by + his loyal adherents with a “Well, I don't care what ye say. I ain't never + come across no man any better than Felix O'Day since I lived here, and + that's no lie.” + </p> + <p> + There were others, too, who refused to believe any good of the + self-contained, reticent stranger. The nephew of somebody's + brother-in-law, who lived in Lexington Avenue, was one. He had been + promised, by the cousin of somebody else, the position of clerk with Otto + Kling, and although Otto had never heard of it, he WOULD have heard of it + and the nephew been duly installed but for “a galoot who SAID his name was + O'Day.” + </p> + <p> + And another thing. What was a fellow, who would work under a Dutchman like + Kling, for only enough to pay his board, doing with a dress suit, anyhow? + The fact was that O'Day was either here “on the quiet” to escape his + creditors, while his friends were trying to patch things up for his + return, or he was an English valet who had stolen his master's clothes. + </p> + <p> + A new rumor now filled the air. O'Day, was a spy sent by some foreign + government to look after important interests, like that Russian who had + been employed in a publishing house, where he wrote articles for an + encyclopaedia, only to be recognized later, whereupon he had disappeared + and was never seen again. Tim Kelsey had known him. In fact, he had + visited often Tim's bookstore at night, just as O'Day was visiting it, and + where a lot of other queer-looking people could be found if anybody would + “take the trouble to knock at Kelsey's door and peer in through the + tobacco smoke some night.” + </p> + <p> + All this gossip rolled off Kitty's mind as rain from a tin roof. Only once + did she rise up in anger with a “Get out of my place! I'll not have ye + soiling the air with yer dirty talk. Get out, I say! Ye don't know a + gentleman when ye see him, and ye never will.” + </p> + <p> + It was when these rumors as to her lodger's identity were thickest and + when Kitty's heart had begun to fear that his despondency was returning, + his nightly prowls having been resumed, that a hansom cab stopped in front + of her door. + </p> + <p> + It was one of her busy days, the sidewalk being blocked up with twenty or + more trunks, parcels, cribs, and baby-carriages on their way, by the aid + of Mike, the big white horse, and John, to the Ferry for shipment to + Lakewood. Kitty was in charge of the quarter-deck, her head bare, her + sleeves rolled above her elbows, showing her plump, ruddy arms, her cheeks + and eyes aglow with the crisp air of the morning. October had set in, and + one of those lung-filling, bracing days—the sky swept by dancing + clouds, dragging their skirts in their flight—was making glad the + great city. + </p> + <p> + Kitty loved its snap and tang. She loved, too, the excitement aroused by + her duties, and was never so happy as when there were but so many minutes + to catch a train—a fact she never ceased to impress upon everybody + about her, she knowing all the time that she would so manage the loading + as to have five minutes to spare. + </p> + <p> + “In with those hand-bags, Mike—in the front, where that Saratoga + trunk won't smash 'em. Now that crib—no—not loose! Get that + strap around it; do ye want to have to pick it up before ye get half-way + to the tunnel? Hurry up, John, dear! Hold on—give me the other + handle of that—look at it now, big as a chicken-coop! Them Fifth + Avenue ladies will be livin' in these things if they keep on.” + </p> + <p> + These orders and remarks, fired in rapid succession, were interrupted to + her great annoyance by the driver of the hansom cab, who, impatient at the + delay, had touched his horse lightly with the whip, bringing the big + wheels to a stop in front of the huge trunk which Kitty was + anathematizing. + </p> + <p> + “Go on wid ye! Drive on, I tell ye!” she cried, opening fire on the + driver. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman wants to—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't care what the gentleman wants. This stuff's got to go + aboard that wagon.” + </p> + <p> + Here the passenger's head was thrust forward. + </p> + <p> + “Can you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I can, and glad to, no matter what it is—but not + this minute. Don't ye see what I'm up against?” + </p> + <p> + The hansom was backed its full length, the passenger watching Kitty's + movements with evident amusement. + </p> + <p> + Two strong hands, one Kitty's and the other John's—mostly John's—lifted + the chicken-coop of a trunk bodily, rested it for an instant on the + forward wheel, and with another “all together” jerk sent it rolling into + the wagon. This completed the loading. + </p> + <p> + The passenger craned his head again. + </p> + <p> + “I am staying in Gramercy Park, and want—” + </p> + <p> + Kitty, who had been stretching her neck to its full length to catch his + words, straightened up. “Ye'll have to get out. I'm no long-distance + telephone, and the racket of them horse-cars is enough to set a body + crazy.” + </p> + <p> + The passenger laughed, stretched out a leg, gathered the other beside it, + and stepped to the sidewalk. “You seem to understand your business, my + good woman,” he began, unbuttoning his overcoat to get at the inside + pocket of his cutaway. + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't I? I been at it these twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + She had taken him in now, from his polished silk hat, gray hair, and red + cheeks down to his check trousers, white spats, and well-brushed shoes. + Her own face was by this time wreathed in smiles; she saw the man was a + gentleman who had intended only to be courteous. “Is that what ye came to + tell me?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I would have done so if I had ever watched you work. Oh, here it + is,” he continued, drawing out his pocketbook. “I want you to—” he + stopped and looked at her from over the rims of his gold spectacles—“but + I may not have hold of the right person. May I ask if you belong here?” + </p> + <p> + Her head went up with a toss, her eyes dancing. “Of course ye can ask + anything ye please, but I'll tell ye right off I don't belong here. Every + blessed thing here belongs to me and my man John.” + </p> + <p> + The passenger broke into a laugh. He had evidently found a rara avis, and + was enjoying the discovery to the full. American types always interested + him; this sample of Irish-New York was a revelation. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” smiled Kitty, “I'm waitin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, take this order to No. 3 Gramercy Park, and they will give you my + two boxes, a shirt case, a roll of steamer-rugs, and some golf-sticks in a + leather pouch, five pieces in all. Get them down to the Cunard dock by + eleven, and my servant will be there to take charge of them. The steamer + sails at twelve. Is that clear?” + </p> + <p> + She reached for the paper and began checking off the number of the + apartment, number of pieces, dock, and hour. This was all that interested + her. + </p> + <p> + “It is—clear as mud—and they'll be on time. And now, who's to + pay?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, and—” He stopped suddenly, staring in blank amazement at + Felix, who had just emerged from the side door and was stopping for a word + with one of John's drivers. “My God!” he muttered in a low voice, as if + talking to himself. “I can't be mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + Felix nodded a good morning to Kitty and, with an alert, quick stride + crossed the sidewalk diagonally, and bent his steps toward Kling's. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman followed him with his gaze, his open pocketbook still in + his hands. “Is that gentleman a customer of yours?” Had he seen a dead man + suddenly come to life he could not have been more astounded. + </p> + <p> + “He is, and pays his rent like one.” + </p> + <p> + “Rent? For what?” The customer seemed completely at sea. + </p> + <p> + “For my up-stairs room. He's my lodger and I never had a better.” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman caught his breath. “Do you know who he is?” he asked + cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do! Do you happen to know him?” John had moved up now and + stood listening. + </p> + <p> + “Not personally, but, unless I am very much mistaken, that is Sir Felix + O'Day.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye ain't mistaken, you're dead right—all but the 'Sir.' That's + somethin' new to me. It's MR. Felix O'Day around here, and there ain't a + finer nor a better. What do ye know about him?” Her voice had softened and + a slight shade of anxiety had crept into it. John craned his head to hear + the better. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to his discredit. He has had a lot of trouble—terrible + trouble—more than anybody I know. I heard he had gone to Australia. + I see now that he came to New York. Well, upon my soul, Sir Felix living + over an express office!” + </p> + <p> + He handed her a bill, waited until John had fished up the change from the + trousers pocket, repeated, in an absent-minded way: “Sir Felix living + here! Good God! What next?” and, beckoning to the driver, stepped inside + the hansom and drove off. + </p> + <p> + Kitty looked at her husband, her color coming and going. “What did I tell + ye, John, dear? And ye wouldn't believe a word of it.” + </p> + <p> + John returned Kitty's look. He, too, was trying to grasp the full meaning + of the announcement. “Are ye going to tell him ye know, Kitty?” Neither of + them had the slightest doubt of its truth. + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't,” she flashed back. “Not a word—nor nobody else. When + Mr. Felix O'Day gits ready to tell us, he will.” + </p> + <p> + “Will ye tell Father Cruse?” he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that I will. I'll have to think it over. And now, John, + remember!—not a word of this to any livin' soul. Do ye promise?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” He hesitated, another question struggling to his lips, and then + added: “What's up wid him, do ye think, Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, John, dear. I wish I did, but whatever it is, its breakin' + his heart.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XI + </h2> + <p> + The discovery of her lodger's title made but little difference to Kitty, + nor did it raise him a whit in her estimation. At best, it only confirmed + her first impression of his being a gentleman—every inch of him. She + may have studied the more closely her lodger's habits, noting his constant + care of his person, the way in which he used his knife and fork, the + softness and cleanliness of his hands—all object-lessons to her, for + she broke out on her husband the day after her talk with the Englishman in + the hansom cab with: + </p> + <p> + “I want to tell ye that ye'll have to stop spatterin' yer soup around + after this, John, dear. I'm going to have a clean table-cloth on every + day, and a clean napkin for him, and as I'm doin' the washing myself ye've + got to help an' not muss things. First thing ye know he'll sour on what we + are giving him and be goin' off worse than ever, trampin' the streets till + all hours of the night.” At which John had stretched his big frame and + with a prolonged yawn, his arms over his head, had remarked: “All right, + Kitty, you're boss. Sir or no sir, he's got no frills about him—just + plain man like the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + Neither would his title, had they known it, have made the slightest + difference to any one of the habitues who gathered in Tim Kelsey's + book-shop. + </p> + <p> + Who Felix was, or what he had done, or what he was about to do, were + questions never considered, either by Kelsey or by his friends. That he + was part of the driftwood left stranded and unrecognized on the + intellectual shore was enough. All that any of them asked for was brains, + and Felix, even before the first evening had ended, had uncovered a stock + so varied, and of such unusual proportions, and of so brilliant a + character that he was always accorded the right of way whenever he took + charge of the talk. + </p> + <p> + And a queer lot they were who listened, and a queer lot they had to be, to + enjoy Kelsey's confidence. “Men are like books,” he would often say to + Felix. “It is their insides I care for, no matter how badly they are + bound. The half-calf or all-morocco sort never appeal to me. Shelf fellows + seldom handled, I call them, and a man who is not handled and rubbed up + against, with a corner worn off here and there, is like a book kept under + glass. Nobody cares anything about it except as an ornament, and I have no + room for ornaments.” + </p> + <p> + That is why the door was kept shut at night, when some half-calf rapped + and Tim would get a look at his binding through the shutter and tiptoe + back, closing the door of the inner room behind him. + </p> + <p> + Among Kelsey's collection was old Silas Murford, the custom-house clerk—a + fat, stupid-looking old fellow whose chin rested on his shirt-front and + whose middle rested on his knees, the whole of him, when seated, filling + Tim's biggest chair. Tim prized this volume most, for when Silas began to + talk, the sheepish look would fade out of his placid face, his little pig + eyes would vanish, and the listener would discover to his astonishment + that not only was this lethargic lump of flesh a delightful + conversationalist but that he had spent every hour he could spare from his + custom-house in a study of the American system of immigration—and + had at his tongue's end a mass of statistics about which few men knew + anything. + </p> + <p> + Crackburn, an authority on the earlier printers, then in charge of the + prints in the Astor Library, and who, for diversion, ground lenses on the + sly, was another prize document. And so was Lockwood, the lapidary, famous + as a designer of medals and seals; and many more such oddities. “Fine old + copies,” Kelsey would say of them, “hand-printed, all of them; one or two, + like old Silas, extremely rare.” + </p> + <p> + That he considered Felix entitled to a place in his private collection had + been decided at their first meeting. “Met a mask with a man behind it,” he + had announced to his intimates that same night. “Got a fine nose for + what's worth having. Located that chant book as soon as he laid his hands + on it. I didn't get any farther than the skin of his face and you won't, + either. He has promised to come over, and when you have rubbed up against + him for half an hour, as I did this morning, you will think as I do.” + </p> + <p> + Since that time, Felix had spent many comforting hours in Kelsey's little + back room. Sometimes he would drop in about nine and remain until half + past ten; at other times, it would be nearer midnight before he would turn + the knob. + </p> + <p> + As for the shop itself, nothing up and down “The Avenue” was quite as odd, + quite as ramshackly, or quite as picturesque. What the public saw, on + either side of the down-two-steps entrance, was a bench with slanting + shelves, holding a double row of books and two patched glass windows, + protecting disordered heaps of prints, stained engravings, and old + etchings, the whole embedded in dust. + </p> + <p> + What the owner's intimates saw, once they got inside and continued to the + end of the building, was a low-ceiled room warmed by an old-fashioned + Franklin stove and lighted by a drop covered by a green shade. All about + were easy chairs, a table or two, a sideboard, some long shelves loaded + down with books, and an iron safe which held some precious manuscripts and + one or two early editions. + </p> + <p> + When the room was shut the shop was open, and when the shop was shut, the + shutters fastened, and the two benches with their books lifted bodily and + brought inside, the little back room, smoke-dried as an old ham, and as + savory and inviting, once you got its flavor, was ready for his guests. + </p> + <p> + On one of these rare nights when the room was full, it happened that the + same fifteenth-century chant book, which had brought Tim and Felix + together, was lying on the table. The discussion which followed easily + drifted into the influence of the Roman Catholic church on the art of the + period; Felix maintaining that but for the impetus it gave, neither the + art of illumination nor any of the other arts would at the time have + reached the heights they attained. + </p> + <p> + “This missal is but an example of it,” he continued, drawing the battered, + yellow-stained book toward him. “Whatever these old monks, with their + religious fervor, touched they enriched and glorified, whether it were an + initial letter, as you see here, or an altar-piece; and more than that, + many of them painted wonderfully well.” + </p> + <p> + “And a narrow-minded, bigoted lot they were,” broke in Crackburn. “If + they'd had their way there would not have been a printing-press in + existence. If you are going to canonize anybody, begin with Aldus + Minutius.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a difference in patrons,” chimed in Lockwood, “the difference + between a pope and a doge.” + </p> + <p> + “And it's the same to-day,” echoed Kelsey, taking the book from O'Day's + hand, to keep the leaves from buckling. “Only it's neither pope nor doge, + but the money king who's the patron. We should all starve to death but for + him. I've been waiting for Mr. O'Day to hunt one down and make him buy + this,” he added, closing the book carefully. “Nobody else around here + appreciates its rarity or would give a five-dollar bill for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Go slow,” puffed old Silas, hunched up in his chair. “Money kings are + good in their way, and so perhaps were popes and doges, but give me a + plain priest every time. You wonder, Mr. O'Day, what those great masters + in art could have done without the protection of the church. I wonder what + the poor of to-day would do without their priests. Go up to 28th Street + and look in at St. Barnabas's. Its doors are open from before sunrise + until near midnight. When you are in trouble, either hungry or hunted, and + most of the poor are both, walk in and see what will happen. You'll find + that a priest in New York is everything from a policeman to a hospital + nurse, and he is always on his job. When nobody else listens, he listens; + when nobody else helps, he holds out a hand. I haven't lived here sixty + years for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “When you say 'listen,'” asked Felix, whose attention to the conversation + had never wavered, “do you refer to the confessional?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not. That's the least part of it. So are the mass and the candles + and choir-boys and the rest of the outfit, all very well in their way, for + Sundays and fast-days, but just so much stage scenery to me, though its + heaven to the poor devils who get color and music and restful quiet in + contrast to their barren homes. But praying before the altar is only + one-quarter of what these priests are doing every hour of the day and + night. It's part of my business to follow them around, and I know. Hand me + a light, Tim, my pipe's out.” + </p> + <p> + Felix, being nearest the box, struck a match and held it close to Silas's + bowl, a cloud of smoke rising between them. When it had cleared, O'Day + remarked quietly: “Don't stop, Mr. Murford; go on, I am listening. You + have, as you said, only told us one-quarter of what these priests are + doing. Where do the other three-quarters come in?” + </p> + <p> + Silas rapped the bowl against the arm of his chair to clear it the better, + and, twisting his great bulk toward O'Day, said slowly: “If I tell you, + will you listen and keep on listening until I get through?” + </p> + <p> + Felix bowed his head in acquiescence. The others, knowing what a story + from Silas meant, craned their necks in his direction. + </p> + <p> + “Well! One night last winter—over on Avenue A, snow on the ground, + mind you, and cold as Greenland—a row broke out on the third floor + of a tenement house. In the snow on the sidewalk shivered a half-naked + girl. She was sobbing. Her father had come in from his night shift at the + gas house, crazy drunk, a piece of lead pipe in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Two or three people had stopped, gazed at the girl, and passed her by. + Tenement-house rows are too common in some districts to be bothered over. + A policeman crossed the street, peered up the stairway, listened to the + screams inside, looked the sobbing girl over, and kept on his way, + swinging his club. A priest came along—one I know, a well-set-up + man, who can take care of himself, no matter where. He touched the girl's + arm and drew her inside the doorway, his head bent to hear her story. Then + he went up—in jumps—two steps at a time—stumbling in the + dark, picking himself up again, catching at the rail to help him mount the + quicker, the screams overhead increasing at every step. When he reached + the door, it was bolted on the inside. He let drive with his shoulder and + in it went. The girl's mother was crouching in the far corner of the room, + behind a heavy sofa. The drunken husband stood over her, trying to get at + her skull with the piece of lead pipe. + </p> + <p> + “At the bursting in of the door the brute wheeled and, with an oath, made + straight for the priest, the weapon in his fist. + </p> + <p> + “The priest stepped clear of the door-jamb, moved under the single + gas-jet, drew out his crucifix, and held it up. + </p> + <p> + “The drunkard stood staring. + </p> + <p> + “The priest advanced step by step. The brute cowered, staggered back, and + fell in a heap on the floor.” + </p> + <p> + “Magnificent,” broke out Lockwood. “Superb! And well told. You would make + a great actor, Murford.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” answered Silas with a reproving look, “but don't forget that it + HAPPENED.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't a doubt of it,” exclaimed Felix quietly, “but please go on, Mr. + Murford. To me your story has only begun. What happened next?” + </p> + <p> + Silas's eyes glistened. Lockwood's criticism had gone over his head; he + was accustomed to that sort of thing. What pleased him was the interest + O'Day had shown in his pet subject—the sufferings of the poor being + one of his lifelong topics of thought and conversation. + </p> + <p> + “The confessional happened next,” replied Silas. “Then a sober husband, a + sober wife, and a girl at work—and they are still at it—for I + got the man a job as night-watchman in the custom-house, at Father Cruse's + request.” + </p> + <p> + Felix started forward. “You surely don't mean Father Cruse of St. + Barnabas's?” he exclaimed eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it he who burst in that door?” + </p> + <p> + “It was, and there isn't a tramp or a stranded girl within half a mile of + where we sit that he doesn't know and take care of. So I say you can have + your money kings and your popes and your doges; as for me, I'll take + Father Cruse every time, and there's dozens just like him.” + </p> + <p> + Felix pushed back his chair, reached for his hat, said good night in his + usual civil tone, and left the shop, Murford merely nodding at him over + the bowl of his pipe, the others taking no notice of his departure. It was + the way they did things at Kelsey's. There were no great welcomings when + they arrived and no good-bys when they parted. They would meet again the + next night, perhaps the next morning—and more extended courtesies + were considered unnecessary. + </p> + <p> + All the way back to Kitty's the erect figure of Father Cruse, holding the + emblem of his faith in that dimly lighted room stood out clear. He + wondered why he had not seen more of the man whose courage and faith he + himself had dimly recognized at their first meeting, and determined to + cultivate his acquaintance at once. Long ago he had promised Kitty to do + so. He would keep that promise by timing his visit so as to reach St. + Barnabas's when the service was over. The balance of the evening could + then be spent with the father. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at his watch and a glow of satisfaction spread over his face as + he noted the hour. Kitty would be up, and he would have the opportunity of + delighting her with the details of the tribute Murford had paid her + beloved priest. The more he pictured the effect upon her, the lighter grew + his heart. + </p> + <p> + He began before the knob of the sitting-room had left his hand and had + gone as far as: “Oh I heard something about a friend of yours who—” + when she checked him by rising to her feet and exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Hold on a minute and listen to me first. I have something that belongs to + ye. I found it after ye'd gone out, and ran after ye. I thought ye'd miss + it and come back. I wonder ye didn't. Ye see I was tidyin' up yer room, + and yer brush dropped down behind the bureau; and when I pushed it out + from the wall I found this under the edge of the carpet. Ye better keep + these little things in the drawer.” Her hand was in the capacious pocket + of her apron as she spoke, her plump fingers feeling about its depths. + “Oh, here it is,” she cried. “I was gettin' nigh scared ter death fer fear + I'd lost it. Here, give me your cuff and I'll put it in fer ye.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? A cuff button?” he asked, controlling his disappointment but + biding his time. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and a good one.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Mistress Kitty, but it cannot be mine,” he returned with a + smile. “I have but one pair, and both buttons are in place, as you can + see,” and he held out his cuffs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, who can this one belong to? Take a look at it. It's got arms + on one button and two letters mixed up together on the other,” and she + dropped it into his hand. + </p> + <p> + Felix held the sleeve-links to the light, smothered a cry and, with a + quick movement of his hands, steadied himself by the table. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get this?” he breathed rather than spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I just told ye. Down behind the bureau where ye dropped it, along with + your hair-brush.” + </p> + <p> + Felix tightened his fingers, straining the muscles of his arms, striving + with all his might to keep his body from shaking. He had his back to her, + his face toward the lamp, and had thus escaped her scrutiny. “I haven't + lost it,” he faltered, prolonging the examination to gain time and + speaking with great deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “Ye haven't! Oh, I am that disappointed! And ye didn't drop it? Well, + then, who did drop it?” she cried, looking over his shoulder. She had been + thinking all the evening how pleased he would be when she returned it, and + in her chagrin had not noticed the mental storm he was trying to master. + </p> + <p> + “And ye're sure ye didn't drop it?” she reiterated. + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure,” he answered slowly, his face still in the shadow, the link + still in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's the strangest thing I ever heard! We don't have nobody—we + ain't never had nobody up in that room with things on 'em like that. The + fellow that John and I fired didn't have no sleeve-buttons.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps somebody else may have dropped it,” he answered, sinking into a + chair. He was devouring her face, trying to read behind her eyes, praying + she would go on, yet fearing to prolong the inquiry lest she should + discover his agitation. + </p> + <p> + “No, there ain't nobody,” she said at last, “and if there was there + wouldn't—Stop! Hold on a minute, I got it! You've bin here six + months or more, ain't ye?” + </p> + <p> + Felix nodded, his eyes still fastened on her own. A nod was better than + the spoken word until his voice obeyed him the better. + </p> + <p> + “An' ye ain't had a soul in that room but yerself since ye've been here? + Is that true?” + </p> + <p> + Again Felix nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's true, whether ye say it or not. What a fool I was to ask + ye! I got it now. That sleeve-link belongs to a poor creature who slept in + that room three or four days before ye come and skipped the next morning.” + </p> + <p> + Felix's fingers tightened on the arm of the chair. For the moment it + seemed to him as if he were swaying with the room. “Some one you were kind + to, I suppose,” he said, lifting a hand to shade his face, the words + coming one at a time, every muscle in his body taut. + </p> + <p> + “What else could we do? Leave the poor thing out in the cold and wet?” + </p> + <p> + “It was, then, some one you picked up, was it not?” The room had stopped + swaying and he was beginning to breathe evenly again. He saw that he had + not betrayed himself. Her calm proved it; and so did the infinite pity + that crept into her tones as she related the incident. + </p> + <p> + “No, some one Tom McGinniss picked up on his beat, or would have picked up + hadn't John and I come along. And that wet she was, and everything + streamin' puddles, an' she, poor dear, draggled like a dog in the gutter.” + </p> + <p> + Felix's sheltering hand sagged suddenly, exposing for a moment his + strained face and wide-open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't understand it was a woman,” he stammered, turning his head still + farther from the light of the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, it was a woman, and a lady, too. That's what I've been + a-tellin' ye. Here, take my seat if that light gets into your eyes. I see + it's botherin' ye. It's that red shade that does it. It sets John half + crazy sometimes. I'll turn it down. Well, that's better. Yes, a lady. An' + she wet as a rat an' all the heart out of her. An' that link ye got in yer + hand is hers and nobody else's. John and I had been to evening service at + St. Barnabas's, an' we hung on behind till everybody had gone so as to + have a word with Father Cruse, after he had taken off his vestments. We + bid him good night, come out of the 29th Street door, and kept on toward + Lexington Avenue. We hadn't gone but a little way from the church, when + John, who was walking ahead, come up agin Tom McGinniss. He was stooping + over a woman huddled up on them big front steps before you get to the + corner. + </p> + <p> + “'What are you doin', Tom?' says John. + </p> + <p> + “'It's a drunk,' he says, 'an I'll run her in an' she'll sleep it off and + be all the better in the mornin'.' + </p> + <p> + “'Let me take a look at her, Tom,' says I; an' I got close to her breath + and there was no more liquor inside her than there is in me this minute. + </p> + <p> + “'You'll do nothin' of the kind, Tom McGinniss,' says I. 'This poor thing + is beat out with cold and hunger. Give her to me. I'll take her home. Get + hold of her, John, an' lift her up.' + </p> + <p> + “If ye'd 'a' seen her, Mr. O'Day, it would have torn ye all to pieces. The + life and spirit was all out of her. She was like a child half asleep, that + would go anywhere you took her. If I'd said, 'Come along, I'm goin' to + drown ye,' she'd 'a' come just the same. Not one word fell out of her + mouth. Just went along between us, John an' I helpin' her over the curbs + and gutters until she got to this kitchen, an' I sat her down in that + chair, close by the stove, and began to dry her out, for her dress was all + soaked in the mud and streamin' with water. I got some hot coffee into + her, an' found a pair of John's old shoes, an' put 'em on her feet till I + had dried her own, an' when she got so she could speak—not drunk, + mind ye, nor doped; just dazed like as if she had been hunted and had + given up all hope. She said like a sick child speakin': 'You've been very + kind, and I'm very grateful. I'll go now.' + </p> + <p> + “'No, ye won't,' I says; 'ye'll stay where ye are. Ye don't leave this + place to-night. Ye'll go up-stairs and git into my bed.' She looked at me + kind o' scared-like; then she looked at John an' our big man Mike who had + come in while I was dryin' her out, but I stopped that right away. 'No, ye + needn't worry,' I said, 'an' ye won't. Ye're just as safe here as ye would + be in your mother's arms. Ye ain't the first one my man John an' I have + taken care of, an' ye won't be the last. Take another sip o' that hot + coffee, an' come with me.' + </p> + <p> + “Well, we got her up-stairs, an' I helped her undress, an' when I unhooked + her skirt an' it fell to the floor, I saw what I was up aginst. She had + the finest pair of silk stockings on her feet ye ever seen in your life, + and her petticoat was frills up to her knees. She said nothin' an' I said + nothin'. 'Git in,' I said, an' I turned down the cover and come out. The + next mornin' the boys had to get over to Hoboken, an' I was up before + daylight and then back to bed again. At seven o'clock I went to her room + and pushed in the door. She was gone, an' I've never seen her since. That + cuff-link's hers. Take it up-stairs with ye an' put it in the wash-stand + drawer. I'll lose it if I keep it down here, an' she's bound to come back + for it some day. What time is it? Twelve o'clock, if I'm alive! Well, + then, I'm goin' to bed, and you're goin', too. John's got his key, and + there's his coffee, but he won't be long now.” + </p> + <p> + Felix sat still. Only when she had finished busying herself about the room + making ready to close the place for the night did he rouse himself. So + still was he, and so absorbed that she thought he had fallen asleep, until + she became aware of a flash from under the overhanging brows and heard him + say, as if speaking to himself: “It was very good of you. Yes, very good—of + you—to do it, and—I suppose she never came back?” + </p> + <p> + “She never did,” returned Kitty, drawing a chair away from the heat of the + stove, “and I'm that sorry she didn't. I'll fix the lights when ye've gone + up. Good night to ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Mrs. Cleary,” and he left the room. + </p> + <p> + In the same absorbed way he mounted the stairs, opened his own door and, + without turning up the gas, sank heavily into a chair, the link still held + fast in his hand. A moment later he sprang from his seat, stepped quickly + to the gas-jet, turned up the light, and held one of the small buttons to + the flame, as if to reassure himself of the initials; then with a + smothered cry fell across the narrow bed, his face hidden in the quilt. + </p> + <p> + For an hour he lay motionless, his mind a seething caldron, above which + writhed distorted shapes who hid their faces as they mounted upward. When + these vanished and a certain calm fell upon him, two figures detached + themselves and stood clear: a woman cowering on a door-step, her skirts + befouled with the slime of the streets, and a priest with hand upraised, + his only weapon the symbol of his God. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XII + </h2> + <p> + The morning brought him little relief. He drank his coffee in comparative + silence and crossed the street to his work with only a slight bend of his + head toward Kitty, who was helping Mike tag some baggage. She noticed then + how pale he was and the wan smile that swept over his face as she waved + her hand at him in answer, but she was too busy over the trunks to give + the subject further thought. + </p> + <p> + Masie was waiting for him in the back part of the shop, which, by the same + old process of moving things around, had been fitted up into a sort of + private office for Kling, two high-back settles serving for one wall, + three bureaus for another, while some Spanish chairs, a hair-cloth sofa + studded with brass nails, an inlaid table, and a Daghestan rug helped to + make it secluded and attractive. Kling liked the new arrangement because + he could keep one eye on his books and the other on the front door, thus + killing two birds with one stone. Masie loved it because when Felix had so + many customers that he could neither talk nor play with her, it served her + as a temporary refuge—as would a shelter until the rain was over—and + Felix delighted in it because it kept Kling out of the way, the + good-natured Dutchman having often spoiled a sale by what Felix called + “inopportune remarks at opportune moments.” + </p> + <p> + Although Masie's business on this particular morning was nothing more + important than merely saying good-by to her “Uncle Felix” before she went + to school, her wee stub of a nose had, until she saw him cross the street, + been flattened against the glass of her father's front door, her two + eager, anxious eyes fixed on Kitty's sidewalk. Felix was over an hour + late, something which had never happened before and something which could + not have happened now unless he had either overslept himself—an + unbelievable fact, or was ill—a calamity which could not be thought + of for a moment. + </p> + <p> + While a nod and a faint smile had done for Kitty, and a “No, I was not + very well last night,” had sufficed for Kling, whose eyebrows made the + inquiry—he never finding fault with O'Day for lapses of any kind—the + case was far different when it came to Masie. The little lady had to be + coaxed into one of the easy chairs in the improvised office and comforted + with an arm around her shoulder, to say nothing of having her hair + smoothed back from her face, followed by a kiss on her white forehead, + before her overwrought anxieties were allayed. + </p> + <p> + That he was not himself was apparent to every one. Masie was still sure of + it when she bade him good-by, and Kling became convinced of it long before + the day was over. As the afternoon wore on, however, he grew calmer. His + indomitable will began to reassert itself. His manner became more alert, + and his glance clearer. + </p> + <p> + When he found himself able to think, he determined that his first move + must be to find Carlin, and that very night. It had been some weeks since + he had visited the ship-chandler. He had tried the latch several times, + and would have repeated his visits had not a bystander told him that + Carlin was in the country fitting out a yacht for one of his customers and + would not be back for a month. The time was now up. + </p> + <p> + And yet, when he thought it all over, could he, in view of this new phase + of the case, seek Carlin's help and advice? What might be better—and + his heart gave a bound—would be to see Father Cruse. The woman whom + Kitty had picked up might be one of his waifs, who, overcome by fatigue or + illness after leaving the church, had fallen on the door-step where the + policeman had found her. + </p> + <p> + At six o'clock he left the shop with a formal good night to Kling, a + hasty, almost abrupt good-by to Masie, and, without a word of any kind to + Kitty, whose quiet scrutiny he dreaded, bent his steps to a small + eating-room in the basement of one of the old-time private houses in + Lexington Avenue, where he sometimes took his meals. At seven o'clock he + was threading his way through the crowds in Third Avenue, searching the + face of every one he met. At eight o'clock, his impatience growing, he + turned into 28th Street and mounted the short flight of steps in front of + St. Barnabas's. The tones of the organ, as well as the illumined + stained-glass windows and the groups of people around the swinging doors + of the vestibule, showed that a service was being held. These, however, + were the only evidences that a body of people had met to pray inside, both + pavements outside being filled with hurrying throngs, as were the barrooms + opposite, crowded with loud-talking men lining the bars, with here and + there a woman at a table. + </p> + <p> + Passing through the vestibule doors, he entered the church and found a + seat near the entrance. Father Cruse, in full vestments, was officiating. + He was before the altar at the moment, his back to the congregation. Most + of them were working people who had only their evenings free, and for whom + these services were held: girls from the department stores, servants with + an evening out, trainmen from the Elevated, off duty for an hour or two, + small storekeepers whose places closed early, with their wives and + children beside them, all under the spell of the hushed interior. Some + prayed without moving, their heads bowed; others kept their eyes fixed on + the priest. One or two had their faces turned toward the choir-loft, + completely absorbed in the full, deep tones that rolled now and then + through the responses. + </p> + <p> + Nothing of all this impressed Felix at first. He had always regarded the + Roman Catholic church as embodying a religion adapted only to the ignorant + and the superstitious. But, as he looked about on the rapt body of + worshippers, he suddenly wondered if there were not something in its + beliefs, forms, and ceremonies that he had hitherto missed. + </p> + <p> + The wonder grew upon him as he watched the worshippers, his eyes resting + now on a figure of a woman on her knees before the small altar at his + left, her half-naked baby flat on its back beside her; and again that of + an unkempt gray-haired man, his clothes old and ragged, his body bent, his + lips trembling in supplication. All at once, and for the first time in his + life, he began to realize the existence of a something all-powerful, to + which these people appealed, a something beneficent which swept their + faces free of care, as a light drives out darkness, and sent them home + with new hope and courage. Religion had played no part in his life. From + his boyhood he had made his fight without it. Had they tried and failed + and, disheartened in their failure, sought at last for higher help, + realizing that no one man was strong enough to make the fight of life + alone? + </p> + <p> + As he asked himself these questions, the personality of the priest began + to exert its influence over him. He followed his movements, the dignity + and solemnity with which he exercised his functions, the reverential tones + of his voice, the adoration shown in his every act and gesture. And as he + watched there arose another question—one he had often debated within + himself: Were these people about him calmed and rested by the magnetic + personality of the big-chested, strong-armed man; were they aided by the + seductions of music, incense, and color, including the very vestments that + hung from his broad shoulders; or did the calm and rest and aid proceed + from a source infinitely higher, more powerful, more compelling, as had + been shown in the case of the would-be murderer cowed by the sight of a + sacred emblem? And if there were two personalities, two influences, two + dominant powers, one of man and the other of God, which one had he, Felix + O'Day, come here to invoke? + </p> + <p> + At this mental question, the more practical side of his nature came to the + fore. + </p> + <p> + “Neither of them,” he said firmly to himself, “neither God nor priest.” + What he had come for had nothing to do with religion or with its forms. A + woman had been found lying on a door-step near this church, who might have + attended the same evening service. If so, Father Cruse might have seen her—no + doubt knew her, in fact, must have both seen and recognized her. She was + the kind of woman whom Murford said Father Cruse helped. What he was here + for was to ask the priest a simple, straightforward question. This over, + he would continue on his way. + </p> + <p> + Then a sudden check arose. How was he to describe this woman? He had not + dared probe Kitty for any further details than those she had given him. To + waste therefore, the valuable time of Father Cruse with no more + information than he at present possessed would be as inconsiderate as it + was foolish. + </p> + <p> + With this new view of the difficulty confronting him, he reached for his + hat, so as to be ready at the first break in the service to tiptoe + noiselessly out. He would then go back to Kitty and, without exciting her + suspicions, learn something more of the outward appearance of the object + of her tender sympathy. + </p> + <p> + As he was about to leave the pew, the tones of a tiny bell were heard + through the aisles. Instantly a deep, almost breathless, silence fell upon + the church. The penitents, who were on their knees beneath the clusters of + candles lighting the side chapels, remained motionless; those in the seats + bowed their heads, their foreheads resting on the backs of the pews. + </p> + <p> + As he listened with lowered head, a dull, scuffling sound was heard near + the swinging doors of the vestibule, as if some one were being roughly + handled. Then an angry voice, “she shan't go in!” followed by + high-pitched, defiant tones: “Get out of my way. I shan't go in, shan't I? + I'd like to see you or anybody else keep me out! This place is free, and + so am I. Jim hasn't showed up, and I'm going to wait for him here. I've + got a date.” + </p> + <p> + She was abreast of Felix now, a girl of twenty, maudlin drunk, her hat + awry, her hair in a frowse, her dress open at the neck. + </p> + <p> + She steadied herself for a moment, and became conscious of Felix, who had + risen, horror-stricken, from his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Jim ain't showed up. He is all right, and don't you forget it. Them guys + wanted to give me the grand bounce, but I got a date, see?” + </p> + <p> + She reeled on up the aisle until she reached the steps of the altar. There + she stood, swaying before the lights, repeating her cry: “They dassen't + touch me. I got a date, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse, without turning, continued his ministrations with the same + composure he would have maintained at a baptism had its solemnity been + disturbed by the cry of a child. By this time, several women, appalled by + the sacrilege, left their seats and moved toward her, begging, then + commanding, her to stop talking, all fearing to add to the noise yet not + daring to let it continue, until they gently but firmly pushed her through + the door at the end of the church and so on into the street. + </p> + <p> + Felix had followed every movement of the girl with an intensity that + almost paralyzed his senses. He had looked into her bloodshot eyes, noted + the hard lines drawn around the corners of her mouth, the coarse, painted + lips, dry hair, and sunken cheeks. He had heard her harsh laugh and caught + the glint of her drunken leer. A cold shiver swept through him. It was as + if he had stepped on a flat stone covering a grave which had tilted + beneath his feet, revealing a corpse but a few months buried. Had he been + anywhere else he would have sunk to the floor—not to pray, but to + rest his knees, which seemed giving out under him. + </p> + <p> + When service was over, he made his way down the aisle, waited until the + last of the worshippers had had their final word with their priest, and, + with a respectful bend of the head in recognition, followed Father Cruse + into the sacristy. + </p> + <p> + “You remember me?” he said in a hoarse, constrained voice when the priest + turned and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are Mr. O'Day—Kitty Cleary's friend, and I need not tell + you how glad I am to see you,” and he held out a cordial hand. + </p> + <p> + “I have come as I promised you I would. Can you give me half an hour?” + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest pleasure. My duties are over just as soon as I put + these vestments away. But I am sorry you came to-night, for you have + witnessed a most distressing sight.” + </p> + <p> + Felix looked at him steadily. “Do such things happen often?” he asked, his + voice breaking. + </p> + <p> + “Everything happens here, Mr. O'Day,” replied the priest gravely; + “incredible things. We once found a baby a month old in the gallery. We + baptized him and he is now one of our choir-boys. But, forgive me,” he + added with a smile, “such sights are best forgotten and may not interest + you.” He was studying his visitor as a doctor does a patient, trying to + discover the seat of the disease. That Felix was not the same man he had + met the night at Kitty's was apparent; then he had been merely a man with + a sorrow, now he seemed laboring under a weight too heavy to bear. + </p> + <p> + Felix drew back his shoulders as if to brace himself the better and said: + “Can we talk here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and with absolute privacy and freedom. Take this chair; I will sit + beside you.” It was the voice of the father confessor now, encouraging the + unburdening of a soul. + </p> + <p> + Felix glanced first around the simple room, with its quiet and seclusion, + then stepped back and closed the sacristy door, saying, as he took his + seat: “There is no need, I suppose, of locking it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he sat with head bowed, one hand pressed to his forehead. The + priest waited, saying nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to you, Father Cruse, because I need a man's help—not a + priest's—a MAN'S. If I have made no mistake, you are one.” + </p> + <p> + The fine white fingers of the priest were rising and falling ever so + slightly on the velvet arm of the chair on which his hand rested, a + compound gesture showing that both his brain and his hand were at his + listener's service. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said gently and firmly. “As priest or man, Mr. O'Day, I am + ready.” + </p> + <p> + Felix paused; the priest bent his head in closer attention. He was + accustomed to halting confessions, and ready with a prompting word if the + sinner faltered. + </p> + <p> + “It is about my wife.” + </p> + <p> + The words seemed to choke him, as if the grip of a long-held silence had + not yet quite relaxed its hold. + </p> + <p> + “Not ill, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she is not ill.” + </p> + <p> + The priest leaned forward, a startled look on his face. “You surely don't + mean she is dead?” + </p> + <p> + O'Day did not answer. + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse settled back into the depths of his chair. “She has left you, + then,” he said in a conclusive tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a year ago.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, started to speak, and, with a baffled gesture, said: “No, you + might better have it all. It is the only way you will understand; I will + begin at the beginning.” + </p> + <p> + The priest laid his hand soothingly on O'Day's wrist. “Take your time. I + have nothing else to do except to listen and—help you if I can.” + </p> + <p> + The touch of the priest had steadied him. “Thank you, Father,” he said + simply, and went on. + </p> + <p> + “A year ago, as I have said, my wife left me and went off with a man named + Dalton. Later I learned she was here, and I came over to see what I could + do to help her.” + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse raised his eyebrows inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, just that—to help her when she needed help, for I knew she + would need it sooner or later. She was not a bad woman when she left me, + and she is not now, unless he has made her so. She is only an easily + persuaded, pleasure-loving woman, and when my father was forced into + bankruptcy and we all suffered together, she blamed me for giving up what + money I had in trying to straighten out his affairs; and then our infant + daughter died, and that so upset her mind that when Dalton came along she + let everything go. That is one solution of it—the one which her + friends give out. I will tell you the truth. It is that I was twenty years + older than she, that she loved me as a young girl loves an older man who + had been brought up almost in her own family, for our properties adjoined, + and that when she woke up, it was to find out that I was not the man she + would have married had she been given a few more years' time in which to + make up her mind. + </p> + <p> + “When she ran away I lost my bearings. I used to sit in my room in the + club for hours at a time, staring at the morning paper, never seeing the + print; thinking only of my wife and our life together—all of it, + from the day we were married. I recalled her childish nature, her fits of + sudden temper always ending in tears, and her wilfulness. Then my own + responsibility loomed up. To let this child go to the devil would be a + crime. When this idea became firmly set in my mind, I determined to follow + her no matter what she had done or where she had gone. + </p> + <p> + “I had meant to go to Australia and look after sheep—I knew + something about them—but I changed my plans when I overheard a + conversation at my club and concluded that Dalton had brought her here—although + the conversation itself was only the repetition of a rumor. Since then I + have found out that they are both here, or were some six months ago. + </p> + <p> + “You can understand, now, why I am living at Mrs. Cleary's and working in + Mr. Kling's store. I had but a few pounds left after paying my passage and + there was no one from whom I could borrow, even if I had been so disposed; + so work of some kind was necessary. It may be just as well for me to tell + you, too, that nobody at home knows where I am, and that but two persons + in New York know me at all. One is a man named Carlin, who served on one + of my father-in-law's vessels, and the other is his sister Martha, who was + a nurse in my wife's family. + </p> + <p> + “Dalton, so I understood, had considerable money when he left, enough to + last him some months, and until yesterday I have hunted for them where I + thought he would be sure to spend it, in the richer cafes and restaurants, + outside the opera-houses and the fashionable theatres—places where + two strangers in the city would naturally spend their evenings, and a + woman loving light and color as she did would want to go. + </p> + <p> + “All these theories were upset last night when Mrs. Cleary gave me some + details of a woman she had picked up near your church. She found her, it + seems, some months ago—last April, in fact—on the steps of a + private house near your church—here on 29th Street—took her + home and made her spend the night there. In the morning she disappeared + without any one seeing her. Yesterday, while moving the bureau in my room, + Mrs. Cleary found a sleeve-link on the carpet; she thought it was one I + had dropped. I have it in my trunk. It is one of a pair my wife gave me on + my birthday, the year we were married. I missed it from my jewel case + after she left, and thought somebody had stolen it. Now I know that my + wife must have taken it, and then dropped it at Mrs. Cleary's. So I came + here tonight hoping against hope—it was so many months ago—to + get some further information regarding her. Then I remembered that I had + not asked Mrs. Cleary what the woman looked like, and I was about to + return home, when that poor girl staggered in, and I got a look at her + face. I lost my hold on myself then and—” + </p> + <p> + He sprang to his feet and began striding across the room, his eyes + blazing, one clinched fist upraised: “By God! Father Cruse, I know + something of Dalton's earlier life and of what he is capable. And I tell + you right here, that if he has brought my wife to that, I shall kill him + the moment I set my eyes on him. To take a child of a woman, foolish and + vain as she was—stupid if you will—and—” he halted, + covered his face in his hands, and broke into sobs. + </p> + <p> + During the long recital Father Cruse had neither spoken nor moved. He was + accustomed to such outbursts, but it had been many years since he had seen + so strong a man weep as bitterly. Better let the storm pass—he would + master himself the sooner. + </p> + <p> + A full minute elapsed, and then, with a groan that seemed to come from the + depths of his being, O'Day lifted his head, brushed the hot tears from his + eyes, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “You must forgive me, for I am utterly broken up. But I can't go on any + longer this way! I have got to let go—I have got to talk to + somebody. That dear woman with whom I live is kindness itself and would do + anything she could for me, but somehow I cannot tell her about these + things. I may be wrong about it—but I was born that way. You know + black from white—you live here right in the midst of it—you + see it every day. Mr. Silas Murford told me the other night at Kelsey's + that you knew everybody in this neighborhood, and so I came to you. Help + me find my wife!” + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse drew his chair closer and laid his hand soothingly on O'Day's + knee. + </p> + <p> + “It is unnecessary for me to tell you I will help you,” he answered in his + low, smooth voice: “And now let us get to work systematically and see what + can be done. I will begin by asking you a few questions. What sort of a + looking woman is your wife?” + </p> + <p> + Felix straightened himself in his chair, felt in his inside pocket, and + took from it a colored photograph. “As you see, she is rather small, with + fair hair, blue eyes, and a slight figure—the usual English type. + She has very beautiful teeth—very white—teeth you would never + forget once you saw them; and she has quite small ears and, although the + picture does not show this, small hands and feet.” + </p> + <p> + “And how would she dress now? This evidently was taken some years ago. I + mean, what was her habit of dress? Would it be such as an Englishwoman + would wear?” + </p> + <p> + Felix pondered. “Well, when Lady Barbara left she had—” + </p> + <p> + An expression of surprise on the priest's face cut short the sentence. + O'Day looked at him in a startled way; then he recalled his words. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, but it is only fair that you should know that Lady Barbara is + the daughter of Lord Carnavon, and that since my father's death they call + me Sir Felix. I have never used the title here and may never use it + anywhere. I would have assumed some other name when I arrived here, except + that I could not bring myself to give up my own and my father's—he + never did anything to disgrace it. He was caught in a trap, that is all, + and I signed away everything I could to help him out. He stood by me when + I was in India, and when he had a shilling he gave me half. I would rather + have died, much as my wife blamed me, than not to have done what I did. + </p> + <p> + “And I would do it all over again, although I did not realize how big the + load was until settling-day came. Dalton was at the bottom of it all. He + floated the company. There was a story going around the clubs that he had + got me into squaring it all up, knowing that I would be done for, and he + could get away with her easier, but I never believed it. He has come into + his own, if this wretched, suffering woman that Mrs. Cleary picked up is + my wife; and I will come into mine”—here his eyes flashed—“if + he has dragged her down and—” + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse again laid his quieting fingers this time on Felix's wrist. + </p> + <p> + “He has not dragged her down, Mr. O'Day. Of that you may be sure. A woman + of her class doesn't go to pieces in a year. When she reaches the end of + her means she will either seek work or she will go to one of the + institutions to wait until she can hear from her people at home. I have + known—” + </p> + <p> + Felix shook his head with an impatient movement. “You don't know her,” he + exclaimed excitedly, “nor do you know her family. Her father has shut his + door against her, and would step across her body if he found it on the + sidewalk rather than recognize her. Nor would she ask him for a penny, nor + let him or me or any one else know of her misery.” + </p> + <p> + Again the priest sat silent. He did not attempt to defend his theory—some + better way of calming his visitor must be found. He merely said, as if + entirely convinced by O'Day's denial: “Oh, well, we will let that go, + perhaps you know best”; and then added, his voice softening, “and now one + word more, before we go into the details of our search, so that no + complications may arise in the future. You, of course, are hunting for + Lady Barbara to reinstate her as your wife if—” + </p> + <p> + O'Day sprang from his chair and stood over the priest. The suggestion had + come as a blow. + </p> + <p> + “I will take her back!” + </p> + <p> + The priest looked up in astonishment. “Yes, is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + The answer came between closed teeth. “I did not expect that of you, + Father Cruse, I thought you were bigger—MUCH bigger. Can't you + understand how a man may want to stand by a woman for herself alone + without dragging in his own selfishness and—No, I forgot—you + cannot understand—you never held a woman in your arms—you do + not realize her many weaknesses, her childishness, her whims, her + helplessness. But take her back? NEVER! That chapter in my life is dosed. + My hunt for her all these months has been to save her from herself and + from the scoundrel who has ruined her. When that is done I shall pick up + my life as best I can, but not with her.” + </p> + <p> + For some seconds the priest did not speak. Then he said gently, again + avoiding any disagreement. “Let us hope that so happy an ending to all + your sufferings is not far off, my dear Mr. O'Day. And now another + question before we part for the night, one I perhaps ought to have asked + you before. Are you quite positive that Kitty's visitor was your wife?” + </p> + <p> + He had reserved this hopeful suggestion—one he himself believed in—for + the last. It would help lift the dead weight of bitter anxiety which was + sure to overwhelm his visitor in the wakeful hours of the night. + </p> + <p> + Felix moved impatiently, like one combating a physician's cheering words. + “It must have been she, who else could have dropped the sleeve-link?” + </p> + <p> + “Several people. Excuse me if I talk along different lines, but I have had + a good deal of experience in tracing out just such things as this, and I + have always found it safest to be sure of my facts before deducing + theories. It is not all clear to me that Kitty's woman dropped the links. + And even if she did, the fact is no proof that the woman is your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “But the links are mine. There is no question of it—my initials and + arms are cut into them.” The impatience was gone and a certain curiosity + was manifesting itself. + </p> + <p> + “Quite true, and yet you once thought the links were stolen. So let us + presume for the present that they were stolen and that this woman either + bought them, or was given them, or found them.” + </p> + <p> + Felix began pacing the floor, a gleam of hope illumining the dark corners + of his heart. The interview, too, had calmed him—as do all + confessions. + </p> + <p> + The priest settled back in his seat. He saw that the crisis had passed. + There might be another outburst in the future, but it would not have the + intensity of the one he had just witnessed. He waited until Felix was + opposite his chair and then asked, in a low voice: “Well, may I not be + right, Mr. O'Day?” + </p> + <p> + Felix paused in his walk and gazed down at the priest. “I don't know,” he + answered slowly. “My head is not clear enough to think it out. Mrs. Cleary + might help unravel it. She saw her and will remember. Shall I sound her + when I go home—not to excite her suspicions, of course, but so as to + find out whether her visitor were large or small—details like that?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will ask her, and in a way not to make her suspect. She will think + I am hunting for one of my own people. It is wiser that she should not + know yet what you have told me. I would rather wait for the time when this + poor creature, whoever she is, needs a sister's tenderness. She will get + it there, for no finer woman lives than Kitty Cleary.” + </p> + <p> + A sigh of intense relief escaped Felix. “And now tell me where you will + begin your hunt?” he asked, one of his old search-light glances flashing + from beneath his brows. + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere in particular. On the East Side, perhaps, where I have means of + knowing what strangers come and go. Then among my own people here. I shall + know within twenty-four hours whether she has been in the habit of + attending evening service—that is, within the last six months. A + woman of the poorer class would be difficult to locate, but there should + not be the slightest trouble in picking out one who, less than a year ago, + occupied your wife's social position—no matter how badly she were + dressed.” + </p> + <p> + Felix stood musing. He had reached the limit of the help he had come for. + </p> + <p> + “And what can I do to assist?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Go home, and when I need you I will send word. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIII + </h2> + <p> + Had Felix continued his visits to Stephen Carlin's shop, he might have + escaped many sleepless hours and saved himself many weary steps. + </p> + <p> + Fate had doubtless dealt him one of those unlucky cards which we so often + find in our hands when the game of life is being played. If, for instance, + the book to the right, holding the lost will, had been opened instead of + the book to the left; or if we had caught the wrecked train by a minute or + less; or had our penny come up heads instead of coming up tails: how many + of the ills of life would have been avoided? And so I say that had Felix + continued his visits to Stephen as he should have done, he would, one + December afternoon, have found the ship-chandler standing in the door, + spectacles on his nose, checking off a wagon-load of manila rope which had + just been discharged on his pavement, stopping only to nod to the postman + who had brought him a letter. The delay in breaking the seal was due + entirely to the fact that a coil of light cordage, used aboard the yachts + he was accustomed to fit out, had just been reported as missing, and so + the unopened letter was tossed on top a barrel of sperm-oil to await his + convenience. But it was when Stephen caught sight of the small cramped + writing scrawled over the cheap yellow envelope, the stamp askew, his own + name and address crowded in the lower left-hand corner, that the supreme + moment really arrived, for at that instant—had Felix been there—he + would have seen Carlin slit the covering with his thumb-nail, lay aside + his invoice, and drop on the first seat within reach, to steady himself. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, had Felix on this same December afternoon surprised him even an + hour later, say at six o'clock, which he could very well have done, for + Carlin did not close his shop until seven, he would have come upon him + with the same letter in his hand, his whole mind absorbed in its contents, + especially the last paragraph: “Be here at seven o'clock, sharp; don't + ring the bell below, just rap twice and I shall know it is you. I have to + be very careful who I let in.” + </p> + <p> + It had been several weeks since Carlin had heard from his sister. She had + called at the store on her return from Canada, where she had spent the + summer, and he had helped her find a small suite of rooms on a side street + off St. Mark's Place, which she subsequently occupied, but since then she + had never crossed his threshold. At first she had kept him advised of her + nursing engagements—the days when her work carried her out of town, + or the addresses of those who needed her in the city. These brief + communications having entirely ceased, he had decided in his anxiety to + look her up and, strange to say, on that very night. That his hand + trembled and his rough, weather-browned face became tinged with color as + he read her letter to the end, turning the page and reading the whole a + second time, would have surprised anybody who knew the stern, silent old + sailor. His clerk, a thin, long-necked young man wearing a paper collar + and green necktie, noticed his agitation and guessed wrong—Carlin + being a confirmed old bachelor. And so did the driver of the wagon, who + had to wait for his receipt and who, wondering at Stephen's emotion, would + have asked what the letter was all about had not the ship-chandler, after + consulting his watch, crammed the envelope into his side pocket, jumped to + his feet, and shouted to the Paper Collar to “roll the stuff off that + sidewalk and get everything stowed away, as he was going up to St. Mark's + Place.” + </p> + <p> + Here and there in the whir of the great city a restful breathing-spot is + found, its stretch of grass dotted with moss-covered tombs grouped around + a low-pitched church. At certain hours the sound of bells is heard and the + low rhythm of the organ throbbing through the aisles. Then lines of + quietly dressed worshippers stroll along the bordered walks, the + children's hands fast in their mothers' the arched vestibule-door closing + upon them. + </p> + <p> + Most of these oases, like Trinity, St. Paul's, and St. Mark's, differ but + little—the same low-pitched church, the same slender spire, the same + stretch of green with its scattered gravestones. And, outside, the same + old demon of hurry, defied and hurled back by a lifted hand armed with the + cross. + </p> + <p> + Of these three breathing-spaces, St. Mark's is, perhaps, a little greener + in the early spring, less dusty in the summer heat, less bare and + uninviting in the winter snow. It is more restful, too, than the others, a + place in which to sit and muse—even to read. Out from its shade and + sunshine run queer side streets, with still queerer houses, rising two + stories and an attic, each with a dormer and huge chimney. Dried-up old + aristocrats, these, living on the smallest of pensions, taking toll of + notaries public, shyster lawyers, peddlers of steel pens, die-cutters, and + dismal real-estate agents in dismal offices boasting a desk, two chairs, + and a map. + </p> + <p> + Stephen's course lay in the direction of one of these relics of better + days—a wide-eyed house with a pieced-out roof, flattened like an old + woman's wig over a sloping forehead, the eyebrows of eaves shading two + blinking windows. A most respectable old dowager of a building, no doubt, + in its time, with the best of Madeira and the choicest of cuts going down + two steps into its welcoming basement. That was before the iron railings + were covered with rust and before the three brownstone steps leading to + the front door were worn into scoops by heavy shoes; before the polished + mahogany doors were replaced by pine and painted a dull, dirty green; + before the banisters with their mahogany rail were as full of cavities as + a garden fence with half its palings gone; and before—long before—some + vulgar Paul Pry had cut a skylight in the hipped roof, through which he + could peer, taking note of whatever went on inside the gloomy interior: + each of these several calamities but so much additional testimony to its + once grand estate, and every one of them but so many steps in its downward + career. + </p> + <p> + For it had become anything but a happy house—this old dowager + dwelling of the long ago. Indeed, it was a very mournful and most + depressing house, and so were its tenants. In the basement was a barber + who spent half his time lounging about inside the small door, without his + white jacket, waiting for customers. On the first-floor-back there was a + music-teacher whose pupils were so few and far between that only the + shortest of lessons at the longest of intervals were recited on her piano; + on the second-floor-front was a wood-engraver who took to photography to + pay his rent. On the second-floor-back was a dressmaker who could not + collect her bills; while in the rear was a laundress who washed for the + tenants. Lastly, there was Mrs. Martha Munger, Stephen Carlin's sister, + who occupied the third floor both front and back, over the laundress's + quarters, the one chimney serving them both. + </p> + <p> + While the evil eye of the skylight, despite its dishonorable calling, + might have been put to some good use during the day, it can be safely said + that it was of no earthly, and for that matter of no heavenly, use during + the night. Nor did anything else in the way of illumination take its + place. My Lady Dowager's patrons were too poor or too stingy to furnish + even a single burner up and down the three flights. The excuse was that + the rays of the arc-light, blazing away on the opposite side of the + street, were not only powerful enough to shine through the weather-beaten + hall door covering the entrance but, still further, to illuminate the + rickety staircase—the very staircase up which Stephen Carlin was now + groping in answer to Martha's letter. + </p> + <p> + She had heard his heavy tread on the creaky steps, and was watching for + him with the door ajar—an inch at first, and then wide open, her + kerosene lamp held over the railing to give him light. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I'm glad you've come, Stephen. I was getting worried. I was + afraid maybe you didn't get the letter. It's black dark outside, isn't + it?” and she glanced at the cheap clock on the mantel behind her. “Come + in, the kettle was boiling over when I heard you. I'll talk to you in a + minute.” + </p> + <p> + He followed with only a pressure of her hand, and, without a word of + greeting, seated himself near a table. In the same quiet, silent way he + watched her as she busied herself about the apartment, lifting the kettle + from the stove, adjusting the wick of the lamp which had begun to smoke + from the draft of the open door, taking from a shelf two cups and saucers + and from a tin bread box a loaf and some crackers. + </p> + <p> + When, in one of her journeys to and fro, she passed where the light of the + lamp fell full upon her round face, framed in its white cap and long + strings, he gave a slight start. There were dark circles below her eyes + and heavy lines near the corners of her mouth—signs he had not seen + since the month she had spent in the Marine Hospital when the plague was + stamped out. He noticed, too, that her robust figure, with its broad + shoulders and capacious bosom, restful pillow to many a new-born baby, + seemed shrunken—not in weight, but in its spring, as if all her + alertness (she was under fifty) had oozed out. It was only when she had + completed her labors and taken a chair beside him, her soft, nursing hand + covering his own, that his mind reverted to the tragedy which had brought + him to her side. Even then, although she sat with her face turned toward + his, her eyes reading his own, some moments passed before either of them + spoke. At last, in a wondering, dazed way, she exclaimed: “Have you, in + all your life, Stephen, ever heard anything like it?” + </p> + <p> + Carlin shook his head. The letter had given him the facts, and no + additional details could alter the situation. It was as if a dead body + were lying in the next room awaiting interment; when the time came he + would step in and look at it, ask the hour of burial, and step out again. + </p> + <p> + “I came as soon as I'd read your letter,” he said slowly examining one by + one his rough fingers bunched together in his lap. “We got chuck-a-block + on Second Avenue or I'd have been here before. Why didn't you let me know + sooner?” As he spoke he shifted his gaze to the wrinkles in her throat—a + new anxiety rising as he noticed how many more had gathered since he saw + her last. + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn't have it, and I want to tell you that you've got to be + careful, as it is. And mind you don't speak too sudden to her.” + </p> + <p> + In answer he craned his head as if to see around the jamb of the door + leading into the smaller room and, lowering his voice, whispered: “Is she + here now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but she will be in a few minutes; she's often late, she waits until + it's dark.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has she been here with you?” + </p> + <p> + “About two weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Two weeks! You didn't tell me that.” + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn't let me. She is having trouble enough and I have to do pretty + much as she wants.” + </p> + <p> + He ruminated for a moment, this time scrutinizing the palms of his hands, + seemingly interested in some callous spots near the thumb-joint, and then + asked: “How did she find you?” + </p> + <p> + “By God's mercy and nothing else. I was sitting in a Third Avenue car and + there she was opposite. I couldn't believe my eyes, she was that changed! + She would have been off the dock, I believe, if she hadn't found me. She + has run away from Dalton now, and is so scared of him she trembles every + time some one comes up the stairs. That's why I wrote you not to ring. He + has nothing left. He kept a-hounding her to write to her father and nigh + drove her crazy; so she left him.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she know Mr. Felix is here?” He had finished with the callous spots + and was cracking every horny knuckle in his fingers as he spoke, as if + their loosening might help solve the problem that vexed him. + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't dared tell her. She would be off the dock for sure then. + She is more afraid of him than she is of Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Felix won't hurt her,” he rejoined sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but she knows she'd hurt HIM if he finds out how bad she's off. + She'd rather he'd think she's living like she used to do. Oh, Stephen—Stephen, + but it's a bad, bad business! I'm beat out wondering what ought to be + done.” + </p> + <p> + She pushed back her chair, and began walking up and down the room like one + whose suffering can find no other relief, pausing now and then to speak to + him as she passed. “I tried to get her to listen. I told her Mr. Felix + might be coming over from London. I had to put it to her that way, but she + nearly went out of her mind, stiffened up, and began to put on such a wild + look that I had to stop. Have you heard from him lately?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wrote and wrote and could get no answer. Then I went up to where he + boarded, and the woman told me he'd been gone some months—she didn't + know where. He left no word, and she forgot to get the name of the express + that came for his trunk. He is down with sickness somewheres, or he'd have + showed up. He was not himself at all when I last saw him—that's long + before you got back from Canada. He's done nothing but walk the streets + since he come ashore.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen stopped, as if it were too painful for him to continue, looked + around the room, noting its bareness, and asked, with a break in his + voice: “Where do you put her?” + </p> + <p> + “In the little room. She wouldn't take mine and she won't let me help her. + She got work at first on 14th Street, in that big store near the Square, + and worked there for a while, that was when she was with Dalton. But + Dalton drove her out. And when she was near dead, with nothing to eat, + some people picked her up and she stayed with them all night—she + never told me where. That was last spring. She stood it for some months + living from hand to mouth, she working her fingers to the bone for him, + until she was afraid of her life and left him again. She was going she + didn't know where when I looked at her 'cross the car and she saw me. + </p> + <p> + “'Martha!' she cried, and was on the seat next me, my two arms about her. + She was sobbing like a lost child who has found its mother again. There + were two other women in the car, and they wanted to help, but I told them + it was only my baby back again. We were near 10th Street at the time and I + got her out and brought her here and put her to bed—Listen! Keep + still a moment! That's her step! Yes, thank God, she's alone! I'm always + scared lest he should come with her. Get in there behind the curtain!” + </p> + <p> + Martha had lifted the lamp again as she spoke, and was holding it over the + banister, one hand down-stretched toward a woman whose small white fingers + were clutching the mahogany rail, pulling herself up one step at a time. + </p> + <p> + “Don't hurry, my child. It's a hard climb, I know. Give me the box. I + began to get worried. Are you tired?” + </p> + <p> + “A little. It has been a long day.” She sighed as she passed into the + room, the nurse following with a large pasteboard box. + </p> + <p> + “It's good to get back to you,” she continued, sinking into a chair near + the mantel and unfastening her cloak. “The stairs seem to grow steeper + every time I come up. Thank you. Just hang it behind the door. And now my + hat, please.” She lifted the cheap black straw from her head, freeing a + fluff of light-golden hair, and with her fingers combed it back from her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “And please bring me my slippers. I have walked all the way home, and my + poor feet ache.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse stooped for the hat, patted the thin shoulders, and went into + the adjacent room for the slippers, whispering to Carlin on her way back + to keep hidden until she called. He was still standing concealed by the + folds of the calico curtain dividing the apartment, a choke in his throat + as he watched the frail woman, her sharpened knees outlined under the + folds of the black dress and, below it, the edge of a white petticoat + bespattered with mud, the whole figure drooping as if there were not + strength enough along its length to hold the body upright. What shocked + him even more were the deep-sunken eyes and the hollows in the cheeks and + about the brows. All the laugh and sparkle of the once joyous, beautiful + girl he had known were gone. Only the gentle voice was left. + </p> + <p> + Martha was now back, kneeling on the floor, untying the shabby shoes, + rubbing the small, delicately shaped feet in her plump hands to rest and + warm them. “There, my lamb, that's better,” he heard her say, as she drew + on the heelless slippers. “I'll have tea in a minute. The kettle's been + boiling this hour.” Then, as though it were an afterthought: “Stephen + wants to see you, so I told him maybe you would let him. Shall I tell him + to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother, you mean? The one who lives here in New York?” she asked + listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he's never forgotten you. And—” + </p> + <p> + “Some day I will see him, Martha. I shall be better soon, and then—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped and stared at Carlin, who misunderstanding Martha's words, had + drawn aside the calico curtain and was advancing toward her, bowing as he + walked, the choke still in his throat. “I hope your ladyship is not + offended,” he ventured. “It was all one family once, if I may say so, and + there is only Martha and me.” + </p> + <p> + She had straightened as she saw him coming and then, remembering that she + was in Martha's room, and he Martha's brother, she held out her hand. “No, + Stephen, I am very glad. I was only a little startled. It is a long time + since I saw you, but I remember you quite well, and you have not changed. + A little grayer perhaps. When was it?” + </p> + <p> + “When I came back from Calcutta, your ladyship, and the Rover was wrecked. + Your father ordered the crew home. I was first mate, your ladyship + remembers, and had to look after them. Some six years agone, I take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it all comes back to me now,” she answered dreamily “six years—is + it not more than that?” + </p> + <p> + “No, your ladyship. Just about six.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, rested her head on her hand, and looked at him intently from + beneath the wave of hair that had dropped again about her brow, and asked: + “Why do you still call me 'your ladyship' Stephen?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know, your ladyship. Mebbe it's because I've always been + used to it. But I won't if your ladyship doesn't want me to.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, it does not matter. It has been so long since I have heard it + that it sounded odd, that was all.” She roused herself with an effort and + added, in a brighter tone, changing the topic: “It was very good of you to + come to see Martha. She has me to look after now, and I am afraid she gets + unhappy at times. You cannot think how good she is to me—so good—so + good! I often wake in the night dreaming I am a child again and stretch + out my hand to her, just as I used to do years ago when she slept beside + me. She often speaks of you. I am glad you came to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Carlin had been standing over her all the time, his rough pea-jacket + buttoned across his broad chest, his ruddy sailor's face with its fringe + of gray whiskers, bushy eyebrows, and clear, steady gaze in vivid contrast + to her own shrinking weakness. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't altogether Martha,” he exclaimed in tones suddenly grown + deliberate. “It's you, your ladyship, that I particular came to see. You + ain't fit to take care of yourself, and there ain't nobody but me and + Martha that I can lay hands on now to help—nobody but just us two. + I'm not here to judge nobody. I know what's happened and what you're going + through, and you've got to let me lend a hand. If I lived to be a hundred + I could never forget his lordship's kindness to me, and things can't go on + as they are with you. There is a way out of it if you only knew it.” + </p> + <p> + She threw back her head quickly. “Not my Father?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not your father. Although his lordship would haul down his colors + mighty quick if once he saw you as I do now. But there are others who + would be glad to take a hand at the wheel and help you steer out of all + this misery. You ain't accustomed to it and you don't deserve it, and I'm + going to put a stop to it if I can.” This last came with still greater + emphasis—the first mate was speaking now. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Stephen. You and Martha are very much alike. She has the + loyalty of an old servant, and you have the loyalty of an old friend. But + we must all pay for our mistakes—” she halted, drew in her breath, + and added, picking at her dress, “—and our sins. Everybody condemns + us but God. He is the only one who forgets, when we are sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so many remember as you may think, your ladyship. Some of 'em have + forgotten—forgotten everything—and are standing by ready to + catch a line or man a boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there are always kind people in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there mayn't be such an awful lot of 'em as you think, but I know + one. There's Mr. Felix, for instance, who—” + </p> + <p> + She sprang to her feet, her hands held out as a barrier, and stood + trembling, staring wildly at him, all the blood gone from her cheeks. + “Stop, Stephen! Not another word. You must not mention that name to me. I + cannot and will not permit it. I have listened too long already. I am very + grateful for your kindness and for your offers to me, but you must not + touch on my private affairs. I am earning my own living, and I shall + continue to do so. And now I would like to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But, your ladyship, I've got something to tell you which—” + </p> + <p> + Martha stepped between them. “I think, Stephen, you'd better not talk to + her ladyship any more. You might come some other night when she's more + rested. You see she's had a very bad day and—” + </p> + <p> + Stephen's voice rang out clear. “Not say anything more, when—” + </p> + <p> + Martha dug her fingers into his arm. “Hush!” she whispered hoarsely, her + lips close against his hairy cheek. “She'll be on the floor in a dead + faint in a minute. Didn't I tell you not to mention his name?” + </p> + <p> + She stepped quickly to the side of her charge, who had walked falteringly + toward the window and now stood peering into the darkness through the + panes of the dormer. + </p> + <p> + “It's only Stephen's way, child, and you mustn't mind him. He doesn't mean + anything. He hasn't seen much of women, living aboard ship half his life. + It's only his way of trying to be kind. And you see he's known you from a + baby, same as me—and that's why he lets out.” + </p> + <p> + She had folded the pitiful figure in her arms, her hand patting the bent + shoulders. “But we'll get on together, my lamb—you and me. And we'll + have supper right away—And I must ask you, Stephen, to go, now, + because her ladyship is worn out and I'm going to put her to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Carlin picked up his hat and stood fingering the rim, trying to make up + his mind whether he should force the truth upon her then or obey orders + and wait. The training of long years told. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just as you say, your ladyship, I won't stay if you don't want me, + but don't forget I'm within call, not more than a half-hour away. All + Martha's got to do is to send a postal card and I'm here. I'm sorry I hurt + your feelings. God knows I didn't mean to! Martha knows what I wanted to + tell you. You'll have to come to it sooner or later. Good night. I hope + your ladyship will be rested in the morning. Good night, Martha. You know + you can write when you want me. Good night again, your ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the door softly, closed it behind him without a sound, placed + his hat on his head, and, reaching out for the hand-rail, felt his way in + the dark down the rickety stairs and out onto the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + Once there, he looked up and down the street as if undecided, turned + sharply, and bent his steps toward Second Avenue, muttering to himself + over and over again as he walked: “I got to find Mr. Felix. I got to find + Mr. Felix.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIV + </h2> + <p> + Felix O'Day's runaway wife, despite the many quiet hours spent in Martha's + room, near St. Mark's Place, had not told her old nurse all her story. She + had wept her heart out on the dear woman's shoulder and had cuddled close + in her arms, giving her scraps and bits of her unfortunate history, with + side-lights here and there on a misery so abject and so terrifying that + the dear nurse had hugged the frail figure all the tighter, seeing only + the wound and knowing nothing of the steps that had led up to the final + blow or the anger that hastened it. + </p> + <p> + Martha had known, of course, that there had been bankruptcy and ruin; that + Oakdale, the ancestral estate of the O'Days—theirs for two + centuries, with all its priceless old furniture, tapestries, pictures, and + porcelains—had, after the owner's death, been sold at public + auction; that Fernlodge, Mr. Felix's own home, had gone in the same way; + that Lady Barbara, for some reason, had returned to her father, Lord + Carnavon; that the girl baby had died; and that “Mr. Felix,” as she always + called him, had gone to London where he had taken up his abode at his + club. Lady Barbara herself had given these details in a letter written a + couple of weeks after the death of the child, Martha being in Toronto at + the time. + </p> + <p> + Martha had also learned, through a letter from the head gardener's wife, + that after a few months' stay, Lady Barbara had left her father's house + because of a fierce scene with Lord Carnavon, who had sent for his + carriage, conducted her into it, and given directions to his coachman + either to set his daughter down on the main road, outside his gates, or to + take her to the nearest public house. + </p> + <p> + She had learned, too, that her former charge, after having eloped with + Dalton, had dropped entirely out of sight and, so far as her own knowledge + was concerned, had never come to light again until, with a cry of joy, + Lady Barbara sank sobbing on her shoulder in that Third Avenue car. + </p> + <p> + Much of this information had been gathered from newspaper clippings that + her old uncle, living in London, had mailed to her. More particulars had + come in a letter from James Muldoon, one of the grooms at Oakdale, who + gave a most pitiful and graphic account of the way the London dealers + crowded about the old porcelains in the ebony cabinets, and of the prices + paid by the Earl of Brinsmore, who bought most of the pictures, half of + the old Spanish furniture, as well as the largest but one of the great + tapestries, to enrich the new mansion he was then building in London and + in which James Muldoon was happy to say he had been promised a place. + </p> + <p> + In still other letters, open references had also been made to a much + discussed speculation, entangling many of those whom Martha had formerly + known, followed by a grand financial explosion in which some of the same + people had been badly injured. In connection with these disasters mention + was likewise made of a certain Mr. Dalton, who had disappeared shortly + after, leaving rather a bad name behind him, altogether undeserved, + according to many of the papers, he always having been a “financier of the + highest standing.” This last ball of gossip was rolled Martha's way by her + nephew, who was a clerk in a solicitor's office off the Strand and who had + mailed an editorial on the matter to his uncle, who promptly forwarded it + to Martha. She had read it carefully to the end and had put it in her + drawer without at first grasping the full meaning of the fact that, but + for the activities of this same Mr. Dalton, her dear mistress and her dear + mistress's husband, Felix O'Day, and her dear mistress's father-in-law, + the late Sir Carroll O'Day, would still be in possession of their + ancestral estates and in undisturbed enjoyment of whatever happiness they, + individually and collectively, could get out of life. + </p> + <p> + What the dear woman never knew, and it was just as well that she did not, + were the special happenings which ended in the overwhelming catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + It really began with a tea basket, holding enough for two, which was + opened one lovely afternoon under the big willows skirting that little + strip of land bordering the backwater at Cookham-on-Thames. My lady at the + time was wearing a wide leghorn hat with blue ribbons that matched her + eyes and set off the roses in her fair English cheeks. Her companion was + in white flannels—a muscular, well-set-up young man of thirty, + fifteen years younger than her husband and with twice his charm—one + of those delightful companions who possess the rare quality of making an + hour seem but five minutes. A gay party had dropped down the river in her + father's launch, which had been tied up at Ferry Inn, and Dalton had + insisted on taking my lady for just a half-hour's poling in a punt, Felix + and the others preferring to take their tea at the Inn—plans readily + agreed to and carried out, except that the half-hour prolonged itself into + two whole ones. + </p> + <p> + Then there had come a week-end at Glenmore Castle and a garden party + outside London, and then five-o'clock teas at half a dozen private houses, + including one or two meetings a trifle more secluded. And all quite as it + should be, for a most desirable and valuable guest was this same Mr. Guy + Dalton, a man received everywhere with open arms, as “one of the rising + men of the time, my dear sir,” a financier of distinction, indeed, and a + promoter of such skill that he had only to issue a prospectus, or wink + knowingly on the street, or take you aside at the club and whisper + confidentially to you, when everything he had issued, winked at, or + whispered about would go up with a rush, and countless men and women—a + goodly number were women—would be hundreds, nay, thousands of pounds + the richer before the week was out. + </p> + <p> + That his own buoyant imagination, as well as that of those who followed + his lead, should have been stretched to the utmost was quite within the + possibilities when one recollects that the basis of all this wealth was + crude rubber, a substance of pronounced elasticity. This, too, accounts + for the vim and suddenness of the final recoil attending the final + collapse—a recoil which smashed everything and everybody within its + reach. + </p> + <p> + There were “words,” of course, between Dalton and some of his victims. + There always are “words” when the ball bounces back and you catch it full + in the eye. And for salves and soothing plasters there were the customary + explanations regarding the state of the market, the tightness of money, + the non-arrival of important details, the delaying of despatches owing to + a break in the cable, together with offers of heavy discounts, and + increased allotments of stock for renewed subscriptions. But the end came, + just as it always does. + </p> + <p> + And so did the aftermath, as was shown by the advertisements in the + auction columns of the daily papers and the motley mob of hungry, + perspiring dealers, pawing over the household gods; and, more disastrous + still, because of its rarity, Felix's brave fight to save his father's + name, the whole struggle ending in his own ruin. + </p> + <p> + As for the very pretty young woman who had been wearing the hat with blue + ribbons, it may be as well to remark that when the milk in the heart of a + woman has become slightly curdled, it is to be expected that, under + certain exciting influences, the whole will turn sour. When to this + curdling process is added the loss of her child and her fortune, + calamities made all the more insupportable by reason of an interview + lasting an hour in which her two hot hands were held in those of a + sympathetic man of thirty, her cheeks within an inch of his lips, the + quickest—in fact, the only way—yes, really the only way, to + prevent any further calamity is to put your best gown in your best + dressing-case, catch up your jewels, and exchange your husband's roof for + that of your father's. And this is precisely what my lady did do, and + there in her father's house she stayed, despite the entreaties of her own + and her father's friends. + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” she had argued, with flashing eyes: “I am without a + shilling of my own, owing to the Quixotic ideas of my husband, who, + without thinking of me, has beggared himself to pay his father's debts. + And that, too, just when I need to be comforted most. He does not care how + I suffer; and now that my father has offered me a home, I will lead my own + life, surrounded by the few friends who have loved me for myself alone.” + </p> + <p> + That the eminent financier—it might be better perhaps to say the + LATE eminent financier—was one of those same unselfish beings who + had “loved her for herself alone,” and that he had, at once and without + the delay of an hour, flown to her side followed as a matter of course, as + did the gossip, men and women in and about the clubs and drawing-rooms + nodding meaningly or hinting behind their hands. + </p> + <p> + “Rather rough on O'Day,” the men had agreed. “That comes of marrying a + woman young enough to be your daughter.” “She ought to have known better,” + was the verdict of the women. “So many other ways of getting what you want + without making a scandal,” this from a duchess from behind her fan to a + divorcee. But few words of sympathy for the deserted husband escaped any + of them and, except from his old servants, Felix allowed himself to + receive none. + </p> + <p> + He had made no move to win her back. To him she was, at the worst, only + the same wilful and spoiled child she had always been, while he was over + twenty years her senior. What he hoped for was that her common sense, her + breeding, and her pride would come to the rescue, and that after her pique + had spent itself, she would become once more the loving wife. + </p> + <p> + And it is quite possible that this hope might have been realized had it + not been for one of those unfortunate and greatly to be regretted + concurrences which so often precede if they do not precipitate many of + life's catastrophes. + </p> + <p> + One of Lord Carnavon's grooms was the unfortunate match that caused this + explosion. He had been sent down to Dorsetshire for a horse and, in an + out-of-the-way inn in one corner of the county, had stumbled—early + the next morning—into a cosey little sitting-room. When he came to + his senses—he never recovered the whole of them until he was safe + once more inside his lordship's stables—he told, with bulging eyes + and bated breath, what he had seen. Whereupon the head coachman forthwith + informed his wife, who at once poured it into the ears of the housekeeper, + who, being jealous of my lady, fearing her dominance, lost no time in + amplifying the details to Lord Carnavon. That gentleman had walked his + library the rest of the night and, on my lady's return from Scotland, two + mornings later (she had “spent the night with her aunt”), had denounced + her in tones so shrill that every word was heard at the end of the long + gallery; the tirade, to his lordship's amazement, being cut short by his + daughter's defiant answer: “And why not, if I love him?” + </p> + <p> + All of which accounts for the infamous order roared five minutes later by + the distinguished nobleman to his coachman, who, having known her ladyship + from a child and loved her accordingly, had not set her down on the main + road, but had taken her to a cottage on an adjoining estate—her + second change of roofs—from whence Dalton carried her off next day + to Ostend, a refuge she had herself selected, the season there being then + at its height. + </p> + <p> + Had either of them kept a diary, it is safe to say that the delirious + hours which filled that first week at Ostend would have been checked off + in gold letters. Neither of them had ever been so blissfully happy, nor so + passionately enamoured of the other, nor so overjoyed that the dreary + past, with all its misunderstandings, calumnies, and injustice, had been + wiped out forever. + </p> + <p> + There had, of course, been a few colorless moments. On a certain Saturday, + for instance, the eminent ex-financier, having lost his head after the + manner of some born gamblers, had, at the Casino, played the wrong number—a + series of wrong numbers, in fact—an error which resulted in his + pushing a crisp bundle of Bank of England notes—almost all he had + with him—toward the spidery hands of a suave gentleman with rat eyes + and bloodless face, who gathered them up with a furtive, deadly smile. + </p> + <p> + The gold Letters might have been omitted here, and, in their stead, my + lady could have made a common pinhole to remind her, if she ever cared to + remember, that it was on that very night that her passionately enamoured + lover had helped her unfasten from her throat a string of pearls which + O'Day had given her, and which, strange to say, for a woman so injured, so + maligned, and so misunderstood, she, with Dalton's advice, had carried off + when she deserted both her husband and her husband's bed and board. And + she might have inserted just below the pinhole the illuminating note that, + after unfastening the string, Dalton had forgotten to return it. + </p> + <p> + And then there had come an August morning—the following Monday, to + be exact—when, his coffee untasted, he had sat staring at a + paragraph in the financial column of a London paper, not daring to lay it + down for fear she would pick it up. It gave a full and detailed account of + the discovery of a series of certificates bearing duplicate numbers, said + duplicates claiming to be the genuine shares of the Bawhadder Rubber Co., + Ltd. It also hinted at a searching investigation about to be made by a + financial committee of the highest standing at its next regular meeting, + but a few days off. More important still was a crisp editorial, charging + the directors of the aforesaid company, and particularly its promoter—name + withheld—with irregularities of the gravest import. + </p> + <p> + And it was on this same Monday morning—another pinhole, made with a + big black pin would serve best here—before the stone-cold coffee and + the dry, uneaten toast had been sent away, that there had arrived a most + important telegram (that is, Dalton had SAID it had arrived) ordering him + back to London on business of the UTMOST IMPORTANCE. So urgent were the + summons that he was forced to leave at once—so he explained to the + manager of the hotel—and as madame wished to avoid the night journey + by way of Ostend—the channel being almost always rough, even in + summer, and she easily disturbed—he had decided to take the shorter + and more comfortable route, and would the urbane and obliging gentleman + please secure two tickets to London by way of Calais and Dover? This would + give them a day in Paris at the house of a friend, and the next morning + would see them safely landed in London, in ample time for the business in + question. + </p> + <p> + The pins can be dispensed with now; so can the pencil and so can any + special entries. Henceforth life for these two exiles was to be one long + toboggan slide, with every post they passed marking a lower level. The + sled with its occupants made no stop at Paris nor did it go by way of + Calais nor did it reach Dover. It swooped on down to Havre, the steamer + sailing an hour after the train arrived, crossed the ocean at full speed, + and dumped its two passengers one hot August night in front of a cheap and + inconspicuous hotel on the East Side, New York, where Mr. and Mrs. + Stanton, from Toronto, Canada, would he at home, should anybody call—which, + it is quite safe to say, nobody ever did. + </p> + <p> + No, nothing of all this did the heart-broken woman tell the tender old + nurse, who had carried her in her arms many a night, and who was now + willing to sacrifice everything she possessed to give her mistress one + hour of peace. + </p> + <p> + Nor did she tell of the shock which she, a woman of quality, had received + when she entered the two cheaply furnished rooms, her only shelter for + months, and which, to a woman accustomed from babyhood to a luxurious home + and the care of attentive and loyal servants, had affected her more keenly + than anything that had yet happened. + </p> + <p> + Neither did she confide into the willing ears of the sympathetic woman the + details of her gradual awakening from Dalton's spell as his irritability, + cowardice, and selfishness became more and more apparent. Nor yet of her + growing anxiety as their resources declined; an anxiety which had so + weighed upon her mind that she could neither sleep nor rest, despite his + continued promises of daily remittances that never came and his + rose-colored schemes for raising money which never materialized. + </p> + <p> + Neither did she uncover the secret places of her own heart, and tell the + old nurse of the fight she had made in those earlier days when she had + faced the situation without flinching; nor of her stubborn determination + to still fight on to the end. She had even at one time sought to defend + him against herself. All men had their weaknesses, she had reasoned; Guy + had his. Moreover, the crash had been none of his doing. He had been + deceived by false reports instigated by his enemies, including her own + father-in-law and—yes, her husband as well, who could have avoided + the catastrophe had he followed Guy's advice, and persuaded Sir Carroll + O'Day to hold on to his shares. How, then, could she desert him, poor as + he was and with the world against him? She had been untrue to everything + else. Could she not redeem herself by being at least true to her sin? + </p> + <p> + What she did tell Martha, and there was the old ring in her voice as she + spoke, was of her refusal to yield to Dalton's presistent entreaties to + write to her father for sufficient money to start him in a new enterprise + which, with “even his limited means”—thus ran the letter she was to + copy and sign—“was already exceeding his most sanguine expectations, + and which, with a few thousand pounds of additional capital, would yield + enormous returns.” And she might have added that so emphatic had been her + refusal that, for the first time in all their intercourse, Dalton's eyes + had been opened to something he had never realized in her before, the + quality of the blood that runs in some Englishwomen's veins—this + time the blood of the Carnavons, who for two centuries had been noted for + their indomitable will. + </p> + <p> + Her defiance had seemed all the more remarkable to him because as he well + knew their combined resources were dwindling. She had, in fact, only a few + finger-rings left, together with some cheap trinkets; among them a pair of + sleeve-buttons then in her cuff's, a pair which she had given Felix and + which she found in her jewel-box the day after she left him, and which she + had determined to return until she realized how small was their value. + </p> + <p> + The rest of her sad story came by fits and starts. + </p> + <p> + With her head on Martha's shoulder she told of the horror of that rainy + April night when, with agonized hands against her hot cheeks, she had + heard him stumbling up the narrow stairs staggering drunk, lunging through + the door, and falling headlong at her feet. Of the deadly fear born in + her, for the first time in her life, she, helpless and alone, without a + human being to whom she could appeal, not daring to disclose her own + identity lest graver results might follow; he, prostrate before her, naked + to his inmost bone, with all his perfidy exposed. Of his cursing her + conscientious scruples and family pride, her milk-and-water principles, + demanding again that she should write her father and that very night, + ending his entreaties with a blow of his fiat hand on her cheek which sent + her reeling toward her narrow bed. + </p> + <p> + She had watched her chance, caught up her hat and cloak, and had slipped + down-stairs, avoiding the crowd about the side-door, and had then fled as + if for her life, to be found an hour later by an expressman's wife, who + had put her to bed with a kindness and tenderness she had not known since + she left her husband's roof. + </p> + <p> + Then there had followed a long, weary day's search for work, ending at + last in defeat when, disheartened and footsore, she had dragged herself + once more up the hotel stairs, with another tightening of her resolution + to fight it out to the end. + </p> + <p> + Greatly to her surprise, Dalton had received her with marked politeness. + He had begged her forgiveness, pleading that his nerves had been upset by + his financial troubles. With his arm around her, he had told her how young + and pretty she still was, and how sad it made him when he thought he had + ruined her life and brought her all these weary miles from home, his + contrition being apparently so genuine, that she had determined to trust + him once more, and would have told him so had she not gone into her room + to change her dress, only to find that he had pawned the few remaining + trinkets and articles of wearing-apparel she possessed, in order to try + his luck in a neighboring pool-room. + </p> + <p> + She had realized, then, where she stood. There was but one thing for her + to do and that was to hunt again for work. She had been an expert + needlewoman in her better days and this knowledge might earn her their + board. + </p> + <p> + With this in her mind, she had consulted a woman, living on the floor + above, who had often spoken to her when they passed each other on the + stairs, and who was employed in a department store on 14th Street near + Broadway, the result being that Stiger & Company had given “Mrs. + Stanton” a place in the repair shop, her wages being equal to her own and + Dalton's board. This had continued all through the summer, her earnings + keeping the roof over their heads, Dalton leaving her for days at a time, + his invariable excuse for his absence being that he was “trying to get + employment.” + </p> + <p> + Finally—and again her eyes burned, and the color mounted to her hot + cheeks as she reached this part of her story—there had come that + last awful, unforgettable December night. + </p> + <p> + She had come home from work and had put on a thin silk wrapper, too well + worn for pawning, when the door of their little sitting-room was opened + and Dalton entered, bringing two men with him. One of them kept his hat on + as he talked, the other slouched his from his head after he had taken a + seat and had had a chance to look her over. The three had come upon her + suddenly, and she, realizing her dishabille, had risen hastily, excusing + herself, when Dalton, who was half tipsy, stepped between her and her + bedroom door. + </p> + <p> + “No, you'll stay here,” he had cried; “you're prettier as you are. I never + saw you so fetching. Don't mind them, they're friends of mine. We've + ordered up something to drink.” + </p> + <p> + She had stood trembling, looking from one to the other, her heart + hammering wildly. No man had ever addressed her with such insolence and + before such company. What she feared was that something would snap in her + and she fall fainting to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I will change my dress,” she had answered firmly, speaking slowly to hide + her terror. She was Lord Carnavon's daughter now. + </p> + <p> + “No, I tell you, Barbara—I—” + </p> + <p> + There was something in her eyes that told him he had reached the limit of + her forbearance. Beyond that there was danger. + </p> + <p> + She had glided past him, shut and locked her bedroom door, struggled with + bungling fingers into her walking-dress, pinned on her hat, thrown an old + silk waterproof around her shoulders, had slid back the bolt of her + chamber opening into the hall, crept down the steps, and fled. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later Martha's arms were about her, and she sobbing on her old + nurse's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XV + </h2> + <p> + The day following Stephen's visit was one of many spent by Lady Barbara in + working at “home,” as she called the simple apartment in which Martha had + given her shelter. + </p> + <p> + With the aid of a shop-girl whose mother Martha had known, she had found + employment at Rosenthal's, on upper Third Avenue. There had been need of + an expert needlewoman in a department recently opened, and Mangan, in + charge of the work, had taken her name and address. The repairing of rare + laces had been one of her triumphs when a girl, she having placed an inset + in the middle of an old piece of Valenciennes which had deceived even the + experts at Kensington Museum. And so, when one of Rosenthal's agents had + looked up her lodgings, had seen Martha, and noted “Mrs. Stanton's” quiet + refinement, he had at once given her the place. She had retained, with + Martha's advice, the name that Dalton had assumed for her on her arrival + in New York, and Rosenthal's pay-roll and messengers knew her by no other. + </p> + <p> + These days at home bad been gradually extended, her employer finding that + she could work there more satisfactorily, and of late the greater part of + each week had been spent in the small suite of rooms in St. Mark's Place—much + to Martha's delight, who had arranged her own duties so as to be with her + mistress. The good woman had long since given up night-nursing, and the + few patrons dependent upon her during the day had had to be content with + an “exchange,” which she generally managed to obtain, there being one or + two of the fraternity on whom she could call. + </p> + <p> + And these days, in spite of the sorrow hovering over her charge, Martha + never found wholly unhappy. They constantly reminded her of the good times + at Oakdale when she used to bring in her young mistress's breakfast. She + could recall the dainty, white egg-shell china, the squat silver service + bearing the Carnavon arms, and the film of lace which she used to throw + around her ladyship's shoulders, lifting her hair to give it room. The + butler would bring the tray to the door, and Martha would carry it herself + to the bedside, where she would be met with the cry, “Must I get up?” or + the more soothing greeting of, “Oh, you good Martha—well, give me my + wrapper!” + </p> + <p> + The delicate porcelain and heirloom silver were missing now, and so was + the filmy lace, but the tired mistress, could sleep as long as she + pleased, thank Heaven! and the same loving care be given her. And the meal + could be as nicely served, even though the thick cup cost but a penny and + the tea was poured from an earthen pot kept hot on the stove. + </p> + <p> + Martha's deft hands relieved her mistress, too, of many other little + necessary duties, such as the repair of her clothes; having them carefully + laid out for the morning so that the nap might be prolonged and time be + given for the care of the beautiful hair and frail hands; helping her + dress; serving her breakfast, and getting her ready for the day's work. + These services over, Martha would move the small pine table close to the + sill of the window, where the light was better, spread a clean white towel + over its top, and sit beside her while she sewed. + </p> + <p> + This restful, almost happy, life had been rudely shaken, if not entirely + wrecked, by Stephen's visit. Up to that time, Lady Barbara—who had + been nearly three weeks with Martha—had not only delighted in her + work, but had shown an enviable pride in keeping pace with her employer's + engagements, often working rather late into the night to finish her + allotment on time. + </p> + <p> + The particular work uppermost in her mind on the night Stephen had called + was the repairing of a costly Spanish mantilla which had been picked up in + Spain by one of Rosenthal's customers. Through the carelessness of a + packer, it had been badly slashed near the centre—an ugly, ragged + tear which only the most skilful of needles could restore. Mangan, some + days before, had given it to her to repair with special instructions to + return it at a given time, when he had agreed to deliver it to its owner. + It was with a sudden gripping of her heart, therefore, that Martha on her + return from an errand at noon had found the mantilla, promised for that + very afternoon at three o'clock, lying neglected on the table, Lady + Barbara sitting by the window with listless hands and drooping head. She + grew still more anxious when at the appointed hour Rosenthal's messenger + rapped at the door and stood silently waiting, his presence voicing the + purpose of his mission, and she heard her mistress say, without an attempt + at explanation: “I am sorry, tell Mr. Mangan, but the Spanish mantilla is + not finished. Some of the other pieces are ready, but you need not wait. I + cannot stop now, even to do them up properly, but I will bring the + mantilla myself to-morrow. Please say so to Mr. Mangan.” + </p> + <p> + The extreme lassitude of her manner only added to Martha's anxiety and, as + the afternoon wore on, she watched Lady Barbara's every move with + ever-increasing alarm. Now and then her poor mistress would drop her + needle, turn her face to the window, and look out into vacancy, her mouth + quivering as if with some inward thought which she had neither the will + nor the desire to voice aloud. + </p> + <p> + As the hours lengthened, this mental absorption and growing physical + weariness were followed by a certain nervous tension, so pronounced that + the nurse, accustomed to various forms of feminine breakdowns, had already + determined what remedies to use should the symptoms increase. + </p> + <p> + That Stephen's visit was responsible for this condition, she now no longer + doubted. What she had intended as a relief had only complicated the + situation. And yet in going over all that had happened and all that was + likely to happen, she became more than ever convinced that either his + visit must be repeated, or that she alone must make the announcement that + had trembled on Stephen's lips. She had recognized, almost from the first, + that despite the relief her mistress had enjoyed in the little apartment + some strong, masculine hand and mind were needed to stem the tide of + further disaster. Her own practical common sense also told her that their + present way of living was far too precarious to be counted upon. Lady + Barbara's position with Rosenthal was but temporary. At any moment it + might be lost, and then would follow another dreary hunt for work, with + all its rebuffs, and sooner or later the delicately nurtured woman would + succumb and go under in a mental or physical collapse, the hospital her + only alternative. + </p> + <p> + None of these forebodings, it must be said, had filled Lady Barbara's + mind. As long as she continued under Martha's care she could rest in + peace, free from the dread of the drunken step on the stair or the rude + bursting in of her chamber door. Free, too, from other deadly terrors + which had pursued her, and of which she could not even think without a + shudder, for try as she could she never forgot Dalton's willingness to + turn their home into a gamblers' resort. + </p> + <p> + That he would force her to return to him for any other purpose she did not + believe. He had no legal hold upon her—such as an Englishman has + upon his wife—and, as he had pawned everything of value she + possessed and most of her clothes, she could be of no further use to him, + except by applying to her father or to her friends for pecuniary relief. + This, as she had told him, she would rather die than do, and from the + oaths he had muttered at the time she was convinced he believed her. + </p> + <p> + All she wanted now was to earn her bread, help Martha with her rent, and, + when the day's work was over, creep into her arms and rest. + </p> + <p> + And yet, while it was true that Stephen's visit had been responsible for + her nervous breakdown, it was not for the reason that Martha supposed. His + reference to her private affairs had of course offended her, and justly + so, but there was something else which hurt her far more—a something + in the old ship-chandler's manner when he spoke to her which forced to the + front a question ever present in her mind, whatever her task and however + tender the ministrations of the old nurse; one that during all her sojourn + under this kindly roof had haunted her, like a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + And it was this. What did the look mean that she sometimes surprised in + Martha's eyes—the same look she had detected in Stephen's? Were they + looks of pity or were they—and she shuddered—looks of scorn? + This was the nightmare which had haunted her, the problem she could not + fathom. + </p> + <p> + And because she could not fathom it, she had passed a wakeful night, and + this long, unhappy day. This mystery must end, and that very night. + </p> + <p> + When the shadows fell and the evening meal was ready, she put away her + work, smoothed her hair and took her seat beside the nurse, eating little + and answering Martha's anxious, but carefully worded questions in + monosyllables. With the end of the meal, she pushed back her chair and + sought her bedroom, saying that, if Martha did not mind, she would throw + herself on her bed and rest awhile. + </p> + <p> + She lay there listening until the last clink of the plates and cups and + the moving of the table told her that the evening's work was done and the + things put away; then she called: + </p> + <p> + “Martha, won't you come and sit beside me, so that you can brush out my + hair? I want to talk to you. You need not bring the lamp, I have light + enough.” + </p> + <p> + Martha hurried in and settled herself beside the narrow bed. Lady Barbara + lifted her head so that the tresses were free for Martha's hands, and + sinking back on the pillow said almost in a whisper: “I have been thinking + of your brother, and want your help. What did he mean when he said that + things could not go on as they were with me? And that he was going to put + a stop to them if he could?” + </p> + <p> + Martha caught herself just in time. She was not ready yet to divulge her + plans for her mistress's relief, and the question had taken her unawares. + “He never forgets, my lady, what he owes your people,” she answered at + last. “And when he saw you, he was so sorry for you he was all shrivelled + up.” + </p> + <p> + She had the mass of blonde hair in her fingers now, the comb in hand + prepared to straighten out the tangle. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Lady Barbara lay still, then turning her cheek, her eyes + fixed on Martha's, she said in firmer tones: “You are to tell me the + truth, you know; that is why I sent for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have told it, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are keeping nothing back?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The thin hand crept out and grasped the nurse's wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are sure your brother does not despise me, Martha?” + </p> + <p> + “MY LADY! How can you say such a thing!” exclaimed Martha, dropping the + comb. + </p> + <p> + “Well, everybody else does—everybody I know—and a great many I + never saw and who never saw me. And now about yourself—and you must + tell me frankly—do you hate me, Martha?” + </p> + <p> + “Hate you, you poor Lamb”—tears were now choking her—“you, + whom I held in my arms?—Oh, don't talk that way to me—I can't + stand it, my lady! Ever since you were a child, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Martha, that is one reason for my asking you. You did love me as a + child—but do you love me as a woman? A child is forgiven because it + knows no better; a woman DOES know. Tell me, straight from your heart; I + want to know; it will not make any difference in the way I love you. You + have been everything to me, father, mother—everything, Martha. Tell + me, do you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to forgive, my lady,” she answered, her voice clearing, + her will asserting itself. “You have always been my lady and you always + will be. Maybe you'd better not talk any more—you are all tired out, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I will talk and you must Listen. Don't pick up my comb. Never + mind about my hair now. I know very well that there is not a single human + being at home who would not shut the door in my face. Some of them do not + understand, and never will, and I should never try to explain my life to + them. I have suffered for my mistakes and made myself an outcast, and + nobody has any compassion for an outcast. That is why I sit and wonder + about Stephen, and why I have sat all day and wondered about you, and + whether I ought to run away, for I could not stay here if you felt about + me as I know those people feel at home. I want you to love me, Martha. Oh! + yes, you prove it. You do everything for me, but way down deep in your + heart, how do you feel? Do you love me as you always did?—LOVE, + Martha, not just pity, or feeling sorry like Stephen, or blaming me like + the others? Yes, yes, yes, I know it, but I have wanted you to tell me. I + am so in the dark. There, there, don't cry! Just one thing more. What did + your brother mean when he said there were others who would lift me out of + my misery?” + </p> + <p> + Again the old servant, brushing away her tears, hesitated to reply. She + had sent for Stephen to answer this very question, and her mistress had + practically driven him from the room. How, then, was she to meet it? + </p> + <p> + “He meant Mr. Felix, and if you had only listened, my lady, he would have—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I knew he did—although he did not dare say it,” she cried with + sudden intensity, sinking deeper back in her pillow as if to protect + herself even from Martha. “I did not listen, for I never want to hear his + name again. He drove me to what I did. He let me leave his house without + so much as a word of regret, and not one line did he write me the whole + time I was at my father's. Two months, Martha! TWO—WHOLE—MONTHS!” + The words seemed to clog in her throat. “All that time he hid himself in + his club, abusing me to every man he met. Somebody told me so. What was I + to do? He had turned over to his father every shilling he possessed and + left me without a penny—or, worse still, dependent on my father, and + you know what that means! And then, when I could stand it no longer and + went home, he sailed for South Africa on a shooting expedition.” + </p> + <p> + Martha listened patiently. The outburst was not what she had expected, but + she knew the unburdening would help in the end. She slid one plump hand + under the tired head, and with the other stroked back the mass of hair + from the damp forehead—very gently, as she might have calmed some + fevered patient. + </p> + <p> + “May I finish what Stephen tried to tell you, my lady?” she crooned, still + stroking back the hair. “And may I first tell you that Mr. Felix never + went to Africa?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but he did!” she cried out again. “I know the men he went with. He + was disgusted with the whole business—so he told one of his friends—and + never wanted to see me or England again.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I heard about it in Ostend when—” She did not finish the + sentence. + </p> + <p> + The nurse's free hand now closed on Lady Barbara's thin fingers, with a + quiet, compelling softness, as if preparing her for a shock. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Felix—came here—to New York—my lady—and is + here now—or was some weeks ago—doing nothing but walk the + streets.” The words had come one by one, Martha's clasp tightening as she + spoke. + </p> + <p> + The wasted figure lifted itself from the pillow and sat bolt upright. + </p> + <p> + “MARTHA! What do you mean!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, right here in New York, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't so!” Her hands were now clutching Martha's shoulders. “Tell me + it isn't so! It can't be so!” + </p> + <p> + “It's the blessed God's truth, every word of it! He and Stephen have been + looking for you day and night.” + </p> + <p> + “Looking for me? Me! Oh, the shame of it, the shame!” Then with sudden + fright: “But he must not find me! He shall not find me! You won't let him + find me, will you, Martha?” Her arms were now tight about the old woman's + neck, her agonized face turning wildly toward the door, as if she thought + that Felix were already there. “You don't think he wants to kill me, do + you?” she whispered at last, her face hidden in the nurse's neck. + </p> + <p> + Martha folded her own strong arms about the shaking woman, warming and + comforting her, as she had warmed and comforted the child. She would go + through with it now to the end. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not you he wants to kill,” she said firmly, when the trembling + figure was still. + </p> + <p> + Lady Barbara loosened her grasp and stared at her companion. “Then what + does he want to see me for?” she asked, in a dazed, distracted tone. + </p> + <p> + “He wants to help you. He never forgets that you were his wife. He'll have + his arms around you the moment he gets his eyes on you, and all your + troubles will be over.” + </p> + <p> + “But I do not want his help and I won't accept his help,” she exclaimed, + drawing herself up. “And I won't see him if he comes! You must not let me + see him! Promise me you won't! And he must not find”—she hesitated + as if unwilling to pronounce the name—“he must not find Mr. Dalton. + There has been scandal enough. You do not think he wants to find Mr. + Dalton, too, do you, Martha?” she added slowly, as if some new terror were + growing on her. + </p> + <p> + “That's what Stephen thinks—find him and kill him. That's why he + wanted you to listen last night. That's why he wants to get you and Mr. + Felix together. Mr. Dalton won't stay here if he knows Mr. Felix is + looking for him. He's too big a coward.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Barbara shivered, drew her gown closer, and sank to the bed again, + gazing straight before her. “Yes, that is what will happen, Martha—he + would kill him. I see it all now. That is what would have happened to our + gardener who ruined the gatekeeper's daughter, if the man had not left + England. She was only a girl—hardly grown; yes, it all comes back to + me. I remember what my husband did.” She was still speaking under her + breath, reciting the story more to herself than to Martha, her voice + rising and falling, at times hardly audible. “Nothing—happened then—because + my husband—did not find the man.” + </p> + <p> + She faced the nurse again. “You won't let him come here, will you, + Martha?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll come, my lady, if Stephen can get hold of him,” came the positive + reply. “He had a room in a lodging-house not far from here, but he left + it, and Stephen doesn't know where he's gone. But he'll turn up again down + at the shop, and then—” + </p> + <p> + “But you must not let him come,” she burst out. + </p> + <p> + Again she sat upright. “I won't have it—please—PLEASE! I will + go away if you do, where nobody will ever find me. I could not have him + see me—see me like this.” She looked at her thin hands and over her + shabby gown. “Not like THIS!” + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't go away, my lady.” There was a ring of authority now in the + nurse's voice. “You'll stay here. It's the only way out of this misery for + you. As for Mr. Felix and that scoundrel who has ruined you, Mr. Felix + will take care of him. But I'm going to let Mr. Felix in, if the dear Lord + will let him come. Mr. Felix loves you and—” + </p> + <p> + Her body stiffened. “He never loved me. He only loved his father,” she + cried angrily, and again she sank back on her pillow. “All my misery came + from that.” + </p> + <p> + Martha bent closer. “You never got that right, my lady,” she returned + firmly. “You mustn't get angry with me, for I got to let it all out.” She + was the nurse no longer; no matter what happened, she would unburden her + heart. “Mr. Felix isn't like other men. He stood by his father and helped + him when he was in trouble, just as he'll stand by and help you, just as + he helps everybody—Tom Moulton's daughter for one, that he picked up + on the streets of London and sent home to her mother. If he'd killed Sam + Lawson, who ruined her, he'd have given him what he deserved; and if he + kills this man Dalton, he won't give him half what he deserves or what's + coming to him sooner or later. Dalton isn't fit to live. He got Sir + Carroll O'Day all tangled up so that his character and all his money was + hanging by a thread, and then, when Mr. Felix gave up what he had to save + Sir Carroll, Dalton coaxed you away. You didn't know that, did you? But + it's true. That man Dalton ruined Mr. Felix's father. Oh, I know it all—and + I have known it for a long time. Stephen told me all about it. No, don't + stop me, my lady! I'm your old Martha, who's nursed you and sat by you + many a night, and I'll never stop loving you as long as I live. I don't + care what you do to me or what you have done to yourself. Your leaving Mr. + Felix was like a good many other things you used to do when you were + crossed. You would have your way, just as your father will have his way, + no matter who is hurt. What Lord Carnavon wants, he wants, and there is no + stopping him. Anybody else but his lordship would have hushed the matter + up, instead of ruining everybody. But that's all past now; I don't love + you any less for it; I'm only sorrier and sorrier for you every time I + think of it. Now we've got to make another start. Stephen'll help and I'll + work my fingers to the bone for you—and Mr. Felix'll help most of + all.” + </p> + <p> + Except for the gesture of surprise when Dalton's part in the ruin of her + husband's father was mentioned, Lady Barbara had listened to the + breathless outburst without moving her head. Even when the words cut + deepest she had made no protest. She knew the nurse's heart, and that + every word was meant for her good. Her utter helplessness, too, confronted + her, surrounded as she was by conditions she could neither withstand nor + evade. + </p> + <p> + “And if he comes, Martha,” she asked in a low, resigned voice, “what will + happen then?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll get you out of this—take you where you needn't work the soul + out of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pay for my support, you mean?” she asked, with a certain dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Of course; why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Never—NEVER! I will never touch a penny of his money—I would + rather starve than do it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it wouldn't be much—he's as poor as any of us. When Stephen saw + him last, all he had was a rubber coat to keep him warm. But little as he + has you'll get half or all of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor as—any of us! Oh, my God, Martha!” she groaned, covering her + face with her hands. “I never thought it would come to that—I never + thought he could be poor! I never thought he would suffer in that way. And + it is my fault, Martha—all of it! You must not think I do not see + it! Every word you say is true—and every one else knows that it is + true. It was all vanity and selfishness and stubbornness, never caring + whom I hurt, so that I had the things I wanted. I put the blame on my + husband a while ago because I did not want you to hate me too much. All + the women who do wrong talk that way, hoping for some comforting word in + their misery. But it is I who am to blame, not he. I talk that way to + myself in the night when I lie awake until I nearly lose my mind. + Sometimes, too, I try to cheat myself by thinking that all these terrible + things might not have happened had God not taken my baby. But I don't + know. They might have happened just the same, my head was so full of all + that was wicked. When I think of that, I am glad the baby died. It could + never have called me mother. Oh, Martha, Martha, take me in your arms + again—yes, like that—close against your breast! Kiss me, + Martha, as you used to do when I was little! You do love me, don't you? + And you will promise not to let my husband see me? And now go away, + please, and leave me alone. I cannot stand any more.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVI + </h2> + <p> + The talk with Father Cruse, while it had calmed and, to a certain extent, + reassured Felix, had not in any way swerved him from his determination to + find his wife at any cost. + </p> + <p> + The only change he made in his plans was one of locality. Heretofore, with + the exception of his visits to Stephen—long since discontinued now + that he feared she was an outcast—he had mingled with the throngs + crowding the Great White Way ablaze with light or had haunted the doors of + the popular theatres and expensive restaurants, and the waiting-rooms of + the more fashionable hotels. After this it must be the byways, places + where the poor or worse would congregate: cheap eating-houses; barrooms, + with so-called “family rooms” attached; and always the streets at a + distance from those trodden by the rich and prosperous classes. Father + Cruse might have been right in his diagnosis, and the sleeve-button might + form but a minor link in the chain of events circling the problem to the + solution of which he had again consecrated his life, but certain it was + that the clew Kitty had discovered had only strengthened his own + convictions. If the woman whom Kitty had picked up some months before, and + put to bed, were not his wife, she must certainly have been near her + person; which still meant not only poverty but the possibility of Dalton's + having abandoned her. Possibly, too, this woman, whose outside garments + had contrasted so strangely with her more sumptuous underwear, might have + been an inmate of the same house in which his wife was living—some + one, perhaps, in whom his wife had had confidence. Perhaps—no! That + was impossible. Whatever the depths of suffering into which his wife had + fallen, she had not yet reached the pit—of that he was convinced. If + he were mistaken—at the thought his fingers tightened, and his heavy + eyebrows and thin, drawn lips became two parallel straight lines—then + he would know exactly what to do. + </p> + <p> + These convictions filled his mind when, having bid good-by to Kitty—who + knew nothing of his interview with the priest—he buttoned his + mackintosh close up to his throat, tucked his blackthorn stick under his + arm, and, pressing his hat well on his head, bent his steps toward the + East Side. A light rain was falling and most of the passers-by were + carrying umbrellas. Overhead thundered the trains of the Elevated—a + continuous line of lights flashing through the clouds of mist. Underneath + stretched Third Avenue, its perspective dimmed in a slowly gathering fog. + </p> + <p> + As he tramped on, the brim of his soft hat shadowing his brow, he scanned + without ceasing the faces of those he passed: the men with collars turned + up, the women under the umbrellas—especially those with small feet. + At 28th Street he entered a cheap restaurant, its bill of fare, written on + a pasteboard card and tacked on the outside, indicating the modest prices + of the several viands. + </p> + <p> + He had had no particular reason for selecting this eating-house from among + the others. He had passed several just like it, and was only accustoming + himself to his new line of search; for that purpose, one eating-house was + as good as another. + </p> + <p> + Drawing out a chair from a table, he sat down and ran his eye over the + interior. + </p> + <p> + What he saw was a collection of small tables, flanked by wooden chairs, + their tops covered with white cloths and surmounted by cheap casters, a + long bar with the usual glistening accessories, and a flight of steps + which led to the floor above. His entrance, quiet as it had been, had + evidently attracted some attention, for a waiter in a once-white apron + detached himself from a group of men in the far corner of the room and, + picking up, as he passed, a printed card from a table, asked him what he + would have to eat. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—not now. I will sit here and smoke.” He loosened his + mackintosh and drew his pipe from his pocket, adding: “Hand me a match, + please.” + </p> + <p> + The waiter looked at him dubiously. “Ain't you goin' to order nothin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet—perhaps not at all. Do you object to my smoking here?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't object to nothin', but this ain't no place to warm up in, see!” + </p> + <p> + Felix looked at him, and a faint smile played about his lips—the + first that had lightened them all day. “I shan't ask you to start a fresh + fire,” he said in a decided tone; “and now, do as I bid you, and pass me + that box of matches.” + </p> + <p> + The man caught the tone and expression, placed the box beside him, and + joined the group in the rear. There was a whispered conference, and a + stout man wearing a dingy jacket disengaged himself from the others and + lounged toward Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Nasty night,” he began. “Had a lot of this weather this month. Never see + a December like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a bad night. Your servant seemed to think I was in the way. Are you + the proprietor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am one of them. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—only I hoped to find you more hospitable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, smoke away—guess we can stand it, if you can. Dinner's over”—he + looked at the big clock decorating the white wall—“but they'll be + piling in here after the theatres is out. You live around here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Looking for any one?” + </p> + <p> + Felix gave a slight start and, from under his narrowed lids, shot one of + his bull's-eye flashes. + </p> + <p> + The man caught the flash and, misinterpreting it, bent down and said in a + hoarse whisper: “Come from the central office, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Felix took a long puff at his pipe. “No, I am only a very tired man who + has come in out of the wet to rest and smoke,” he answered, with a dry + smile, “but if it will add to your comfort and improve your hospitality in + any way, you can send your waiter back here and I will order something to + eat.” + </p> + <p> + The stout man laid his hand confidently on Felix's shoulder. “That's all + right, pard—I ain't worryin', and don't you. There's nothin' doin', + and I'm a-givin' it to you straight.” + </p> + <p> + Felix nodded in dismissal, rested his elbows on the table, and again + puffed away at his brierwood. Being mistaken for a central office + detective might or might not be of assistance. At present, he would let + matters stand. + </p> + <p> + As he smoked on, the room, which had been almost entirely empty of + customers, began filling up. A reporter bustled in, ordered a cup of + coffee, and, clearing away the plates and casters, squared his elbows and + attacked a roll of paper. Two belated shop-girls entered laughing, hung + their wet waterproofs on a hook behind their chairs, and were soon lost in + the intricacies of the printed menu. Groups of three and four passed him, + beating the rain from their hats and cloaks, the women stamping their wet + feet. + </p> + <p> + The sudden influx from the outside, bringing in the wet and mud of the + streets, had started innumerable puddles over the clean, sanded floor. The + man wearing the dingy white jacket craned his head, noticed the widening + pools, opened a door behind the bar leading to the cellar below, and + shouted down, in a coarse voice, “Here, Stuffy, git busy—everything + slopped up,” and resumed his place beside the group of men, their talk + still centred on the stranger in the mackintosh, who could be seen + scrutinizing each new arrival. + </p> + <p> + Something in the poise and dignity of the object of their attention as he + sat quietly, paper in hand, a curl of blue smoke mounting ceilingward from + his pipe, must also have impressed the newcomers, for no one of them drew + out any of the empty chairs immediately beside him, although the room was + now comparatively crowded. Finally, the man who answered to the name of + “Stuffy” appeared from the direction of the group near the bar, and made + his way toward Felix. He carried a broom and a bucket, from which trailed + a mop used for swabbing wet floors. When he reached O'Day's table, he + dropped to his knees and attacked a sluiceway leading to a miniature lake, + fed by the umbrellas and waterproofs belonging to the two girls opposite. + </p> + <p> + “Got to ask ye to move a little, sir,” he said in apology. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on,” replied Felix, in considerate tones, “I will stand up and you + can get at it better. Bad night for everybody.” He was on his feet now, + his long mackintosh hanging straight, his hat still on his head, and in + his hand the blackthorn stick, which he had picked up from beside the + table as he rose. + </p> + <p> + The man stared at the mackintosh, the hat, and the cane, and sprang to his + feet. “I know ye!” he cried excitedly. “Do you know me?” + </p> + <p> + Felix studied him closely. “I do not think I do,” he answered, frowning + slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ye ought to. I ain't never forgot ye, and I never will. You give me + a meal once and a dollar to keep me going.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day's brow relaxed. “Yes, now I do. You are the man whose wife left him, + and who tried to steal my watch.” + </p> + <p> + “That's it—you got it. You didn't give me away. Say, I been straight + ever since. It's been tough, but I kep' on—I work here three nights + in the week and I got another job in a joint on Second Avenue. Say—” + he added, glancing furtively over his shoulder. Then finding his + suspicions confirmed, and the attention of the group fastened on him, he + began to push the broom vigorously, muttering in jerks to Felix: “This + ain't no place for ye—git into trouble sure—what yer doin' + here?—They're onto ye, or the bunch wouldn't have their heads + together—don't make no difference who's here, everybody gits pinched—I + can't talk—they'll git wise and fire me.” + </p> + <p> + Felix's lip curled and an amused expression drifted over his face. His + jaws set, the muscles forming little ridges about his ears. + </p> + <p> + “I will attend to that later,” he said, in a firm voice. “Keep on with + your work.” + </p> + <p> + He shook the ashes from his pipe, resumed his seat, and leaned carelessly + forward with his elbows on his thighs, his former protege, now deep in his + work, squeezing the wet rag into the bucket, and using the broom where the + mud was thickest. When the swabbing-up process brought the man within + speaking distance again Felix leaned still further forward and asked: + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a place is this—a restaurant?” + </p> + <p> + The man turned his head. He was again on his knees, and had drawn nearer. + He was now wiping the same spot so as to be within reach of Felix's ear. + </p> + <p> + “Downstairs—yes,” he returned in a low voice. “Upstairs—in the + rear—across a roof—” He glanced again at the group and + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “A gambling house?” + </p> + <p> + “No—a pool-room. That's why I give ye the tip.” + </p> + <p> + Felix ruminated, the man polishing vigorously. “What kind of people come + here?” + </p> + <p> + “The kind ye see—and crooks.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know them all?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I been workin' here two months. Had two raids—that's why I + posted ye. It's the chop-house game now, with a new deal all around, but + they're onto it—so a pal of mine tells me.” + </p> + <p> + Again Felix ruminated. “Women ever come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, up to ten o'clock or so—telephone operators, shop-girls—that + kind. Two of 'em are over there now; they work in Cryder's store Christmas + and New Year's, and they get taken on extra.” + </p> + <p> + “Any others?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean fancies?” + </p> + <p> + “No—straight, decent women, who may live around here and who come + regularly in for their meals.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—but they don't stay long. And then”—he nodded toward + the group—“they don't want 'em to stay—no money in grub. Just + a bluff they've put up.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you come across your wife since I saw you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, and don't want to. I've got all over that. A man's a damn fool to get + crazy over a woman, and a bigger damn fool to keep worryin' when she goes + back on him. They ain't wuth it, none on 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of the man she went off with?” + </p> + <p> + “Got tired and chucked her, after he made a tank of her. That's what they + all do.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever tried to find her?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “You might do her some good.” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out! Nuthin' doin'! She was rotten when she left me, and she's + rotten now. Bums round a Raines joint over here on Twenty-eighth Street. + Pick up anybody. Came staggerin' into the church full of booze, so a pal + o' mine told me, and got half-way down the aisle before they could fire + her. Drop in there sometime when you go by and ask the sexton if I'm + a-lyin'. No more of that for me, I'm through. There ain't but one place + for that kind, and that's Blackwell's Island, and that's where they fetch + up. I went through hell afore I saw you because of her, and I'm just + pullin' out and I want to stay out.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his head, glanced furtively again at the group by the bar, and + in a low whisper muttered: + </p> + <p> + “I've got to go now. They'll get onto me next.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind those men. They cannot harm you,” Felix answered, and was + about to add some word of sympathy, when he checked himself. It would only + hurt him the more, he thought. He said instead, his voice conveying what + his lips would have uttered: + </p> + <p> + “Do you like it here?” + </p> + <p> + “Got to.” + </p> + <p> + Felix pushed back his chair, stood erect, and with a gesture as if his + mind had been made up said: “Would you care to do something else?” + </p> + <p> + The man dropped his broom and straggled to his feet. “Can ye give me + somethin'? I been a-tryin' everywhere, but this kind o' work hoodoos a + man, and they won't give me no ref'rence 'cause I don't git more'n my + board and they don't want to lose me. And then”—here he winked + meaningly—“I know a thing or two. But, say, do ye mean it? I'll go + anywhere you want.” + </p> + <p> + Felix felt in his pocket, drew out a card, and pencilled his address. + “Come some night—say about eight o'clock. It's not far from here. I + am glad you pulled yourself together and went to work. That is a good deal + better than the business you tried to follow when we first met,”—and + one of his dry smiles flickered about his mouth. “And now, good night,” + and he held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + The man drew back. It was a new experience. “You mean it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, give me your hand. Now that you are decent I want to shake it. That + is the only way we can help each other.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty was poring over her accounts when Felix arrived at the + express-office and made his way to her sitting-room. She had had a busy + day, the holiday season always bringing a rush of extra work, and her + wagons had been kept going since daylight. The trend of travel was to Long + Island and Jersey towns, the goods being mainly for the Christmas and New + Year's festivities. John was away—somewhere between the Battery and + Central Park—and so were Mike and Bobby, the boy having been pressed + into service now that his vacation had begun. + </p> + <p> + “Are you too busy to talk to me, Mistress Kitty?” he said, stripping off + his mackintosh and hanging it where its drip would do no harm. + </p> + <p> + “Too busy! God rest ye. Mr. O'Day! I'm never too busy to eat, sleep, look + after John and Bobby, and listen to what ye've got to say. Hold on till I + put these bills away. There ain't one of 'em'll be paid till after New + Year—not then, if the customer can help it. They'll all spend their + own money or somebody else's. There!”—and she laid the pile on a + shelf behind her. “Now, go on—what's it ye want? Come, out with it; + and mind, I've said 'Yes, and welcome' before ye've asked it.” + </p> + <p> + O'Day, from his seat near the stove, studied her face for a moment, his + own brightening as he felt the warmth of her loyalty. “Don't promise too + much till you hear me out. I am looking for a job.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty turned quickly, her eyes two round O's, all the ruddiness gone from + her cheeks. “Mr. O'Day! Why! Why!—and what's Otto done to ye? I'll + go to him this minute and—” + </p> + <p> + Felix laughed gently. “You will do nothing of the kind. Mr. Kling is all + right and so am I. I want the job for a tramp who tried to hold me up one + night, and who is now scrubbing the floor in a rather disreputable public + house on Third Avenue.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty let out all her breath and brought her plump hands down on her plump + knees, her body rocking as she did so. “Oh, is that it? What a start ye + give me! I thought ye and Kling had quarrelled. Sure, I'll take your tramp + if ye say so. We want a man to wash the wagons, and help Mike clean up. + John fired the macaroni we had last month and I didn't blame him. What can + yer man do?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much.” + </p> + <p> + “What do ye know about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, except that he tried to rob me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do ye want me to take him on for? To have him get away some + night with a Saratoga trunk and—” + </p> + <p> + “No, to KEEP him from getting away with it. He's been on the ragged edge + of life for some months, if I read him aright, and has all he can do to + keep his footing. I found him a while ago by the merest accident, and he + is still holding on. A week with you and your husband will do him more + good than a legacy. He will get a new standard.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he been doin' that he's up against it like this?” she asked, + ignoring the compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Trying to forget a wife who went back on him—so he tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he done it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If you can believe him. She has become a drunkard.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—that's about the worst thing can happen to a man—if he's + telling ye the truth. What's become of her?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not say. All I know is that he has not seen her since she went + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he didn't want to,” she flashed back. “Did ye get out of him whose + fault it was?” + </p> + <p> + Felix, whose remarks had been addressed to the red-hot coals in the stove, + glanced quickly toward Kitty, but made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Ye don't know, that's it, and so ye don't say I'll tell ye that it's the + man's fault more'n half the time.” + </p> + <p> + “And what makes you think so, Mistress Kitty?” he asked, trying to speak + casually, not daring to look at her for fear she would detect the tremor + on his lips, wondering all the time at her interest in the subject. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't for thinkin', Mr. O'Day, it's just seein' what goes on every + day, and it sets me crazy. If a man's got gumption enough to make a girl + love him well enough to marry him, he ought to know enough to keep it + goin' night and day—if he don't want her to forget him. Half of 'em—poor + souls!—are as ignorant as unborn babes, and don't know any more + what's comin' to them than a chicken before its head's cut off. She wakes + up some mornin' after they've been married a year or two and finds her + man's gone to work without kissin' her good-by—when he was nigh + crazy before they were married if he didn't get one every ten minutes. The + next thing he does is to stay out half the night, and when she is nigh + frightened to death, and tells him so with her eyes streamin', instead of + comfortin' her, he tells her she ought to have better sense, and why + didn't she go to sleep and not worry, that he was of age and could take + care of himself—when all the time she is only lovin' him and pretty + near out of her mind lest he gets hurted. And last he gets to lyin' as to + where he HAS been—maybe it's the lodge, or a game in a back room, or + somethin' ye can't talk about—anyhow, he lies about it, and then she + finds it out, and everything comes tumblin' down together, and the pieces + are all over the floor. That runs on for a while, and pretty soon in comes + a dandy-lookin' chap and tells her she's an abused woman—and she HAS + been—and he begins pickin' up the scraps and piecin' them together, + tellin' her all the time the pretty things the first man told her and + which, fool-like, she believes over agin, and then one fine day she skips + off and the husband goes round, tearin' his hair with shame or shakin' his + fist with rage, and says she broke up his home, and if she ever sets foot + on his doorstep again he'll set the dogs on her, or let her starve before + he'd give her a crumb. Don't it make you laugh? It does me. And you should + see 'em swell round and air their troubles when most everybody knows just + what's happened from the beginnin'! If it was any of my business, I'd let + out and tell 'em so. + </p> + <p> + “What my John knows, I know; and what I know, he knows. There's never been + a time, and there ain't one now, when I'm beat out and my bones are + hangin' stiff in me—and I get that way sometimes even now—that + I don't go to John and say, 'John, dear, get yer arms around me and hold + me tight, I'm that tired,' and down goes everything, and he's got my head + on his shoulder and pattin' my cheeks, and up I get all made over new, and + him too. That's the way we get on, and that's the way they all ought to + get on if—” + </p> + <p> + She paused, stretching her neck as if for more air. + </p> + <p> + “God save me! Will ye hear me run on? And ye sittin' there drinkin' it all + in, not known' a word about the women and carin' less. Ye've got to + forgive me, for I'm like John's alarm-clock in this wife business, and + when I'm wound up I keep strikin' until I run down. Whew! What a heat I + got myself into! Now go on, Mr. O'Day. What'll I pay him, and when's he + comin?” + </p> + <p> + Felix waved his hand deprecatingly. “And so you never think, Mistress + Kitty, that it may be the woman's fault?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sometimes it is. Faults on both sides, maybe. If it's the woman's + fault, it always begins when she lets her man do all the work. Look up and + down 'The Avenue' here! Every wife is helpin' her husband in his business, + and every wife knows as much about it as the man does. That ain't the way + up around Central Park. Half of 'em ain't out of bed till purty nigh + lunch-time. I've heard 'em all talk; and worse yet, they glory in it. What + can ye expect when there ain't five of 'em to a block who knows whether + her husband has made a million in the past year or whether he's flat + broke, except what he tells her? No wonder, when trouble comes, they shift + husbands as they do their petticoats, and try it over again with a new + one!” + </p> + <p> + “And if she takes this last plunge, when will she wake up to her mistake?” + asked Felix, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ye can't always tell. It'll generally run on for a while until she + starts up and stares about her like she's been in a trance or a nightmare, + and then the dear God help her after that, for nobody else can—nor + will! That's the worst of it—NOR WILL! John was readin' out to me + the other night about the Red Cross Society for pickin' up wounded off the + battle-field, and carryin' them in where they can be patched up again and + join their companies when they get well. Why don't they have a Red Cross + for some of the poor girls and wives who are hurted—hundreds of 'em + lyin' all over the lot—and patch 'em up and bring 'em back to their + homes? Now I'm done.” + </p> + <p> + “No! Not yet. One more question. After the last nightmare, what?” + </p> + <p> + “The gutter—or worse—that's what! And when it's all over, most + people say: 'Served her right—she had a happy home once, why didn't + she stay in it?' And somebody else says: 'She was always wild and foolish—I + knew her as a girl.' And some don't say a blessed word because they + couldn't dirty their clean lips with her name-the hypocrites!—and so + they cart off her poor body and dump it in a lot back of Calvary cemetery. + Oh, I know 'em, and that's what makes me get hot under the collar every + time I get talkin' as I've been to-night!—And now let's quit it. If + yer dead-beat wants a job, and we can keep him from stealin' the tires off + the wagon and the shoes off my big Jim, he can come to work in the + mornin', and John will pay him a dollar a day and he can sleep over the + stables. And if he's decent, he can come in here once in a while and I'll + warm him up with a cup of coffee. I'm glad to take him on just because ye + want it—and ye knew that before I said it, for there's nothin' I + wouldn't do for ye, and ye know that, too. Listen! That's John drivin' in, + and I'm going out to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVII + </h2> + <p> + To the fears already possessing Lady Barbara a new one had now been added, + freezing her blood and leaving her prostrate and helpless, like a plant + stricken by an icy blast. + </p> + <p> + There had been no sleep for her after Martha's revelations regarding the + presence of Felix in town, and turn as she would on her pillow, she could + not escape the dread of one hideous possibility—her meeting him face + to face, uncovering to his penetrating gaze her shame. + </p> + <p> + That he had had any other purpose in pursuing her across the sea than to + humiliate and punish her, she did not believe. No man, certainly no man as + proud as her husband, would forgive a woman who had trailed his ancestral + name in the mud, and made his family life a byword in clubs and + drawing-rooms. That Martha believed he could still love her was natural. + Such good souls, women of the people, who had always led restrained and + wholesome lives, would believe nothing else, but not a woman of her own + class. She had only to recall a dozen instances where the bonds of + marriage had been broken, with all the attendant scandal and misery, to be + convinced of what would befall her were she and Felix to meet. + </p> + <p> + Her one hope was that her husband, baffled in his search, had left the + city, and that neither Martha nor Stephen would ever see him again. Their + inability to find him of late might mean that he had given up the search, + having found no trace of her during all the months in which he had been + trying to find her. Or it might mean that he, too, had succumbed to the + same poverty which she had endured and, being no longer able to maintain + himself in the great city, had sought work elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + As the thought of this last possibility suddenly took possession of her, + her heart gave a great bound of relief, and in the quiet that ensued, a + certain tenderness for the man whom she had wronged began to well up + within her. She recalled their early life and his unfailing generosity. + Never in all the years she had known him had he refused her the slightest + thing which could, in any way, add to her happiness. Indeed, he had often + denied himself many of the luxuries to which a man of his tastes and + training was entitled, in order to add to her store. Nor had he ever + restrained her in her whims or her extravagance, and never, in any way, + had he curtailed her freedom. She had been free to come and free to go, + and with whom she pleased. Her intimacy with Dalton had been proof of all + this, as well as her friendships with various men to whose companionship + many another husband might have objected. “All right, Barbara,” was his + invariable reply; “you will get over your youth one of these days, and + then you and I will settle down.” + </p> + <p> + Even when the financial crash had come, he had begged her to go with him + to Australia, where he had important family connections, and where he + could build up his fortunes anew. It was by no means certain, he had told + her, that he was entirely ruined. His father's estate, when all the debts + were paid, might still leave a surplus. There was some land just outside + of London, too, on the line of suburban improvement, and this, with the + title which had come to him with his father's death, would doubtless, + after a few years, enable them to return to England and resume their + former position. She remembered very well the night he had pleaded with + her, and she remembered, too, with a gripping at her heart, her own + contemptuous answer, and her departure the next morning for her father's + roof. And then the lie she had told!—that Felix had bluntly + announced to her his plan for raising sheep in Australia, ordering her to + get ready to go with him at once. + </p> + <p> + She recalled, too, this time with burning cheeks, a certain unsigned + letter, in an unknown hand, which had reached her after her flight with + Dalton, describing her husband as stunned and dazed by the blow, the + writer denouncing her for her desertion, and warning her of the + retribution in store for her if she remained with a man like the one on + whom she had staked her future happiness. She had laughed at its contents + and tossed it across the table to Dalton, who had read it with a smile, + caught it between a pair of tongs and, lighting a match, held it over the + flame until it was consumed. + </p> + <p> + Then—as, tortured by these recollections, she lay staring at the + dark—Martha's prediction, based on Stephen's, belief, that Felix + would kill Dalton at sight, rose up in her mind, and with it came another + great fear—one that, for a moment, stopped her heart from beating + and left her numb. In the quick succession of blows that Martha had dealt, + she had not fully grasped this part of the story. Now she did. That her + husband was capable of it she fully believed. Quiet, reticent men like + Felix—men who had served their country both in India and Egypt—men + who never boasted, who never discussed their intentions or plans until + they were carried out, were the men to take the law into their own hands + when their honor was involved, no matter who was hurt. Such a catastrophe + would not only bring to light her own misery, but the unavoidable + publicity would tarnish still further the good name of her people at home. + Even were only an attempt on Dalton's life made, and an official + investigation held—as she was convinced would be the case—the + scandal would be almost as bad. Rather than have this occur she would make + any sacrifice, even that of humiliating herself on her knees before Felix—begging + his forgiveness, not for the sake of the man she now feared and detested, + but for the sake of her father at home, and to shield her own identity. + She feared, too, for Felix. He, of all men, should be saved from + committing such an act. + </p> + <p> + With this a sudden resolve born of her fears and shattered nerves took + possession of her. She would not only see her husband whenever he came, + but she would send word in the morning to Stephen to redouble his search, + leaving no stone unturned until he was found. + </p> + <p> + Nothing of all this did she say to Martha, who helped her dress, watching + the dark circles beneath the eyes. Breakfast over, she silently took her + seat by the window, drew from the big paper box at her feet her several + pieces of lace, including the mantilla, and began to work. + </p> + <p> + As she held up to the light the ragged tear in the Spanish lace, and noted + the width and length of the gash in its delicate texture, her heart sank. + She saw at a glance that she could not finish it before closing time, even + if she devoted the whole day to its repair. Better complete, thought she, + the other and smaller pieces—one a fichu of Brussels lace, and the + others some embroidered handkerchiefs on which she was to place monograms. + These she would finish and take to Mangan. When he saw how tired she was, + he would accept her excuses and give her another day for the large and + more important piece. She did not have to leave the house until four + o'clock, and as Martha was to be out most of the day, she could work on + without distraction of any kind. + </p> + <p> + When, at noon, Martha left her, with a caressing pat of the hand, + promising to be back in time for supper, the anxious, weary woman picked + up her needle again, her fingers darting in and out like shuttles, her + shoulders aching with the strain, her mind still intent on the problems + which had tortured her all night, and only rousing herself when the clock + in a neighboring tower struck four. Then she gathered up her work, wrapped + the whole in the same sheet of tissue-paper in which the several pieces + had been packed, and, adjusting her hat and cloak, started for + Rosenthal's. + </p> + <p> + Mangan, who was in charge of the department, had been waiting for her in a + small room off the repair shop, and as he caught sight of her frail figure + making her way toward him, rose to greet her. “Well, I'm glad you've + come,” he began, as she reached his desk. “Brought that Spanish piece, + didn't you? Ought to have had it last night.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to smile, but his face was too forbidding. “No, I am sorry to + say that—” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't! What have you done with it?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not finish it. I have brought everything else. I will have it for + you in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Mangan looked at her curiously, a smirk of suspicion crossing his narrow + fox face. “Oh! You'll bring it to-morrow, will you?” he sneered. “Well, do + you know that to-morrow's New Year's Eve and that this mantilla's got to + be delivered to-night? They have been telephoning all day for it. + To-morrow, eh? Well, don't that make you tired! It does me.” + </p> + <p> + An indignant protest quivered through her, but she dared not show + resentment. Only within the last few months had she been subjected to + these insults, and only her helplessness had compelled her to bear them. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” she answered simply, and with a certain dignity. “I + have not been very well. I have done all I could. The damage was greater + than I expected. Some of the threads must be entirely restored.” + </p> + <p> + “What time to-morrow?” Every kind of excuse known to the shop-worker had + been poured into his ears. Very few of them contained a particle of truth. + </p> + <p> + “Before noon, if I can; certainly by four o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Four o'clock?” he roared. He had already made up his mind that she was + lying, but there was no use in his telling her so, nor would any time be + gained by taking the work from her and handing it over to another + employee. + </p> + <p> + “Four means eight, I guess. What's the matter with ten o'clock? I got to + have that sure, and no monkeying. Can't you brace up and jam it through?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try.” Her cheeks were burning under the sting of his coarse + lashes. + </p> + <p> + “Try! You bet you'll try! Better get home right away. Give me that bundle—I'll + have it checked up, so you won't lose no time.” + </p> + <p> + She bit her lip, her whole nature in revolt, but she made no reply. Too + much was at stake for her to show anger at such coarseness. She had no + rights that he was bound to respect. She was only one of his work-girls, + and her short experience had shown her that but few of her associates + received better treatment from him. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” was all she said as, with downcast eyes, she picked her way + through the crowded workroom, down the long, steep staircase reserved for + employees and so on to the street. There she caught a Third Avenue car and + sank into a seat near the door, encroaching upon her small reserve of + pennies to reach home the sooner. She saw but too clearly that not only + did her present position depend on her returning the mantilla at the + earliest possible moment, but that, exhausted as she was, she must utilize + the few remaining minutes of daylight as well as the earlier hours of the + morning to keep her promise. To work long at night she knew was + impossible. She had not the eyes to follow the intricacies of the meshes + with no other light than that afforded by Martha's kerosene lamp. She had + tried it before, and had been forced to stop. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the cross street leading to Martha's door, she hurried + from the car, caught her skirts in her hand, a habit of hers when + nervously hurried, and, summoning up all her strength, sped on, mounting + the narrow, rickety steps with but a pause for breath on the last landing. + Once there, she took her latch-key from her pocket and unlocked the door, + leaving it on the jar, as she knew Martha might come in at any moment. + </p> + <p> + As she entered the humble apartment, its restful seclusion, after her + experience with Mangan, sent a thrill of thankfulness through her. One + after another the several objects passed in review—the kettle + singing on the stove, its ample bed of coals warming the room; her own + tiny chamber, leading out of the one large room, with its small iron + bedstead and white cotton quilt; the table with its lamp; the pine shelves + with the few pieces of china, and even the big paper box in which her work + was delivered and later returned to the shop, either by wagon or special + messenger, and which Martha, before she had gone out, had placed on a + chair near the door to keep it out of the dust. All told her of peace and + warmth and comfort. + </p> + <p> + She lighted the lamp, picked up the box containing the mantilla, and half + raised the lid, intending to place the contents on her sewing-table, but, + catching sight of the kettle again, she let the box lid drop from her + hands. She was chilled from the ride in the car, the water was boiling, + and it would take but a minute to make herself a cup of tea. This would + give her renewed strength for her task. Hardly had she drained her cup + when she became conscious of a step on the stairs—a steady, firm + step. Not Martha's nor that of the boy. Nor that of the expressman who + often sought Martha's apartment. + </p> + <p> + As it approached the landing, a sickening faintness assailed her. + </p> + <p> + She had heard that step before. + </p> + <p> + It was Felix! + </p> + <p> + Her hour of trial had come! + </p> + <p> + He would find the door ajar, stride into the room with that quiet, + self-contained manner of his; and she must face him and stand ashamed! + </p> + <p> + For a brief instant she wavered, her resolution of the morning, to throw + herself at his feet, put to flight by a sense of some impending terror. + Should she spring forward and shut the door before he reached it, refusing + to admit him until Martha came, or should she creep noiselessly into her + room and lock herself in, remaining silent until he should leave the + premises, believing no one at home? While she stood, half paralyzed with + fear, the door moved gently, almost stealthily, swinging back half its + width, and a man in cape-coat, and slouch hat drawn dose over his eyes, + stepped into the room. + </p> + <p> + Lady Barbara gave a piercing shriek, sprang from her seat, and staggered + back, grasping a chair to keep her from falling. “How dare you, Guy + Dalton, to—” + </p> + <p> + The intruder loosened the top button of his cape, watching, meanwhile, the + terrified woman, and, with a sneer, said: “Oh, stop that, will you? I've + had enough of it. You thought you could get away, did you? Well, you + can't, and the sooner you find that out the better for you.” He glanced + coolly around the room. “So this is where you are, is it?—a rotten + hole, anyhow. You might better have stayed where you were. Does Rosenthal + pay you enough to keep this up, or is somebody else footing the bills? + Now, you get your things on and be quick about it.” + </p> + <p> + She had been edging toward her bedroom door all this time, her eyes + glaring into his with the fierceness of a cornered animal, muttering as + she stepped—one word at a time: + </p> + <p> + “You—have—no—right—to—come—in—here.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't, haven't I? I'd like to know who has a better right?” he + returned angrily. + </p> + <p> + “No, you have not.” She was moving an inch at a time, keeping a chair + between herself and Dalton, her eyes watching his every expression, her + right hand stretched along the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Still at it, are you? Well, get through, and hurry up. I'll go where I + please, and you'll come when I want you. Everybody is inquiring for you + down at the house, and I promised them you would be back to-night, and you + will. You were a fool to leave. It's a lot better than this. From what I + heard last night, from one of Rosenthal's girls, I thought you had moved + into something palatial.” + </p> + <p> + She had reached the bedroom door now, and her hand was on the knob. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that's right,” he said, mistaking her purpose, “get into your + wraps, and—” + </p> + <p> + The door closed with a sudden bang, and the inside bolt was pushed tight. + </p> + <p> + Dalton stood with his hands in his pockets. “Oh, that's the game, is it?” + he called, in a loud voice. He saw he had been outwitted, and an oath + escaped him. He saw, too, that the door was a heavy one, and the effort to + force it might bring in the neighbors. “Well, there's no hurry. I can + wait,” he added savagely, “but if you know what's good for you, you'll + come out now.” + </p> + <p> + She had sunk down on her bed, hardly daring to breathe. Her only hope now + lay in Martha, and she might not come back for an hour. + </p> + <p> + Dalton sauntered away from the door and began an inspection of the room. + The box on the chair came first. He lifted the lid and drew out the + mantilla. “Rather good, this—wonder how she got hold of it—Oh, + yes, I see, she must be repairing it. There are her work-basket and the + spools of black silk.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the box again and read the name of “Rosenthal” stencilled on + the bottom. “So that is what she is doing—they did not tell me what + she worked at.” He spread out the mantilla again and looked it over + carefully. Then a smile of cunning crossed his face. “Just what I want,” + he said, folding it up and tucking it inside his capacious cape. + </p> + <p> + He now made a tour of the room, his tread like that of a cat, lifted the + plates on the dresser as if in search of something behind them, rummaged + through the work-basket, opening and turning the leaves of a book lying on + the table. So occupied was he that he did not hear Martha's noiseless step + nor know that she had entered the room. + </p> + <p> + For a moment she stood watching his every movement. The man she saw was + well-knit and rather handsome, not much over thirty, with clean-shaven + face, drooping eyelids, and a hard-set lower jaw. She had a suspicion that + it might be Dalton, but was not sure, never having seen him but once, when + he was much younger. + </p> + <p> + “Who do you want to see?” she asked at last, in a firm voice. + </p> + <p> + Dalton wheeled sharply, and took her in with one comprehensive glance. He + had always prided himself on never having been outwitted or taken + unawares, and that Lady Barbara could lock herself in her room, and that + this woman could creep up behind him unobserved, rather nettled him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that it is any of your business, my good woman,” he + answered, his insolence increasing as he noticed how mild and inoffensive + she appeared to be; “but if it makes any difference to you, I will tell + you that I am waiting for my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” Martha's voice was clear and incisive, with a ring of + determination through it that, for the moment, disconcerted him. + </p> + <p> + Dalton pointed to the bedroom door. + </p> + <p> + Martha stepped across the room and tried the knob. “Open the door, Lady + Barbara. It's Martha. Who is this man?” + </p> + <p> + The bolt shot back and Barbara's frightened face peered out. “Oh, thank + God you have come!” she moaned, her teeth chattering. “It is Mr. Dalton. I + ordered him from the room, and he would not go, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's Mr. Guy Dalton, is it?” Martha cried, facing him. “The man who's + been a curse to you ever since you met him. I know every crook and turn of + you—you ought to be ashamed of yourself to treat a woman as you have + treated Lady Barbara O'Day. Now, sir, this is my room and you can't stay + in it a minute longer. There's the door!” + </p> + <p> + Dalton laughed a dry, crackling laugh. “You are a regular virago, are you + not, my dear woman?” he said. “Quite refreshing to hear your defense of a + woman on whom I have spent every shilling I had. Now, do not get excited—cool + down a bit, and we will talk it over—and while we are at it, please + make me a cup of tea. It is about my hour. When my wife comes to her + senses, as she will in a minute, she will get over her tantrums and think + better of it.” + </p> + <p> + Martha strode straight toward him until her capacious body was within a + few inches of his shirt-front, her hands tightly clinched. “Don't make any + mistake, Mr. Dalton. Your airs won't go here. My brother Stephen looks + after me and after Lady O'Day, and he and another man you wouldn't care to + meet are looking after you.” + </p> + <p> + She called to her mistress: “Lock and bolt that door on you, and don't + open it until I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Again she confronted Dalton, her contempt for him increasing as she caught + the wave of anxiety that swept his face at her reference to the men who + would help her. “Now, you can have just one minute to leave this room, Mr. + Dalton,” she cried, throwing back the door. “If you're over that time, the + policeman on the block will help you down-stairs.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton hesitated. The allusion to Stephen, whoever he might be, and to the + other man, disturbed him. That the woman knew more of his history than she + was willing at that time to tell was evident. That she was entirely in + earnest, and meant what she said, and that it would be more than dangerous + for him to defy her, should she appeal to the police for help, were + equally evident. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, my dear woman,” he said, with assumed humility, his eyes + glistening with anger, “if you do not want me to stay, I suppose I shall + have to go. I did not come to make any fuss; I only came to take my wife + home where I can take care of her. She seems to think she can get along + without me. All right—I am willing she should try it for a while. + She has my address, which is more than I had when she left me without a + word of any kind.” + </p> + <p> + He slid his hand under his cape to assure himself that the mantilla was + safe and out of sight, picked up his hat, and stepped jauntily out, saying + as he went down the staircase: “Next time, she will come to me. Do you + hear? Tell her so, will you?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Sometimes on life's highway we meet a man who reminds us of one of those + high-priced pears seen in fruiterers' windows: wholesome, good to look at, + without a speck or stain on their smooth, round, rosy skins—until we + bite into them. Then, close to their hearts, we uncover a greedy, + conscienceless worm, gnawing away in the dark—and consign the whole + to the waste-barrel. + </p> + <p> + Dalton, despite his alluring exterior, had been rotten at heart from the + time he was sixteen years of age, when he had lied to his father about his + school remittances, which the old man had duplicated at once. + </p> + <p> + That none of his associates had discovered this was owing to the fact that + no one had probed deeper than the skin of his attractiveness—and + with good reason: it was clean, good to look at, bright in color, a most + welcome addition to any dinner-table. But when the drop came—and + very few fruits can stand being bumped on the sidewalk—the + revelation followed all the quicker, simply because bruised fruit rots in + a day, as even the least qualified among us can tell. + </p> + <p> + And the bruises showed clearer as time went on. The lines in his once + well-rounded, almost boyish face grew deeper and more strongly marked, the + eyes shrank far back beneath the brows, the lips became thinner and less + mobile, the hair was streaked with gray, and the feet lacked their + old-time spring. + </p> + <p> + With these there had come other changes. The smile which had won many a + woman was replaced by a self-conscious smirk; the debonair manner which + had charmed all who met him was now a mere bravado. His dress, too, showed + the strain. While his collar and neckwear were properly looked after, and + his face was clean-shaven, other parts of his make-up, especially his + shoes and hat, were much the worse for wear. + </p> + <p> + This, then, was the man who, with thoughts intent on his last and most + degrading makeshift, was forging his way up Second Avenue, the mantilla—the + veriest film of old Salamanca lace—pressed into a small wad and + stuffed in his inside pocket. + </p> + <p> + And now, while we follow him on his way up-town, it may be just as well + for us to note that up to this precise moment our devil-may-care, still + rather handsome Mr. Dalton, with the drooping eyelids and cold, hard lips, + had entirely failed to grasp the idea that, in so far as public and + private morals were concerned, he had in the last thirty minutes fallen to + the level of a common sneak-thief. + </p> + <p> + His own reasoning, in disproof of this theory, was entirely characteristic + of the man. While the pawning of one's things was of course unfortunate + and might occasion many misunderstandings and much obloquy, such an act + was not necessarily dishonest, because many gentlemen, some of high social + position, had been compelled to do the same thing. He himself, yielding to + force of circumstances, had already pawned a good many things—his + wife's first, and then his own—and would do it again under similar + conditions. That the article carefully hidden in his pocket belonged to + neither one of them, did not strike him as altering the situation in the + slightest. The mantilla was of no value to him, nor, for that matter, to + Lady Barbara. He would pawn it not alone for the sake of the money it + would bring him, to tide him over his troubles until he could recover his + losses—only a question of days, perhaps hours—but because, by + means of the transaction, he would be enabled to restore harmony to a home + which, through the obstinacy of a woman on whom he had squandered every + penny he possessed in the world, had been temporarily broken up. + </p> + <p> + Should she rebel and refuse to join him—and she unquestionably had + that right—he would carry out a plan which had come to him in a + flash when he first picked it up. He would pawn it for what it would bring + and, watching his chance some day when Lady Barbara was out at work, force + his way into the apartment, slip the pawn-ticket where it could easily be + found—behind the china or in among her sewing materials—and + with that as proof, charge her with having stolen the lace, threatening + her with exposure unless she yielded. If she relented, he would destroy + the ticket and let the matter drop; if she continued obstinate, he would + charge her companion with being an accessory. The woman was evidently + befriending Lady Barbara for what she could get out of her. Neither of + them was seeking trouble. Between the two he could accomplish his purpose. + </p> + <p> + What would happen in the meanwhile, when she tried to account for its loss + to Rosenthal, never caused him the slightest concern. She, of course, + could concoct some story which they would finally believe. If not, they + could deduct the value of the lace from her earnings. + </p> + <p> + He had the best of motives for his action. Their board bill was overdue. + He was harassed by the want of even the small sums of money needed for + car-fare, and of late it had become very evident that if they were to keep + their present quarters—and he was afraid to try for any others—he + must yield at once to the proprietor's pressing suggestion to “patch up + his differences with his wife,” and have her come home and once more take + charge of the suite of rooms; the owner arguing that as Mr. and Mrs. + Stanton were known to be “family people,” a profitable little game free + from police interruption might be carried on, the surplus to be divided + between the “house and Mrs. Stanton's husband.” + </p> + <p> + That she should decline again to be party to any such plan seemed to him + altogether improbable, since all she had to do to insure them both comfort + was to return home like a sensible woman, put on the best clothes she + possessed—the more attractive the better, and she certainly was + fetching in that wrapper—and be reasonably polite to such of his + friends as chose to drop in evenings for a quiet game of cards. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, she owed him something. He had made every sacrifice for her, + shared with her his every shilling, making himself an exile, if not a + fugitive, for her sake, and it was time she recognized it. + </p> + <p> + With the recall of these incidents in his checkered career a new thought + blazed up in his mind—rather a blinding thought. As its rays + brightened he halted in his course, and stood gazing across the street as + if uncertain as to his next move. Perhaps, after all, it would be best NOT + to pawn the mantilla. An outright sale would be much better. If this were + impossible, it would be just as well to destroy the ticket and postpone + his scheme for regaining possession of her person. While something + certainly was due him—and she of all women in the world should + supply it—forcing her to carry out the landlord's plan, now that he + thought it over, might result in a certain kind of publicity, which, if + his own antecedents were looked into, would be particularly embarrassing. + She might—and here a slight shiver passed through him—she + might, in her obstinacy, threaten him with the forged certificates, a + result hardly possible, for no letters of any kind had reached her, none + so far as he knew; neither had he ever discussed the incident with her, + for the simple reason that women, as a rule, never understood such things. + And yet how could he, as a financier, have tided over an accounting which, + if allowed to go on, would have wiped out the savings of hundreds who had + trusted him and whom he could not desert in their hour of need, except by + some such desperate means? Of course, if he had to do it all over again, + he would never have locked up the stock-book in his own safe. That was a + mistake. He ought to have left it with the treasurer. Then he could have + shifted the responsibility. + </p> + <p> + Just here, oddly enough, he began to think of Felix—that + cold-blooded, unimaginative man, who knew absolutely nothing about how to + treat a woman, and, for that matter, knew nothing about anything else in + so far as the practical side of life was concerned. The fool—here + his brow knit—had not only broken up the final deal, in which + everything had been fixed with Mullhallsen, the German banker, for an + additional loan, but he had unearthed and compared certain certificates, + in his fight to protect an obstinate old father. Worse still, he had taken + himself off to Australia to starve, instead of saving what he could out of + the wreck. Had he only listened to advice, the whole catastrophe might + have been averted. + </p> + <p> + And this fool would have ruined his wife as well, had not he—Dalton—stepped + in and saved her from burying herself in the wilderness. + </p> + <p> + As the memory of the scene with Felix when the stock-book was unearthed + passed through his mind, his hand instinctively sought the bulge in his + coat-pocket. He must get rid of it and at once. Just as the certificates + had proved to be dangerous, so might this lace. + </p> + <p> + With this idea of his own peril possessing his mind his whole manner + changed. The air of triumph shown in his step and bearing when he left + Marta's door, due to his discovery of the fugitive and the terror his + presence had inspired, was gone. The old spectre always pursuing him + stepped again to his side and linked arms. His slinking, furtive air + returned, and a certain well-defined fear, as if he dreaded being + followed, showed itself in every glance. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he caught sight of a well-patronized retreat, owned and operated + by a Mrs. Blobbs, the Polish wife of an English cheap John, and with a + quick sliding movement, he paused in front of the narrow door. He had + already taken in, from under his hat, the single gas-jet lighting up its + collection of pinchbeck jewelry, watches, revolvers, satin shoes, fans, + and other belongings of the unfortunate, and after peering up and down the + street, he slipped in noiselessly, his countenance wearing that peculiar, + shame-faced expression common to gentlemen on similar missions. That it + was not his first experience could be seen from the way he leaned far over + the counter, dropped the filmy wad, and then straightened back—the + gesture meaning that if any other customer should come in while his + negotiations were in progress, he was not to be connected in any way with + the article. + </p> + <p> + “Something rather good,” he said, pointing to the black roll. + </p> + <p> + The proprietress, a square-built woman, solid as a sack of salt, her + waist-line marked by a string tightened just above a black alpaca apron, + her dried-apple face surmounted by a dingy lace cap topped with a soiled + red ribbon, eyed him cautiously, and remarked, after loosening out the + mantilla: “Dem teater gurls only vant such tings, and dey can pay nuddin'. + No, I vouldn't even gif fife tollars. Petter dake it somevares else.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton hesitated, turning the matter over in his mind. The transfer would + bring him the desired pawn-ticket, but the five dollars was not sufficient + to help him tide over the most pressing of his difficulties. He had + borrowed double that sum two nights before, from the barkeeper of a + pool-room where he occasionally played, and he dared not repeat his visit + until he could carry him the money. + </p> + <p> + The male Blobbs, the taller and more rotund of the two shopkeepers—especially + about the middle—now strolled in, leaned over the counter, and + picking up the lace, held it to the overhead light. Looked at from behind, + Blobbs was all shirt-sleeves and waist-coat, the back of his flat head + resting like a lid on his shoulders. Looked at from the front, Blobbs + developed into a person with shoe-brush whiskers bristling against two + yellow cheeks, the features being the five dots a child always insists + upon when drawing a face. Dalton saw at a glance that it was Mrs. Blobbs, + and not Mr. Blobbs, who was in charge of the shop, and that any + discussions with him as to the price would be useless. + </p> + <p> + “You're an Hinglishnan, I take it,” came from the lowest dot of the five, + a blurred and uncertain mouth. + </p> + <p> + Dalton colored slightly and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what I should adwise ye to do is to take this 'ere lace to some of + them hold furnitoor shops. I know what this is. I 'ate to see a chap like + ye put to it like this, that's why I tell ye. 'Ard on your woman, but—there's + a shop hup on Fourth Avenue where they buy such things. A Dutchman by the + name of Kling, right on the corner—you can't miss it. Take it hup to + 'im and tell 'im I sent ye—we often 'elps one another.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton crumpled up the black wad, slid the package under his coat, and + without a word of thanks left the shop. + </p> + <p> + This was not the first time Blobbs had sent Kling a customer. Indeed, + there had always been more or less of a trade between the two + establishments. For, while Mrs. Blobbs had a license and could advance + money at reasonable rates, her principal business was in old-clothes and + ready-to-wear finery. Being near “The Avenue” and well known to its + denizens, many of their outgrown and out-of-fashion garments had passed + across her counter. Here the young man who pounded away on Masie's piano, + the night of her birthday party, borrowed, for a trifle, his evening suit. + Here Codman had exchanged a three-year-old overcoat, which refused to be + buttoned across his constantly increasing girth, for enough money to pay + for the velvet cuffs and collar of the new one purchased on Sixth Avenue. + Here Mrs. Codman bought remnants of finery with which to adorn her young + daughter's skirts when she went to the ball given by the Washington + chowder party. Here, too, was where the undertaker sold the clothes of the + man who stepped off a ten-story building in the morning and was laid out + that same night in Digwell's back room, his friends depositing a fresh + suit for him to be buried in, telling the undertaker to do with the old + one as he pleased. And to this old-clothes shop flocked many another + denizen of side streets, who at one time or another had reached crises in + their careers which nothing else could relieve. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blobbs's curt refusal to receive the lace only added fuel to the + blazing thought that had flared up in Dalton's mind when he recalled the + certificates. Holding on to them had caused one explosion. The mantilla + might prove another such bomb. He dared not leave it at home and he could + not carry it for an indefinite time on his person. If the man Kling would + pay any decent price for it, he could have it and welcome. + </p> + <p> + With the grim spectre still linking arms with him he hurried on, making + short-cuts across the streets, until he arrived at Kling's corner. At this + point he paused. His terror must not betray him. Shaking himself free of + the spectre, he assumed his one-time nonchalant air, entered the store and + walked down the middle aisle, between the lines of sideboards, bureaus and + high desks drawn up in dress parade. Over the barricade of the small + office he caught the shine of Otto's bald head, the only other live + occupant, except Fudge, who had crept out from behind a bureau, and + bounded back with a growl. Fudge had sniffed around the legs of a good + many people, and might have written their biographies, but Dalton was new + to him. Few thieves had ever entered Kling's doors. + </p> + <p> + “I have just left your old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Blobbs,” he began gayly, + “who have advised me to bring to you rather a rare piece of lace belonging + to my wife. Fine, isn't it?” He loosened the bundle and shook out the + folds of the mantilla. + </p> + <p> + Otto put on his glasses, felt the texture of the piece between his + fingers, and spread out the pattern for closer examination. “Yes, dot's a + good piece of lace. Vot you vant to do vid it? Dere's a hole in it, you + see,” and he thrust a pudgy finger into the gash. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” returned Dalton, who, with his eye still on the dog, had + been crushing it together so that the tear might not show; “but that is + easily remedied. I want to sell it. Mr. Blobbs tells me it is worth a + hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Is dot so? Vell—vell—a hundred tollars! Dot's a good deal of + money.” He had begun to wrap it up, tucking in the ends. “No—dot + Fudge dog don't bite—go away, you. T'ank you for lettin' me see it, + tell Mr. Blobbs, but I don't vant it at dot price. And I doan know I vant + it at any price. Dey doan buy dem t'ings any more.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton saw that the mantilla had favorably impressed the dealer. He had + caught the look of pleasure when the lace was first unrolled, reading the + man's brain as he had often read the brains of the men at home who + listened to some rose-colored prospectus. These experiences had taught him + that there was always a supreme moment when one must stop praising an + article for sale, whether it were a rubber concession from an African + chief or a pound of tea over a grocer's counter. This moment had arrived + with Kling. + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you,” he said smilingly. “The valuation was Mr. Blobbs's, + not mine. I told him I should be glad to get half that amount—or + even less.” + </p> + <p> + Otto took the bundle and loosened the roll again. “I got a little girl, + Beesving—dot was her dog make such foolishness—who likes dese + t'ings. But dot is not business, for I doan sell it again once I gif it to + her. I joost put it around her shoulders for a New Year's gift. Maybe if + you—” He re-examined it closely, especially the tear, which had + partly yielded to Lady Barbara's deft fingers and tired eyes. “Vell, I + tell you vot I do, I gif you tventy tollars.” + </p> + <p> + “That, I am afraid, will not answer my purpose,” said Dalton. “Perhaps, + however, you will loan me thirty dollars on it and hold the lace for a + week or so, and I will pay you back thirty-five when some money that is + due me comes in?” + </p> + <p> + Otto looked at him from under his bushy eyebrows. “Ve don't do dot kind of + business. If I buy—I buy. If I sell—I sell. Sometimes I pay + more as a t'ing is vorth. Sometimes I pay less. I have a expert vid me who + knows vat dis is vorth, but he is busy vid a customer on de next floor, + and I doan sent for him. If you vant de tventy tollars you can have it. If + you doan, den take avay de lace. I got a lot of t'ings to do more as to + talk about it. Ven you see Blobbs, you tell him vat I say.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton's mind worked rapidly. To take the money would clean off his debt + and leave him a margin which he might treble before midnight. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the money,” he said. “It is not one-third of its value, but I see + that it is all I can do.” + </p> + <p> + Otto smiled—the smile of a man who had hit the thing at which he + aimed—felt in his inside pocket, drew out a great flat pocketbook, + and counted out the bills. + </p> + <p> + Dalton swept them up as a winner at baccarat sweeps up his coin, + apparently without counting them, stuffed the crumpled bank-notes into his + pocket, and started for the door. + </p> + <p> + Half-way down the long shop he halted opposite a sideboard laden with old + silver and glass and, to show that he was not in a hurry, paused for an + instant, picking up a cut-glass decanter with a silver top, remarking + casually, as he laid it back, “Like one I have at home,” continuing his + inspection by holding aloft a pipe-stem glass, to see the color the + better. + </p> + <p> + As he resumed his walk to the door, Felix, with Masie and a customer ahead + of him, was just descending the rear stairs from the “banquet hall” above. + He thus had a full view of the store below. Something in the way with + which the bubble-blown glass was handled attracted O'Day's attention. He + had seen a wrist with a movement like that, the poised glass firmly held + in an outstretched hand. Where, he could not tell; at his own table, + perhaps, or possibly at a club dinner. He remembered the quick, upward + toss, the slender receptacle held high. He leaned far forward, and watched + the nervous step and halting gait. Had Masie and the customer not been + ahead of him, he would have hurried past them and called to the man to + stop—not an unusual thing with him when his suspicions were aroused. + Instead, he waited until he was well down the stairs, then strolled + carelessly toward the door, intending to make some excuse to accost the + man on the sidewalk. Not that he had any definite conviction regarding his + likeness to the man he wanted; more to satisfy his conscience that he had + permitted no clew to slip past him. + </p> + <p> + What made him hesitate was the way the slouch-hat shaded the intruder's + face, the gas-jets not revealing the features. Only the end of the chin + was visible, and the round of the lower cheek showing above the heavy + cape-collar of the overcoat. + </p> + <p> + Dalton by this time had reached the street-door, which he closed gently + behind him, holding it for an instant to prevent its making a noise. Felix + lunged forward, reopened it quickly, and gazed out into the night. Dalton + had vanished as completely as if the earth had swallowed him. + </p> + <p> + Another man, who had kept his eyes on O'Day as he peered into the dark, an + undersized, gaunt-looking man, sidled toward Felix and pulled at his coat + sleeve. “I ain't too early, am I? You said eight o'clock?” + </p> + <p> + Felix looked at him keenly. “Oh, yes, I remember—no, you are all + right. How long have you been here?” + </p> + <p> + “About half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice which way that man went who has just shut the door?” + </p> + <p> + The tramp looked about him in a helpless way. “I wasn't lookin'. I was + a-watchin' you—waitin' for you to come out—but I got on to him + when he went in awhile ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have seen him before?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I've seen him before. He plays pool where I've been a-workin'.” + </p> + <p> + Felix bent closer. “Do you know his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! His name's Stanton. He's been puttin' sompin' to soak, I guess. I + heard last week he was up against it. Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + Felix remained silent a moment, checking his own disappointment, and then + answered slowly: “I thought I did, but I see I am mistaken. Come inside + the store where it is warmer. I have secured you a job, and will take you + with me when I have finished here.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIX + </h2> + <p> + Had a spark of human feeling been left in Dalton's body, it would have + been kindled into a flame of sympathy, could he have seen Lady Barbara + when she opened the box early next morning, and stood trembling over the + loss of the mantilla. + </p> + <p> + Her first hope was that she had inadvertently taken it to Rosenthal's with + the other pieces of lace, and that Mangan had found it when he checked up + her work. Then a cold chill ran through her, her anxiety increasing every + moment. Had she dropped it in the street? Had the woman who jostled her on + the way up the long staircase to the workroom, picked up her package when + she stumbled? Perhaps some one had crept in during the night and, finding + the box near the door, had caught up the mantilla and escaped without + being detected? Could she herself have dragged it into her bedroom, + entangled in the folds of her skirt? Was it not near the window, or in her + basket, or behind the door, or— + </p> + <p> + Martha, with a shake of her head, put all these theories to flight. + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't in your room at all, and it isn't anywhere else around here; + and nobody's been in here from the outside; and they couldn't get in if + they tried, for I bolted the door when we went to bed. The only person who + has had the run of the place is Mr. Dalton, and he—” + </p> + <p> + “Martha!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wasn't here when he first came, but when I opened the door he was + peeking behind the china.” + </p> + <p> + “But I had not been inside my room a minute before I heard your voice. How + could he have taken it? You don't think—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't say what I think, because I don't know, but he's mean enough to + do anything he could to hurt you. How long had he been talking to you when + I came in?” + </p> + <p> + “Just long enough for me to run past him and lock myself in.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long do you think it would take him to steal it, if he thought + nobody was looking?” + </p> + <p> + “But he could not have stolen it, Martha; he was on the other side of the + room. The box is by the door where I left it; you can see it for yourself. + Oh what shall I do? Where could I have dropped it? It must be at the store + in that bundle. Mr. Mangan said I need not wait, and I did not see him + open it. He has found it by this time and he is waiting for me. I will go + right away and see him. Anybody could make a mistake like that. He must—he + WILL understand when I explain it all. Get my cloak and hat, please, + Martha. I will take the car up and back, and you can have my coffee ready + for me upon my return. I won't be half an hour. Oh! how awful it is, how + awful! If I had only found it out last night! I had meant to work, but I + could not after what happened. Mr. Mangan was very much put out yesterday, + and I know he will be furious to-day. No, you need not come with me,” and + she was gone. + </p> + <p> + Martha closed the door, walked to the window, and stood looking through + the panes until the slight figure had reached the street, where she caught + up her skirt, to free her steps the better, and started on a run for the + car line. When the fragile form was lost in the whirl of the traffic, + Martha walked slowly to the table and sank into a chair, her elbows + resting on its top, her face in her hand. + </p> + <p> + The next instant she was on her feet examining Lady Barbara's work-basket, + wondering what Dalton had found in it, wondering, too, why he had looked + through it. Crossing to the dresser, she moved the plates and cups, as he + had done, searching for a possible note, or perhaps for a duplicate key of + their former apartment which he might have left for Barbara, and then + moved toward the door of the smaller chamber, behind which her mistress + had lain shivering. Her eye now fell on the box, the lid awry. She + remembered that this lid had been in that same position when she had + ordered the intruder from the room, and that, at the time, she had thought + it strange that Lady Barbara, always so careful, had not fastened it to + keep the dust from its contents. Stooping closer, she examined the various + articles. She noted that one sleeve of the lace blouse had been lifted + from its place, while the other sleeve remained snug where her mistress + had tucked it. In pulling out one of the upper pieces, this sleeve must + have been caught in its meshes and dragged clear. This could only have + been done by the mantilla which, she distinctly remembered, had been laid + neatly on top the afternoon before, so as to be ready for work in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + “He's got it,” she exclaimed in an excited tone, replacing the lid. “I'll + stake my life he stole it, the dirty cur! He's done it to get even with + her. She'll be back in a little while, half distracted. There is going to + be trouble, plenty of it. I'll have Stephen here right away, and we'll + talk it over. I can take care of her when she's inside these rooms, but + what if that man waylays her on the street and raises a row, and she goes + back to him to smooth over things? This has got to stop. She won't live + the month out if he gets to hounding her again, and now he's found out + where she is, I shan't have a moment's peace. What a hang-dog face he's + got on him! And he's a coward, too, or he wouldn't have slunk out when I + ordered him. And he had it on him all the time! I wonder what he'll do + with it. Hold it over her, I expect; maybe take it to Rosenthal's with + some lie about her, so they will discharge her and she come back to him. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe—” Here she stopped, and grew suddenly grave. “Maybe he'll—No, + I don't think he'd dare do that, but I've got to get Stephen, and I'll go + for him this minute. Going's quicker than a letter, and I'll leave word + down-stairs where I'm gone, so she'll know when she comes in, and I'll fix + her coffee so she can get it.” + </p> + <p> + Hurrying into her own room, she began changing her dress, putting on her + shoes, taking her night cloak and big, flare bonnet from the hook behind + the door, talking to herself as she moved. + </p> + <p> + “It's getting worse all the time, instead of getting better. God knows + what's to become of her! She's most beat out now, and can't stand much + more; and she's the best of the lot, except Mr. Felix, for she's clean + inside of her, and only her heart is to blame—and that father of + hers, Lord Carnavon, with his dirty pride, and this scoundrel she's + wrecking her life on, and all the fine ladies at home who turned up their + noses at her when half of them are twice as bad—oh, I know 'em—you + can't fool Martha Munger! I've been too long with 'em. And this poor child + who—Oh! I tell you this is a bad business, and it's getting worse—yes, + it's getting worse. Rosenthal isn't going to stand losing that piece of + lace, without its costing somebody some money. Stephen's got to come and + be around evenings while I'm out. And I'll go with her to Rosenthal's and + fetch her back home, so that man Dalton can't frighten the life out of + her.” + </p> + <p> + She put the coffee-pot where it would keep hot, and laid the cups and + saucers ready for her mistress. This done, she shut the door, and made her + way down-stairs. “Tell Mrs. Stanton when she comes in,” she said to the + old woman who acted as janitor, “that I've gone to see my brother, and + that I'll be back just as soon as I can.” + </p> + <p> + All hopes which had cheered Lady Barbara on her way to Rosenthal's, even + when she climbed the long stairs and was ushered into Mangan's small + office, died out of her heart when she saw the manager's face. She had + anticipated an outburst of anger, followed by a brutal tirade over her + carelessness in wrapping up the mantilla with the other pieces and leaving + it behind her the night before. Instead, he came forward to meet her—his + lean, nervous body twitching with expectation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is something like! Didn't think you'd turn up for an hour. + Let's have it.” This with a low chuckle—the nearest he ever got to a + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Something dreadful has happened, Mr. Mangan,” she began, stumbling over + her words, her knees shaking under her. “I thought I had wrapped the + mantilla up with the pieces I brought you last night, but I see now that—” + </p> + <p> + “You thought! Say, what are you giving me? Ain't you got it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not, and I don't know what has become of it. It was not in the box + this morning, and—” + </p> + <p> + “IT WASN'T IN THE BOX THIS MORNING!” he roared. “See here, what kind of a + damn fool do you take me for?” He wheeled suddenly, caught her by the + wrist, dragged her clear of the door, and shut it behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Stanton,” he said, in cold, incisive tones, “let's you and I + have this out, and I want to tell you right here that I believe you're + lying, and I've been suspecting it for some time. Now, make a clean breast + of it. You've pawned it, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I—pawn it? You think I—I won't allow you to speak to me in + that way. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, cut that out, it won't wash here. Now, listen! I've got to get that + mantilla, see? And I'm going to get it if I go through every pawn-shop in + town with a fine-tooth comb. I orter to have had better sense than to let + you take it out of the shop. Now open up, and I'll help you straighten out + things. Where is it? Come, now—no side-tracking.” + </p> + <p> + She had sunk down on the chair, her fingers tightly interlocked, his words + stunning her like blows. Their full meaning she missed in her dazed + condition. All she knew was that, in some way, she must defend herself. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mangan, will you please listen to me? I have not pawned it, and I + would never dream of doing such a thing. I can only think that some one + has taken it from the box—I don't know who. I came to you the moment + I discovered the loss. I thought perhaps I had wrapped it up with the + other pieces I brought you last night, or that I had dropped it in the + street on my way here. And, yet, none of these things seemed possible when + I began to think about it. I will do all I can to pay for it. You can take + its value from my work until it is all paid.” + </p> + <p> + Mangan, who had been pacing the floor, hearing nothing of her explanation—his + mind intent upon his next move—dragged a chair next to hers. + </p> + <p> + “Now, pull yourself together for a minute, Mrs. Stanton. I'm not going to + be ugly. I'm going to make this just as easy as I can for you. You've got + a lot of common sense, and you're some different from the women who handle + our stuff. I've seen that, and that's why I've trusted you. Now, think of + me a little. That mantilla don't belong to Rosenthal's. It belongs to a + big customer who lives up near the Park, and who left it here on condition + we had it mended on time. It's worth $250 if it's worth a cent, and it's + worth a lot more to me, because I lose my job if I don't get hold of it + to-day. It's a New Year's present and has got to be sent home to-night. + Now, don't that make things look a little different to you? And now, one + thing more, and I'm going to put it up to you, just between ourselves, and + nobody will get onto it—nobody around here. If it's a matter of ten + or fifteen dollars, I've got the money right here in my clothes. And you + can slip out and I'll keep close behind, and you can go in and get it, and + I'll bring it back here, and that's all there will be to it. Now, be + decent to me. I've been decent to you ever since you come here. Ain't that + so?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Barbara had now begun to understand. This man was accusing her of + lying, if not of theft, while she sat powerless before him, incapable of + speech. Once, as the horror of his suspicion rose before her, she felt a + wild impulse to cry out, even to throw herself on his mercy—telling + him her story and Martha's suspicions. Then the recollection of the + cunning of the man, his vulgarity, his insincerity, slowly steadied her. + Her secret must be kept, and she must not anger him further. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, Mr. Mangan, if you came with me to my rooms, and saw my old—” + she paused, then added softly, “the old woman I live with, and I showed + you where the box is always kept and the way the door opens, perhaps you + could help us to find out how it could have happened.” + </p> + <p> + Mangan rose and pushed back his chair. “Well, you are the limit!” he + gritted between his teeth. “I guess I'm in for it. The old man will be + howling mad, and I don't blame him.” + </p> + <p> + He walked to his desk, picked up his telephone, and, in a restrained + voice, said: “Send Pickert up here. I'm in my office. Tell him there's + something doing.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Barbara rose from her chair and stood waiting. She did not know who + Pickert was nor whether her pleading had moved Mangan, who had now resumed + his seat at the desk, piled high with papers, one of which he was studying + closely. + </p> + <p> + “And you don't think it will do any good if you come to my room?” + </p> + <p> + Mangan shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “And shall I wait any longer?” she continued. The words were barely + audible. She knew her dismissal had come and that she must face another + dreary hunt for new work. + </p> + <p> + Mangan did not raise his head. “Sit down. I'll tell you when I'm through.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and a thick-set man, in a brown suit and derby hat, + stepped in. + </p> + <p> + Mangan wheeled his chair and fronted the two. “This woman, Pickert, is + carried on our pay-roll as Mrs. Stanton. She's got a room off St. Mark's + Place. Here's the number. About a week ago I gave her a lace mantilla to + fix, something good—worth over $200—and every day she's been + coming here with a new lie. Now she says she's lost it. She's either got + it down where she lives or she's pawned it. I've done what I could to save + her, but she sticks to it. Better take some one from the office, + down-stairs, with you. Maybe when she thinks it over she'll come to her + senses. Take her along with you. I'm through.” + </p> + <p> + As the man stepped forward, Lady Barbara sprang away from his touch. “You + do not mean you are going to let this man take me—Mr. Mangan, you + must not, you shall not! You would not commit that outrage. Do you mean—?” + </p> + <p> + Pickert made a gesture of disgust, his fingers outspread. “Keep all that + for the captain. It won't cut any ice here, and you'd better not talk. Now + come along, and don't make any fuss. If it's a mistake, you can clear it + up at the station-house. I ain't going to touch you. You keep ahead until + you get to the street-door. I'll be right behind, and meet you on the + sidewalk.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Barbara drew herself up proudly. “I won't allow it!” she cried; “what + I told you—” + </p> + <p> + Pickert swaggered closer. “Drop that, will you? I got my orders. You heard + 'em, didn't you? Will you go easy, or shall I have to—” and he half + dragged a pair of handcuffs from his side pocket. “Now, you do just as I + tell you; it'll all come right, and there won't nobody know what's goin' + on. You get to hollerin' and mussin' up things and there'll be trouble, + see? Open that door now, and walk out just as if everything was reg'lar.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XX + </h2> + <p> + The routine of Felix's daily life had been broken this morning by the + receipt of a letter. The postman had handed it to him as he crossed the + street from Kitty's to Kling's, the tramp who was sweeping the sidewalk + having pointed him out. + </p> + <p> + “That's him,” cried the tramp. “That's Mr. O'Day. Catch him before he gets + inside his place, or you'll lose him. Here, I'll take it.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll take nothin'. Get out of my way.” + </p> + <p> + “For me?” asked Felix, coloring slightly as the postman accosted him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you're Mr. O'Day.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I am. Thank you. If you have any others, bring them here to + Mr. Kling's, where I can always be found during the day.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the seal and the address, but kept it in his hands until he + reached Kling's counter, where he settled into a chair, and with the + greatest care slit the envelope with his knife. A year had passed since he + had received a letter, nor had he expected any. + </p> + <p> + He read it through to the end, turning the pages again, rereading certain + passages, his face giving no hint of the contents, folded the sheets, put + them back in the envelope, and slid the whole into his inside pocket. + After a little he rose, stood for a moment watching Fudge, who, now that + Masie had gone to school, had taken up his customary place in the window, + his nose pressed against the pane. Then, as if some sudden resolve had + seized him, he walked quickly to the rear of the store in search of his + employer. + </p> + <p> + Otto was poring over his books, his bald head glistening under the rays of + the gas-jet, which he had lighted to assist him in his work, the morning + being dark. + </p> + <p> + “I have been wanting to talk to you for some time, Mr. Kling, about + Masie,” he began abruptly. “I may be going home to England, perhaps for a + few weeks, perhaps longer, and I should like to take her with me. I have a + sister who would look after her, and the trip would do her a world of + good. I have been wanting to do this for a long time, but I am a little + freer now to carry out the plan I had for her. And so I have come to + propose it to you.” + </p> + <p> + Otto listened gravely, his fat features frozen into calm. This clerk of + his had made him many startling propositions, and every surrender had + brought him profit. But turning over Beesving to him meant something so + different that the father in him stood aghast. Yet his old habit of + deference did not desert him when at last he spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Vell, vat vill I do? You knew I don't got notin' but Beesving. Don't she + get everytin' vere she is? I do all de schoolin' and de clothes and Aunty + Gossburger look after her. Vhen she gets older maybe perhaps she vould + like a trip. And den maybe ve both go and leave you here to mind de shop + in de summer-time. But now she's notin' but jus' Beesving, vid her head + full of skippin' aroun'. No, I don't tink I can do dat for you. I do most + anytin' for you, but my little girl, you see, dat come pretty close. Dat + make a awful hole in me if Beesving go avay. No, you mustn't ask me dot.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if it were for her good?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, vell, of course, but how do I know dot? And vot you vant to go avay + for? Dot's more vorse as Beesving. Ain't I pay you enough? Maybe you vants + a little interest in de business? I vas tinkin' about dat only yesterday. + Ve vill talk about dot sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Felix laughed gently. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't wish any interest in the business. You pay me quite enough + for the work I do, and I am quite willing to continue to serve you as long + as I can. But Masie should not be brought up in these surroundings much + longer. Perhaps you would be willing to send her to a good school away + from here, if I could arrange it. Either here or in England.” + </p> + <p> + Otto threw up his hands; he was becoming indignant, his mind more and more + set against Felix's proposition. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, but vat's de matter vid de school she has now? She is more dan on + de top of all de classes. De superintendent told me so ven he vas in here + last veek buying Christmas presents. I sold him dat old chair you got Hans + to put a new leg on. You remember dot chair. Vell, dat vas better as a new + von vhen Hans got trough. Hadn't been for you, dot old chair vould be + kicking around now, and I vouldn't have de fifteen dollars he paid me for + it. I vish sometimes you look around for more chairs like dot.” + </p> + <p> + Felix nodded in assent, reading the Dutchman's obstinate mind in the + shopkeeper's sudden return to business questions. If Masie's future was to + be helped, another hand than his own must be stretched out. He turned on + his heel, and was about to regain his chair, when Otto, craning his head, + called out: + </p> + <p> + “Dot's Father Cruse comin' in. You ask him now vonce about dis goin' avay + bizness. He tell you same as me.” + </p> + <p> + The priest was now abreast of Felix, who had stepped forward to greet him, + Otto watching their movements. The two stood talking in a low voice, + Felix's eyes downcast as if in deep thought, the priest apparently urging + some plan, which O'Day, by his manner, seemed to favor. They were too far + off, and spoke too low, for Otto to catch the drift of the talk, and it + was only when Felix, who had followed the priest outside the door, had + returned that he called, from his high seat under the gas-jet: “Vell, vat + did Father Cruse say?” + </p> + <p> + Felix drew his brows together. “Say about what?” he asked, as if the + question had surprised him. + </p> + <p> + “About Beesving. Didn't you ask him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, we talked of other things,” replied Felix and, turning on his heel, + occupied himself about the shop. + </p> + <p> + Across the street meanwhile Kitty's own plans had also gone astray this + winter's morning—so many of them, in fact, that she was at her wits' + end which way to turn. A trunk had been left at the wrong address, and + John had been two hours looking for it. Bobby had come home from school + with a lump on his head as big as a hen's egg, where some “gas-house kid,” + as Bobby expressed it, “had fetched him a crack.” Mike, on his way down + from the Grand Central, knowing that John was away with the other horse + and Kitty worrying, had urged big Jim to gallop, and, in his haste, had + bowled over a ten-year-old boy astride of a bicycle, and, worse yet, the + entire outfit—big Jim, wagon, Mike, boy, bicycle, and the boy's + father—were at that precise moment lined up in front of the + captain's desk at the 35th Street police station. + </p> + <p> + The arrest did not trouble Kitty. She knew the captain and the captain + knew her. If bail were needed, there were half a dozen men within fifty + yards of where she stood who would gladly furnish it. Mike was careless, + anyhow, and a little overhauling would do him good. + </p> + <p> + What did trouble her was the tying up of big Jim and her wagon at a time + when she needed them most. Nobody knew when John would be back, and there + was the stuff piling up, and not a soul to handle it. She stood, leaning + over her short counter, trying to decide what to do first. She could not + ask Felix to help her. He was tired out with the holiday sales. Nor was + there anybody else on whom she could put her hands. It was Porterfield's + busy time, and Codman had all he could jump to. No, she could not ask + them. Here she stepped out on the sidewalk to get a broader view of the + situation, her mind intent on solving the problem. + </p> + <p> + At that same instant she saw Kling's door swing wide and Father Cruse step + out, Felix beside him. The two shook each other's hands in parting, Felix + going back into the shop, and Father Cruse taking the short-cut across the + street to where Kitty stood—an invariable custom of his whenever he + found himself in her neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + Instantly her anxiety vanished. “Look at it!” she cried enthusiastically. + “Can you beat it? There he comes. God must 'a' sent him!” Then, as she ran + to meet him: “Oh, Father, but it's better than a pair o' sore eyes to see + ye! I'm all balled up wi' trouble. John's huntin' a lost trunk. Bobby's + up-stairs with a slab o' raw beef on his head. Mike's locked up for + runnin' over a boy. And my big Jim and my wagon is tied up outside the + station, till it's all straightened out. Will ye help me?” + </p> + <p> + “I am on my way now to the police station,” said the priest in his kindest + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, ye heard o' Mike?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word. But I often drop in there of a morning. Many of the night + arrests need counsel outside the law, and sometimes I can be of service. + Is the boy badly hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he hollered too loud when the wheel struck him, so they tell me. He's + not half as bad as Bobby, I warrant, who hasn't let a squeak out o' him. + Will ye please put in a word for me, Father? I can't leave here or I'd go + meself. I don't care if the captain holds on to Mike for a while, so he + lets me have big Jim and the wagon. John will be up to go bail as soon as + he gets back, if the captain wants it, which he won't, when he finds out + who Mike is. Oh, that's a good soul! I knew ye'd help me. An' how did ye + find Mr. Felix?”—a new anxiety now filling her mind. + </p> + <p> + The priest's face clouded. “Oh, very well; he spent last evening with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was it, was it? An' were ye trampin' the streets with him, too? + It was pretty nigh daylight when he come in. I always know, for he wakes + me when he shuts his door.” + </p> + <p> + The priest, evidently absorbed in some strain of thought, parried her + question with another: “And so the boy was not badly hurt? Well, that is + something to be thankful for. Perhaps I may know his people. I will send + Mike and the wagon back to you, if I can. Good-by.” And he touched his + hat, passing up the street with his long, even stride, the skirt of his + black cassock clinging to his knees. + </p> + <p> + The arrest, so far as could be seen from Mike's general deportment, had + not troubled that gentleman in the least. He had nodded pleasantly to the + captain, who, in return, had frowned severely at him while the father of + the boy was making the complaint; had winked good-naturedly at him the + moment the accuser had left the room; had asked after Kitty and John, + motioned to him to stay around until somebody put in an appearance to go + bail, and had then busied himself with more important matters. A thick-set + man, in a brown suit and derby hat, accompanied by an officer and another + man, had brought in a frail woman, looking as if life were slowly ebbing + out of her; and the four were in a row before his desk. The usual + questions were asked and answered by the detective and the clerk—the + nature of the charge, the name and address of the party robbed, the name + and address of the accused—and the entries properly made. + </p> + <p> + During the hearing, the frail woman had stood with bent head, dazed and + benumbed. When her name was asked, she had made no answer nor did she give + her residence. “I am an Englishwoman,” was all she had said. + </p> + <p> + Mike, now privileged to enjoy the freedom of the room, had been watching + the proceedings with increasing interest, so much so that he had edged up + to the group, as close as he dared, where he could get the light full on + the woman. When the words, “I am an Englishwoman,” fell from her lips, he + let out an oath, and slapped his thigh with the fiat of his hand. “Of + course it is! I thought I know'd her when she come in. English, is she? + What a lot o' lies they do be puttin' up. She never saw England. She's a + dago from 'cross town. Won't Mrs. Cleary's eyes pop when I tell her!” + </p> + <p> + The group in front of the captain's desk disintegrated. The woman, still + silent, was led away to the cell. Rosenthal's clerk, who had made the + charge for the firm, had come round to the captain's side of the desk to + sign some papers. Pickert and the officer had already disappeared through + the street-door. At this juncture the priest entered. His presence was + noted by every man in the room, most of whom rose to their feet, some + removing their hats. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, captain,” he said, including with his bow the other people + present. “I have just left Mrs. Cleary, who tells me that one of her men + is in trouble. Ah! I see him now. Is there anything that I can do for + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, your reverence; the boy's not much hurt. I don't think it was + Mike's fault, from the testimony, but it's a case of bail, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, captain, she is not worrying so much about our poor Mike + here as she is about the horse and wagon. These she needs, for Mr. Cleary + is away, and there is no one to help her. Perhaps you would be good enough + to send an officer with Mike, and let them drive back to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess that won't be necessary, your reverence. See here, Mike, get into + your wagon and take it back to the stable, and bring somebody with you to + go bail. We didn't want the wagon, only there was no place to leave it, + and we knew they would send up for it sooner or later. It's outside now.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, captain. And now, Mike, be very sure you come back,” exclaimed + the priest, with an admonishing finger; “do you hear?” He always liked the + Irishman. + </p> + <p> + Mike grinned the width of his face, caught up his cap, and made for the + door. The priest watched him until he had cleared the room, then, leaning + over the desk, asked: “Anything for me this morning, captain?” + </p> + <p> + “No, your reverence, not that I can see. Two drunks come in with the first + batch, and a couple of crooks who had been working the 'elevated'; and a + woman, a shoplifter. Got away with a piece of lace—a mantilla, they + called it, whatever that is. She's just gone down to wait for the four + o'clock delivery. It's a case of grand larceny. They say the lace is worth + $250. Wasn't that about it?” + </p> + <p> + Rosenthal's man bobbed his head. He had not lifted his hat to the priest, + and seemed to regard him with suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a looking woman is she?” continued the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the same old kind; they're all alike. Nothing to say—too smart + for that. I guess she stole it, all right. All I could get out of her was + that she was an Englishwoman, but she didn't look it.” + </p> + <p> + The priest lowered his head, an expression of suddenly awakened interest + on his face. “May I see her?” he asked, in an eager tone. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sure! Bunky, take Father Cruse down. He wants to talk to that + Englishwoman.” + </p> + <p> + To most unfortunates, whether innocent or guilty, the row of polished + steel bars which open and close upon those in the grip of the law, are + poised rifles awaiting the order to fire. To a woman like Lady Barbara, + these guarded a dark and loathsome tomb, in which her last hope lay + buried. That she had not deserved the punishment meted out to her did not + soothe her agony. She had deserved none of Dalton's cruelty, and yet she + had withered under its lash. This was the end; beyond, lay only a slow, + lingering death, with her torture increasing as the hours crept on. + </p> + <p> + The sound of the turnkey's hand on the lock roused her to consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “Bring her outside where I can talk to her,” said Father Cruse, pointing + to a bench in the corridor. + </p> + <p> + She followed the guard mechanically, as a whipped spaniel follows its + master, her steps dragging, her body trembling, her head bowed as if + awaiting some new humiliation. She had no strength to resist. Something in + the priest's quiet, in the way he trod beside her, seemed to have + reassured her, for as she sank on the bench beside him, she leaned over, + laid one hand on his sleeve, and asked feebly: “Are they going to let me + go?” + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot say, my good woman; I can only hope so.” He looked toward + the guard. “Better leave us for a while, Bunky.” The turnkey touched his + cap and mounted the narrow iron steps to the room above. + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse waited until the footsteps had ceased to echo in the + corridor, and then turned to Lady Barbara. “And now tell me something + about yourself; have you no friends you can send for? I will see they get + your message. The captain told me you were English. Is this true?” + </p> + <p> + She had withdrawn her hand and now sat with averted face, the faint + flicker of hope his presence had enkindled extinguished by his evasive + answer. Only when he repeated the question did she reply, and then in a + mere whisper, without lifting her head: “Yes, I am English.” + </p> + <p> + “And your people, are they where you can reach them?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer; there was nothing to be gained by yielding to his + curiosity. Nor did she intend to reply to any more of his questions. He + was only one of those kind priests who looked after the poor and whose + sympathy, however well meant, would be of little value. If she told him + how cruel had been the wrong done her, and how unjust had been her arrest, + it would make no difference; he could not help her. + </p> + <p> + “There must be somebody,” he urged. He had read her indecision in the + nervous play of her fingers, as he had read many another human emotion in + his time. “There must be somebody,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “There is only Martha,” she answered at last, yielding to his influence. + “She was my nurse when I was a child. She is as poor as I am. She will + come to me if you will send word to her. They would not listen to me at + Rosenthal's when I begged them to bring her to the store.” She lifted her + head and stared wildly about her. “Oh, the injustice of it all—and + the awful horror of this place! How can men do such things? I told them + the truth, Father, I told them the truth. I never stole it. How could I + ever steal anything? How dared he speak to me as he did?” + </p> + <p> + She turned, straining her whole body as if in mortal anguish; then, with + her shoulder against the hard, whitewashed wall, she broke at last into + sobs. + </p> + <p> + The priest sat still, waiting and watching, as a surgeon does a patient + slowly emerging from delirium. + </p> + <p> + “Men are seldom reasonable, my good woman, when they lose their property, + and they often do things which they regret afterward. Of what were you + accused?” + </p> + <p> + His tone reassured her, and, for the first time, she looked directly at + him. “Of stealing a mantilla which I had taken to my rooms to repair.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Rosenthal's, for whom I worked.” + </p> + <p> + “The large store near by here, on Third Avenue?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse lapsed once more into silence, absorbed in a study of certain + salient points of her person—her way of sitting and of folding her + hands, her thin, delicately modelled frame, the pallor of her oval face, + with its mobile mouth, the singular whiteness of her teeth, and the blue + of her eyes, shaded by the cheap, black-straw hat which hid her forehead. + Then he glanced at her feet, one of which protruded from her coarse skirt—no + larger than a child's. + </p> + <p> + When he spoke again, it was in a positive way, as if his inspection had + caused him to adopt a definite course which he would now follow. “This old + nurse of yours, this woman you called Martha, does she know of any one who + could get bail for you? You can only stay here for a few hours, and then + they will take you to the Tombs, unless some one can go bail. I know the + Rosenthals, and they would, I think, listen to any reasonable + proposition.” + </p> + <p> + “Would they let me go home, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, until your trial came off.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered, hugging herself the closer. Her mind had not gone that far. + It was the present horror that had confronted her, not a trial in court. + </p> + <p> + “Martha has a brother,” she said at last, “who has a business of some + kind, and who might help. If you will bring her to me, she can find him.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't remember what his business is?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is something to do with fitting out ships. He was once a mate + on one of my father's vessels and—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped abruptly, frightened now at her own indiscretion. She had been + wrong in wanting to send for Stephen, even in referring to him. Whatever + befell her, she was determined that her people at home should not suffer + further on her account. + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse had caught the look, and his heart gave a bound, though no + gesture betrayed him. “You have not told me your name,” he said simply—as + if it were a matter of routine in cases like hers. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him quickly. “Does it make any difference?” + </p> + <p> + “It might. I do not believe you are a criminal, but if I am to help you as + I want to do, I must know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + She thought for a moment. Here was something she could not escape. The + assumed name had so far shielded her. She would brave it out as she had + done before. + </p> + <p> + “They call me Mrs. Stanton.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your true name?” + </p> + <p> + The Carnavons were imperious, unforgiving, and sometimes brutal. Many of + them had been roues, gamblers, and spendthrifts, but none of them had ever + been a liar. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she answered firmly. + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse settled back in his seat. The ring of sincerity in the + woman's “No” had removed his last doubt. “You do very wrong, my good + woman, not to tell me the whole truth,” he remarked, with some emphasis. + “I am a priest, as you see, and attached to the Church of St. Barnabas—not + far from here. I visit this station-house almost every morning, seeing + what I can do to help people just like yourself. I will go to Rosenthal, + and then I will find your old nurse, and I will try to have your case + delayed until your nurse can get hold of her brother. But that is really + all I can do until I have your entire confidence. I am convinced that you + are a woman who has been well brought up, and that this is your first + experience in a place of this kind. I hope it will be the last; I hope, + too, that the charge made against you will be proved false. But does not + all this make you realize that you should be frank with me?” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself up with a certain dignity infinitely pathetic, yet in + which, like the flavor of some old wine left in a drained glass, there + lingered the aroma of her family traditions. “I am very grateful, sir, to + you. I know you only want to be kind, but please do not ask me to tell you + anything more. It would only make other people unhappy. There is no one + but myself to blame for my poverty, and for all I have gone through. What + is to become of me I do not know, but I cannot make my people suffer any + more. Do not ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “It might end their suffering,” he replied quickly. “I have a case in + point now where a man has been searching New York for months, hoping to + get news of his wife, who left him nearly a year ago. He comes in to see + me every few nights and we often tramp the streets together. My work takes + me into places she would be apt to frequent, so he comes with me. He and I + were up last night until quite late. He has nothing in his heart but pity + for that poor woman, who he fears has been left stranded by the man she + trusted. So far he has heard nothing of her. I left him hardly an hour + ago. Now, there, you see, is a case where just a word of frankness and + truth might have ended all their sufferings. I told Mr. O'Day this + morning, when I left him, that—” + </p> + <p> + She had grown paler and paler during the long recital, her wide-open eyes + staring into his, her bosom heaving with suppressed excitement, until at + the mention of Felix's name, she staggered to her feet, and cried: “You + know Felix O'Day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank God, I do, and you are his wife, Lady Barbara O'Day, Lord + Carnavon's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + She cowered like a trapped animal, uncertain which way to spring. In her + agony she shrank against the wall, her arms outstretched. How did this man + know all the secrets of her life? Then there arose a calming thought. He + was a priest—a man who listened and did not betray. Perhaps, after + all, he could help her. He wanted the truth. He should have it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, her voice sinking. “I am Lord Carnavon's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “And Felix O'Day's wife?” + </p> + <p> + “And Felix O'Day's wife,” came the echo, and, with the last word, her last + vestige of strength seemed to leave her. + </p> + <p> + The priest rose to his full height. “I was sure of it when I first saw + you,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice. “And now, one last + question. Are you guilty of this theft?” + </p> + <p> + “GUILTY! I guilty! How could I be?” The denial came with a lift of the + head, her eyes kindling, her bosom heaving. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you. There is not a moment to be lost.” The priest and father + confessor were gone now; it was the man of affairs who was speaking. “I + will see Rosenthal at once, and then send for your nurse. Give me her + address.” + </p> + <p> + When he had written it, he stepped to the foot of the stairs, and called + to one of the guards. Then he slipped his hand under his cassock, drew out + his watch, noted the hour, and in a firm voice—one intended to be + obeyed—said: + </p> + <p> + “Go back into your cell and sit there until I come. Do not worry if I am + away longer than I expect, and do not be frightened when the key is turned + on you. It is best that you be locked up for a while. You should give + thanks to God, my dear woman, that I have found you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXI + </h2> + <p> + The news of Mike's arrest had been received by kitty's neighbors with + varying degrees of indifference. Everybody realized that, as the run-over + boy had lost nothing but his breath—and but little of that, judging + from his vigorous howl when Mike picked him up—nothing would come of + the affair so long as the present captain ruled the precinct. Kitty and + John and all who belonged to them were too popular around the station; too + many of the boys had slipped in and slipped out of a cold night, warmed up + by the contents of her coffee-pot. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, between the captain and the denizens of “The Avenue,” only the + most friendly, amicable, and delightful personal relations prevailed. To + the habitual criminal, the sneak-thief, and the hold-up, he might be a + mailed despot swinging a mailed fist, but to the occasional “Monday + drunk,” or the man who had had the best or the worst of it in a fight, or + to one like Mike who was the victim of an unavoidable accident, he was + only a heathen idol of justice behind which sat a big-waisted, tightly + belted man whose wife and daughters everybody knew as he himself knew + everybody in return; who belonged to the same lodge, played poker in the + same up-stairs room when off duty, and was as tender-hearted in time of + trouble as any one of their other acquaintances. Not to have allowed Mike, + a man he knew, a man who had been Kitty and John's driver for years, to + hunt up his own bond, would have been as unwise and impossible as his + releasing a burglar on straw bail, or a murderer because the dead man + could not make a complaint. + </p> + <p> + When, therefore, Mike burst into the kitchen with the additional + information that “the cap” had let him go to bring back the wagon and + somebody with “cash” enough to go bail, a general movement, headed by Tim + Kelsey, who happened to be passing at the time, was immediately organized—Tim + to proceed at once to the station-house, take the captain on one side, and + so end the matter. Locking up Mike, even threatening him, was, as the + captain knew, an invasion of the rights of “The Avenue.” Nobody within its + confines had ever been entangled in the meshes of the law—simply + because nobody had wanted to break it. It was the howling boy who should + have been locked up for getting under Mike's wheels, or his father who + ought to have kept his son off the street. + </p> + <p> + Mike listened impatiently to the discussion and, watching his chance, + beckoned to Kitty, shut the door upon the two, and poured into her ear a + full account of what he had seen and heard at the station-house. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's that got to do with it?” Kitty demanded. “What did she have + to do with the boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, don't I tell ye—she's been swipin' a department store, and + they got her dead to rights.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's been swipin'? What are ye talkin' about, Mike? Stop it now—I've + got a lot to do, and—” + </p> + <p> + “The woman ye put to bed that night. The one ye picked up near St. + Barnabas, and brought in here and dried her off. She skipped in the + mornin' without sayin' 'thank ye'—why, ye must remember her! She was—” + </p> + <p> + Kitty clapped her two palms to her face, framing her bulging eyes—a + favorite gesture when she was taken completely by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “That woman!” she cried, staring at Mike. “Where is she now? Tell me—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—but she—” + </p> + <p> + “Ye don't know, and ye come down here with this yarn? Don't ye try and + fool me, Mike, or I'll break every bone in yer skin. Go on, now! How do ye + know it's the same woman?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm tellin' ye no lies. Come back with me and see for yerself. The cap + will let ye go down and talk to her. I heard Father Cruse tell ye to keep + an eye out for her if she ever came around here agin. Ye got to hurry or + they'll have her in the Black Maria on the way to the Tombs. Bunky told me + so.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty stood in deep meditation. She remembered that Mike had been in the + kitchen when the woman sat by the stove. She remembered, too, that Father + Cruse had cautioned her to send word to the rectory if the poor creature + came again and, if there were not time to reach him, then to tell Mr. + O'Day. That the priest had not run across the woman at the station-house + was evident, or he would have sent word by Mike. She would herself find + out and then act. + </p> + <p> + “But ye must have seen Father Cruse. Did he send any word?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he come in just as I was leavin'. It was him who told me to be sure + to hurry back. See the horse gits some water, will ye? I got to go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on—what did the Father say about the woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', don't I tell ye?—he didn't see her. They'd locked her up + before he came.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't ye tell him who it was?” + </p> + <p> + “How was I a-goin' to tell him when the cap told me to git?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, then, wid ye! If the Father's still there, tell him I'm a-comin' + up, and will bring Mr. O'Day wid me, and to hold on till I get there.” + </p> + <p> + She took her wraps from a peg behind the door, threw it wide, and joined + her neighbors in the office, composing her face as best she could. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to go over to Otto Kling's,” she announced bluntly, without any + attempt at apologies. “Some one of ye must go up and bail Mike out—any + one of ye will do. Mr. Kelsey spoke first, so maybe he'd better go. I'd go + myself and sign the bond only I'm no good, for I don't own a blessed thing + in the world, except the shoes I stand in—and they're half-soled and + not paid for; John's got the rest. I'll be there later on, ye can tell the + captain. Mr. Codman, please send over one of your boys to mind my place. + John ain't turned up and won't for an hour. That trunk went to Astoria + instead of the Astor House, bad 'cess to it, and that's about as far apart + as it could git. And, Mike, don't stand there with yer tongue out! And + don't let Toodles go with ye. Get back as quick as ye can—and tell + the captain to make it easy for me, that if the boy's badly hurt I'll go + and nurse him if he ain't got anybody to take care of him. Git out, ye + varmint—thank ye, Tim Kelsey, I'll do as much for you next time ye + have to go to jail. Good-by”—and she kept on to Kling's. + </p> + <p> + Otto's store was full of customers when Kitty strode in. Even little Masie + had been pressed into service to help on with the sales, as well as one of + the “Dutchies” whom Kling had brought up from the cellar. The few + remaining hours of the old year were fast disappearing and the crowd of + buyers, intent on securing some small remembrance for those they loved, or + more important gifts with which to welcome the New Year, thronged the + store and upper floor. + </p> + <p> + Kitty made straight for Felix, who was leaning over the low counter, + absorbed in the sale of some old silver. His disappointment over Kling's + rebuff regarding Masie's future had been greatly lightened, relieved by + his talk with Father Cruse an hour before, and he had again thrown himself + into his work with a determination to make the last days of the year a + success for his employer,—all the more necessary when he remembered + his plans for the child. The customer, an important one, was trying to + make up her mind as to the choice between two pieces, and Felix was + evidently intent on not hurrying her. + </p> + <p> + He had seen Kitty when she opened the door and approached the counter, had + noticed her excitement when she stopped in front of him, and knew that + something out of the ordinary had sent her to him at this, the busiest + part of his own and her day. But his only sign of recognition was the lift + of an eyelid and a slight movement of his hand, the palm turned toward + her, a gesture which told as plainly as could be that, while he was glad + to see her—something she was never in doubt of—the present + moment was ill adapted to protracted conversation. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, however, was not built on diplomatic lines. What she wanted she + wanted at once. When she had something vital to accomplish she went + straight at it, and certainly nothing more vital than her present mission + had come her way for weeks. + </p> + <p> + That the news she carried had something to do with O'Day's happiness, she + was convinced, or Father Cruse would not have been so insistent. That the + woman herself was, in some way, connected with his misfortunes, she also + suspected—and had done so, in reality, ever since the night on which + she gave him the sleeve-links. She had not said so to John; she had not + hinted as much to Father Cruse; but she had never dismissed the + possibility from her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, ma'am,” she said, ignoring Felix and going straight to the + cause of the embargo, “but couldn't ye let me have Mr. O'Day for a few + minutes? I've somethin' very partic'lar to say to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mistress Kitty—” began Felix, smiling at her audacity, the + customer also regarding her with amused curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. O'Day, I wouldn't butt in if I could help it. Excuse me, ma'am, + but there's Otto just got loose, and—Otto, come over here and take + care of this lady who is goin' to let me have Mr. O'Day for half an hour. + Thank ye, ma'am, you don't know me, but I'm Kitty Cleary, the expressman's + wife, from across the street, and I'm always mixin' in where I don't + belong and I know ye'll forgive me. Otto'll charge ye twice the price Mr. + O'Day would, but he can't help it because he's Dutch. Oh, Otto, I know + ye!” + </p> + <p> + Felix laughed outright. “Thank you, Mr. Kling,” he said, yielding his + place to his employer, “and if you will excuse me, madam,” and he bowed to + his customer, “I will see what it is all about—and now, Mistress + Kitty, what can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty backed away toward the door, so that a huge wardrobe shielded her + from Otto and his customer. + </p> + <p> + “Come near, Mr. O'Day,” she whispered, all her forced humor gone. “I've + got the woman who dropped the sleeve-buttons.” + </p> + <p> + Felix swayed unsteadily, and gripped a chair-back for support. + </p> + <p> + “You've got—the woman—What do you mean?” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Mike saw her at the police-station. They've put her in a cell.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrested?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for stealin'.” + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily his fingers brushed his throat as if he were choking, but no + words came. He had been all his life accustomed to surprises, some of them + appalling, but against this, for the instant, he had no power to stand. + </p> + <p> + Kitty stood watching the quivering of his lips and the drawn, strained + muscles about his jaw and neck as his will power whipped them back to + their normal shape. She was convinced now of the truth of her suspicions—the + woman was not only interwoven with his past, but was closely identified + with his present anguish. + </p> + <p> + She drew closer, her voice rising. “Ye'll go with me, won't ye, Mr. + Felix?” she went on, hiding under an assumed indifference all recognition + of his struggle. “Father Cruse told me if I ever come across her again, + and there wasn't time to get hold of him, to let ye know.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go anywhere, where Father Cruse thinks I should, Mrs. Cleary—especially + in cases of this kind, where I may be of use.” The words had come from + between partly closed lips; his hands were still tightly clinched. “And + you say she was arrested—for stealing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, shopliftin', they call it. Poor creatures, they get that miserable + and trodden on they don't know right from wrong!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as if to give him time in which to recover himself fully, she went + on, speaking rapidly: “And, after all, it may only be a put-up job or a + mistake. Half the women they pinch in them big stores ain't reg'lar + thieves. They get tempted, or they can't find anybody to tell 'em the + price o' things, especially these holiday times, and they carry 'em round + from counter to counter, and along comes a store detective and nabs 'em + with the goods on 'em. They did that to me once, over at Cryder's, and I + told him I'd knock him down if he put his hand on me, and somebody come + along who knew me, and they was that scared when they found out who I was + that they bowed and scraped like dancin' masters and wanted me to take the + skirt along if I'd say nothin' about it. That might have happened to this + poor child—” + </p> + <p> + “Has Father Cruse seen her?” asked Felix. No word of the recital had + reached his ears. + </p> + <p> + “No—that's why I come to ye.” + </p> + <p> + “And where did you say she was?” He had himself under perfect control + again, and might have been a man bent only on aiding Father Cruse in some + charitable work. + </p> + <p> + “Locked up in the station-house not far from here. It won't take ye ten + minutes to get there.” + </p> + <p> + Felix glanced at the big-faced clock, facing the side window of the store. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I will go, since Father Cruse wishes it. Thank you for + bringing his message. You need not wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Needn't wait! Ye're not goin' one step without me. They'd chuck ye out if + ye did, and that's what they won't do to me if the captain's in his + office. Besides, Mike run over a boy, and Tim Kelsey is up there now + standin' bail for him. There's no use goin' unless ye see her. That's what + the Father wanted ye to do, and that ain't easy unless ye've got the run + of the station. So, ye see, I got to go with ye whether ye want me or not, + or ye won't get nowheres. I'll wait till ye get yer hat and coat.” + </p> + <p> + All the way to the station-house, Kitty beside him, Felix was putting into + silent words the thoughts that raced through his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Barbara arrested as a vulgar thief!” he kept saying over and over. “A + woman brought up a lady—with the best blood of England in her veins—her + father a man of distinction! The woman I married!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as a jagged thread of light breaks away from a centre bolt, + illuminating a distant cloud, a faint ray cheered him. Perhaps the woman + was not Barbara. No one had any proof. Father Cruse had never believed it, + and he had only argued himself into thinking that the woman who had + dropped the sleeve-link must be his wife. Until he knew definitely, saw + her with his own eyes, neither would HE believe it, and a certain shame of + his own suspicion swept through him like a flame. + </p> + <p> + The captain was out when the two reached the station. Nor was there any + one who knew Kitty except a departing patrolman, who nodded to her + pleasantly as she passed in, adding in a whisper the information that Mike + and Kelsey had gone up to Magistrate Cassidy, who held court in the next + block, and that she was “not to worry,” as it was “all right.” + </p> + <p> + A new appointee—a lieutenant she had never seen before—was + temporarily in charge of the station. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Mrs. Cleary,” she began, in her free, outspoken way, “and this is Mr. + Felix O'Day.” + </p> + <p> + The new appointee stared and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Ye never saw me before, but that wouldn't make any difference if the + captain was around. But ye can find out about me from any one of yer men + who knows me. I'm here with Mr. O'Day lookin' up a woman who was brought + here this morning for stealin' some finery or whatever it was from one of + these big stores—and we want to see her, if ye plaze.” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant shook his head. “Can't see no prisoner without the + captain's orders.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty bridled, but she kept her temper. “When will he be back?” + </p> + <p> + “Six o'clock. He's gone to headquarters.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd let me see her if he was here,” she retorted, with some asperity. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt—but I can't.” All this time he had not changed his + position—his arms on the desk, his fingers drumming idly. + </p> + <p> + Felix rested his hands on the rail fronting the desk. “May I ask if you + saw the woman?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I only came on half an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one here who did see her?” + </p> + <p> + Something in O'Day's manner and in the incisive tones of his voice, those + of command not supplication, made the lieutenant change his position. The + speaker might have a “pull” somewhere. He turned to the sergeant. “You + were on duty. What did she look like?” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant yawned from behind his hand. He had been up most of the + previous night and was some hours behind his sleep schedule. Kitty's + presence had not roused him but the self-possessed man could not be + ignored. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the girl who got Rosenthal's lace?” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You're dead right,” returned the lieutenant obligingly. He had, of + course, always been ready to do what he could for people in trouble, and + was so now. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, about as they all look.” This time the sergeant directed his remarks + to Felix. “We get two or three of 'em every day, specially about Christmas + and New Year's. Rather run down at the heel, this one, and—no, come + to think of it, I'm wrong—she looked different. Been a corker in her + time—not bad now—about thirty, I guess—maybe younger—you + can't always tell. Rather slim—had on a black-straw hat and some + kind of a cloak.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty was about to freshen his memory with some remembrance of her own, + and had got as far as, “Well, my man Mike was here and he told me that—” + when Felix lifted a restraining hand, supplementing her outburst by the + direct question: “Did she say nothing about herself?” + </p> + <p> + “She did not. All we could get out of her was that she was English.” + </p> + <p> + Felix bent nearer. “Will you please describe her a little closer? I have a + reason for knowing.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant caught the look of determination, dallied with a tin + paper-cutter, bent his head on one side, and pursed a pair of thick lips. + It was a strain on his memory, this recalling the features of one of a + dozen prisoners, but somehow he dared not refuse. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she was one of the pocket kind of women, small and well put up but + light built, you know. She had blue eyes—big ones—I noticed + 'em partic'lar—and about the smallest pair of feet I ever seen on a + girl. She stumbled down-stairs and caught her dress, and I remember they + was about as big as a kid's. That was another thing set me to wondering + how she got into a scrape like this. She could have done a lot better if + she had a-wanted to,” this last came with a leer. + </p> + <p> + Felix clenched his teeth, and drove his nails into the palms of his hands. + He would have throttled the man had he dared. + </p> + <p> + “Did she make any defense?” he asked, when he had himself under control + again. + </p> + <p> + “No—there warn't no use—she owned up to having pinched it. Not + here at the desk, but to Rosenthal's man who made the charge—that + is, she didn't deny it. The stuff was worth $250. That's a felony, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty saw Felix sway for an instant, and was about to put out a protecting + hand when he turned again to the lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + “Officer, I do not ask you to break your rules, but I would consider it an + especial favor if you would let me see this woman for a moment—even + if you do not permit me to speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can't see her.” The reply came with some positiveness and a + slight touch of irony. He had made up his mind now that if the speaker had + a pull, he would meet it by keeping strictly to the regulations. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she ain't here. She's in the Tombs by this time, unless somebody + went her bail up at court. They had her in the patrol-wagon as I come on + duty.” + </p> + <p> + “The Tombs? That is the city prison, is it not?” Felix asked, hardly + conscious of his own question, absorbed only in one thought—Lady + Barbara's degradation. + </p> + <p> + “That's what it is,” answered the lieutenant with a contemptuous glance at + Felix, followed by a curl of the lip. No man had a pull who asked a + question like that. + </p> + <p> + “If I went there, could I see her?” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' doin'—too late. You might work it to-morrow. Step down to + headquarters, they'll tell you. If she's up for felony it means five years + and them kind ain't easy to see. Can I do anything more for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Felix firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, move on, both of you—you can't block up the desk.” + </p> + <p> + Felix turned and left the station-house, Kitty following in silence, her + heart torn for the man beside her. Never had he seemed finer to her than + at this moment; never had her own heart stirred with greater loyalty. But + never since she had known him had she seen him so shaken. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing more we can do to-day,” he said, speaking evenly, almost + coldly, when they reached the corner of the street. “I will see Father + Cruse to-night and tell him of your kindness, and he can decide as to what + is to be done. And if you do not mind, I will leave you.” + </p> + <p> + She stood and watched him as he disappeared in the throng. She understood + her dismissal and was not offended. It was not her secret and she had no + right to interfere or even to advise. When he was ready he would tell her. + Until that time she would wait with her hands held out. + </p> + <p> + Felix crossed the street, halted for an instant as if uncertain as to his + course, and turned toward the river. He wanted to be alone, and the crowd + gave him a greater sense of isolation. It was the first time in months + that he had tramped the thoroughfares without some definite object in + view. All that was now a thing of the past, never to be revived. His quest + was finished. The interview with the sergeant had ended it all. Every item + in his detailed account of the woman now in the Tombs tallied with Kitty's + description of the woman with the sleeve-buttons and so on, in turn, with + the woman who was once his wife. + </p> + <p> + With this knowledge there flamed up in his heart an uncontrollable anger, + fanned to white heat by hatred of the man who had caused it all. His + fingers tightened and his teeth ground together. That reckoning, he said + to himself, would come later, once he got his hands on him. If she were a + thief, Dalton had made her so. If she were an outcast and a menace to + society, Dalton had done it. By what hellish process, he could not divine, + knowing Lady Barbara as he did, but the fact was undeniable. + </p> + <p> + What then was he to do? Go back to London and leave her, or stay here and + fight on in the effort to save her? SAVE HER! Who could save her? She had + stolen the goods; been arrested with them in her possession; was in the + Tombs; and, in a few weeks, would be lost to the world for a term of + years. + </p> + <p> + He could even now see the vulgar, leering crowd; watch the jury, picked + from the streets, file in and take their seats; hear the few, curt, + routine words, cold as bullets, drop from the lips of the callous judge, + the frail, desolate woman deserted by every soul, paying the price without + murmur or protest—glad that the end had come. + </p> + <p> + And then, with one of those tricks that memory sometimes plays, he saw the + altar-rail, where he had stood beside her—she in her bridal robes, + her soft blue eyes turned toward his; he heard again the responses, “for + better or for worse”—“until death do us part,” caught the scent of + flowers and the peal of the organ as they turned and walked down the + aisle, past the throng of richly dressed guests. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” he choked, worming his way through the crowd, unconscious of + his course, unmindful of his steps, oblivious to passers-by—alone + with an agony that scorched his very soul. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXII + </h2> + <p> + When Martha, on her return from Stephen's, had climbed the dimly lighted + stairs leading to her apartment, she ran against a thick-set man, in brown + clothes and derby hat, seated on the top step. He had interviewed the + faded old wreck who served as janitress and, learning that Mrs. Munger + would be back any minute, had taken this method of being within touching + distance when the good woman unlocked her door. She might decide to leave + him outside its panels while she got in her fine work of hiding the thing + he had climbed up three flights of stairs to find. In that case, a twist + of his foot between the door and the jamb would block the game. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the man who has been waiting for me?” she exclaimed, as the + detective's big frame became discernible under the faint rays from the + “Paul Pry” skylight. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you are the woman who is living with Mrs. Stanton.” He had risen + to his feet and had moved toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Mrs. Munger, if that's who you are looking for, and we live together. + She's not back yet, so the woman down-stairs has just told me. Are you + from Rosenthal's?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” He had edged nearer, his fingers within reach of the knob, his + lids narrowing as he studied her face and movements. + </p> + <p> + “Did they find the lace—the mantilla?” + </p> + <p> + “Not as I heard,” he answered, noting her anxiety. “That's what brought me + down. I thought maybe you might know something about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't find it?” she sighed. “No, I knew they wouldn't. She was sure she + had taken it up night before last, but I knew she hadn't. Where's my key?—Oh, + yes—stand back and get out of my light so I can find the keyhole. + It's dark enough as it is. That's right. Now come inside. You can wait for + her better in here than out on these steps. Look, will you! There's her + coffee just as she left it. She hasn't had a crumb to eat to-day. What do + you want to see her about? The rest of the work? It's in the box there.” + </p> + <p> + Pickert, with a swift, comprehensive glance, summed up the apartment and + its contents: the little table by the window with Lady Barbara's + work-basket; the small stove, and pine table set out with the breakfast + things; the cheap chairs; the dresser with its array of china, and the two + bedrooms opening out of the modest interior. Its cleanliness and order + impressed him; so did Martha's unexpected frankness. If she knew anything + of the theft, she was an adept at putting up a bluff. + </p> + <p> + “When do you expect Mrs. Stanton back?” he began, in an offhand way, + stretching his shoulders as if the long wait on the stairs had stiffened + his joints. “That's her name, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “I expected to find her here,” she answered, ignoring his inquiry as to + Lady Barbara's identity. “They are keeping her, no doubt, on some new + work. She hasn't had any breakfast, and now it's long past lunch-time. And + they didn't find the piece of lace? That's bad! Poor dear, she was near + crazy when she found it was gone!” + </p> + <p> + Pickert had missed no one of the different expressions of anxiety and + tenderness that had crossed her placid face. “No—it hadn't turned up + when I left,” he replied; adding, with another stretch, quite as a matter + of course, “she had it all right, didn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Had it! Why, she's been nearly a week on it. I helped her all I could, + but her eyes gave out.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you would know it again if you saw it?” The stretch was cut short + this time. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'd know it—don't I tell you I helped her fix it?” + </p> + <p> + The detective turned suddenly and, with a thrust of his chin, rasped out: + “And if one, or both of you, pawned it somewhere round here, you could + remember that, too, couldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Martha drew back, her gentle eyes flashing: “Pawned it! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + The detective lunged toward her. “Just what I say. Now don't get on your + ear, Mrs. Munger.” He was the thorough bully now. “It won't cut any ice + with me or with Mr. Mangan. It didn't this morning or he wouldn't have + sent me down here. We want that mantilla and we got to have it. If we + don't there'll be trouble. If you know anything about it, now's the time + to say so. The woman you call Mrs. Stanton got all balled up this morning, + and couldn't say what she did with it. They all do that—we get half + a dozen of 'em every week. She's pawned it all right—what I want to + know is WHERE. Rosenthal's in a hole if we don't get it. If you've spent + the money, I've got a roll right here.” And he tapped his pocket. “No + questions asked, remember! All I want is the mantilla, and if it don't + come she'll be in the Tombs and you'll go with her. We mean business, and + don't you forget it!” + </p> + <p> + Martha turned squarely upon him—was about to speak—changed her + mind—and drawing up a chair, settled down upon it. + </p> + <p> + “You're a nice young man, you are!” she exclaimed, scornfully. “A very + nice young man! And you think that poor child is a thief, do you? Do you + know who she is and what she's suffered? If I could tell you, you'd never + get over it, you'd be that ashamed!” + </p> + <p> + She was not afraid of him; her army hospital experience had thrown her + with too many kinds of men. What filled her with alarm was his reference + to Lady Barbara. But for this uncertainty, and the possible consequences + of such a procedure, she would have thrown open her door and ordered him + out as she had done Dalton. Then, seeing that Pickert still maintained his + attitude—that of a setter-dog with the bird in the line of his nose—she + added testily: + </p> + <p> + “Don't stand there staring at me. Take a chair where I can talk to you + better. You get on my nerves. It's pawned, is it? Yes. I believe you, and + I know who pawned it. Dalton's got it—that's who. I thought so last + night—now I'm sure of it.” She was on her feet now, tearing at her + bonnet-string as if to free her throat. “He sneaked it out of that box on + the floor beside you, when she was hiding from him in her bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + Pickert retreated slightly at this new development; then asked sharply: + “Dalton! Who's Dalton?” + </p> + <p> + “The meanest cur that ever walked the earth—that's who he is. He's + almost killed my poor lady, and now she must go to jail to please him. Not + if I'm alive, she won't. He stole that mantilla! I'm just as sure of it as + I am that my name is Martha Munger!” + </p> + <p> + Pickert's high tension relaxed. If this new clew had to be followed it + could best be followed with the aid of this woman, who evidently hated the + man she denounced. She would be of assistance, too, in identifying both + the lace and the thief—and he had seen neither the one nor the other + as yet. So it was the same old game, was it?—with a man at the + bottom of the deal! + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the pawn-shops around here?” he asked, becoming suddenly + confidential. + </p> + <p> + “Not one of them, and don't want to,” came the contemptuous reply. “When I + get as low down as that, I've got a brother to help me. He'll be up here + himself to-night and will tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + Pickert had been standing over her throughout the interview, despite her + invitation to be seated. He now moved toward a seat, his hat still tilted + back from his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think this man you call Dalton stole it?” he asked, + drawing a chair out from the table, as though he meant to let her lead him + on a new scent. + </p> + <p> + “Come over here before you sit down and I'll tell you,” she exclaimed, + peremptorily. “Now take a look at that box. Now watch me lift the lid, and + see what you find,” and she enacted the little pantomime of the morning. + </p> + <p> + The detective stroked his chin with his forefinger. He was more interested + in Martha's talk about Dalton than he was in the contents of the box. “And + you want to get him, don't you?” he asked slyly. + </p> + <p> + “Me get him! I wouldn't touch him with a pair of tongs. What I want is for + him to keep out of here—I told him that last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, tell me what he looks like, so I can get him.” + </p> + <p> + “Like anybody else until you catch the hang-dog droop in his eyes, as if + he was afraid people would ask him some question he couldn't answer.” + </p> + <p> + “One of the slick kind?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for he's been a gentleman—before he got down to be a dog.” + </p> + <p> + “How old?” + </p> + <p> + “About thirty—maybe thirty two or three. You can't tell to look at + him, he's that battered.” + </p> + <p> + “Smooth-shaven—well-dressed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no beard nor mustache on him. I couldn't see his clothes. His + big cape-coat, buttoned up to his chin, hid them and his face, too. He had + a slouch-hat on his head with the brim pulled down when he went out.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say he's been living off of Mrs. Stanton since—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't say it. I said he was a cur and that she wouldn't go to jail + to please him—that's what I said. Now, young man, if you're through, + I am. I've got to get my work done.” + </p> + <p> + Pickert tilted his hat to the other side of his bullet head, felt in his + side pocket for a cigar, bit off the end, and spat the crumbs of tobacco + from his lips. + </p> + <p> + “You could put me on to the mantilla, couldn't you?—spot it for me + once I come across it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I could, the minute I clapped my eyes on it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a kind of lace shawl, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. All black—a big one with a frill around it and a tear in one + side—that's what she was mending. A good piece, I should think, + because it was so fine and silky. You could squash it up in one hand, it + was that soft. That's why she took such care of it, putting it back in + that box every night to keep the dust out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's the matter with your coming along with me?” + </p> + <p> + “And where are you going to take me?” + </p> + <p> + “To one or two pawn-shops around here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not going with you. If I go anywhere it will be up to + Rosenthal's. I'm getting worried. It's after three o'clock now. She's got + no money to get anything to eat. She'll come home dead beat out if she's + been hungry all this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's right on the way. We'll take in a few of the small shops, and + then we'll keep on up. There are two on Second Avenue, and then there's + Blobbs's, one of the biggest around here. The old woman gets a lot of that + kind of stuff and she'll open up when she finds out who wants to know. + I've done business with her—where does this fellow, Dalton, live?” + </p> + <p> + “Up on the East Side.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, we are all right. He will make for some fence where he is not + known. Come along.” + </p> + <p> + Martha hesitated for an instant, abandoned her decision, and retied her + bonnet-strings; she might find her mistress the quicker if she acceded to + his request. She stepped to the stove, examined the fire to see that it + was all right, added a shovel of coal and, with Pickert at her heels, + groped her way down the dingy stairs, her fingers following the handrail. + In the front hall she stopped to say to the janitress that she was going + to Rosenthal's and to tell Mrs. Stanton, when she came, that she was not + to leave the apartment again, as Mr. Carlin was coming to see her. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the corner of the next block, Pickert halted outside a + small loan-office, told her to wait, and disappeared inside, only to + emerge five minutes later and continue his walk with her up-town. The + performance was repeated twice, his last stop being in front of a gold + sign notifying the indigent and the guilty that one Blobbs bought, sold, + and exchanged various articles of wearing-apparel for cash or its + equivalent. + </p> + <p> + Martha eyed the cluster of balls suspended above the door, and occupied + herself with a cursory examination of the contents of the front window, to + none of which, she said to herself, would she have given house-room had + the choice of the whole collection been offered her. She was about to + march into the shop and end the protracted interview when Pickert flung + himself out. + </p> + <p> + “I'm on—got him down fine! Listen—see if I've got this right! + He wore a black cape-coat buttoned up close-that's what you told me, + wasn't it?—and a kind of a slouch-hat. Been an up-town swell before + he got down and out? That kind of a man, ain't he? Smooth-shaven, with a + droop in his eye—speaks like a foreigner—English. Somethin' + doin'!—Do you know a man named Kling who keeps an old-furniture + store up on Fourth Avenue?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know Kling and I don't want to know him. It will be dark, and + Rosenthal's 'll be shut up if I keep up this foolishness, and I'm going to + find my mistress. If you can't find Dalton, I will, when my brother + Stephen comes. Now you go your way and I'll go mine.” + </p> + <p> + He waited until she had boarded a car, then wheeled quickly and dashed up + Third Avenue, crossing 26th Street at an angle, forging along toward + Kling's. He was through with the old woman. She was English, and so was + Dalton, and so, for that matter, was a man who, Blobbs had told him, had + “blown in” at Kling's about a year ago from nobody knew where. They'd all + help one another—these English. No, he'd go alone. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Otto's window he slowed down, pulled himself together, and + strolled into the store with the air of a man who wanted some one to help + him make up his mind what to buy. The holiday crowd had thinned for a + moment, and only a few men and women were wandering about the store + examining the several articles. Otto at the moment was in tow of a stout + lady in furs, who had changed her mind half a dozen times in the hour and + would change it again, Otto thought, when, as she said, she would “return + with her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Vich she von't do,” he chuckled, addressing his remark to the newcomer, + “and I bet you she never come back. Dot's de funny ting about some vimmins + ven dey vant to talk it over vid her husbands, and de men ven dey vant to + see der vives. Den you might as vell lock up de shop—ain't dot so? + Vat is it you vant—one of dem tables? Dot is a Chippendale—you + can see de legs and de top.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see 'em,” replied the detective, scanning the circumference of + Otto's fat body. “But I'm not buying any tables to-day, I'm on another + lead—that is, if I've got it right and your name is Kling.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you got it right,” answered Otto; “dot's my name. Vat is it you + vant?” + </p> + <p> + “And you own this store?” + </p> + <p> + “And I own dis store. Didn't you see de sign ven you come in?” The man's + manner and cock-sure air were beginning to nettle him. + </p> + <p> + “I might, and then again, I mightn't,” Pickert retorted, relaxing into his + usual swaggering tone. “I'm not looking for signs. I'm looking for a piece + of lace, a mantilla they call it, that disappeared a few days ago from + Rosenthal's up here on Third Avenue—a kind of shawl with a frill + around it—and I thought you might have run across it.” + </p> + <p> + Otto looked at him over the tops of his glasses, his anger increasing as + he noticed the man's scowl of suspicion. “Oh, dot's it, is it? Dot's vat + you come for. You tink I am a fence, eh?” + </p> + <p> + The detective grinned derisively. “You bought a piece of lace, didn't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I buy a dozen pieces maybe—vot's dot your business?” + </p> + <p> + “My business will come later. What I want to know is whether you've got a + piece with a hole in it—black, soft, and squashy—with a frill—a + flounce, they call it—and I want to tell you right here that it will + be a good deal better if you keep a decent tongue in your head and stop + puttin' on lugs. It's business with me.” + </p> + <p> + Masie had crept up and stood listening, wondering at the stranger's rough + way of talking. So had the tramp, whom Kitty had loaned to Otto for a few + hours to help move some of the heavier furniture. He seemed to be + especially interested in what was taking place, for he kept edging up the + closer, dusting the Colonial sideboard close to which Kling and the man + were standing, his ears stretched to their utmost, in order to miss no + word of the interview. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, if it's business, and you don't mean noddin, dot's anudder ting,” + replied Kling, in a milder tone, “maybe den I tell you. Run avay, Masie, I + got someting private to say. Dot's right. You go talk to Mrs. Gossburger—Yes,” + he added, as the child disappeared, “I did buy a big lace shawl like dot.” + </p> + <p> + Pickert's grin covered half his face. He could get along now without a + search-warrant. “And have you got it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I got it now.” + </p> + <p> + The grin broadened—the triumphant grin of a boy when he hears the + click of a trap and knows the quarry is inside. + </p> + <p> + “Can I see it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you can't see it.” The man's cool persistency again irritated him. “I + buy dot for a present and I—Look here vunce! Vat you come in here + for an' ask dose questions? I never see you before. Dis is my busy time. + Now you put yourselluf outside my place.” + </p> + <p> + The detective made a step forward, turned his back on the rest of the + shop, unbuttoned his outer coat, lifted the lapel of the inner one, and + uncovered his shield. + </p> + <p> + “Come across,” he said, in low, cutting tones, “and don't get gay. I'm not + after you—but you gotter help, see! I've traced this mantilla down + to this shop. Now cough it up! If you've bought it on the level, I've got + a roll here will square it up with you.” + </p> + <p> + Otto gave a muffled whistle. “Den dot fellow vas a tief, vas he? He didn't + look like it, for sure. Vell—vell—vell—dot's funny! Vy, + I vouldn't have tought dot. Look like a quiet man, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You remember the man, then?” interrupted the detective, following up his + advantage, and again scraping his chin with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. I don't forgot him. Vore a buttoned-up coat—high like up + to his chin—” + </p> + <p> + “And a slouch-hat?” prompted Pickert. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, vun of dose soft hats, for I tink de light hurt his eyes ven he come + close up to my desk ven I gif him de money.” + </p> + <p> + “And had a sort of a catch-look, a kind of a slant in his eye, didn't he?” + supplemented Pickert; “and was smooth-shaven and—on the whole—rather + decent-looking chap, just getting on his uppers and not quite. Ain't that + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, maybe, I don't recklemember everyting about him. Vell—vell—ain't + dot funny? But he vasn't a dead beat—no, I don't tink so. An' he + stole it? You vud never tink dot to see him. I got it in my little office, + behind dot partition, in a drawer. You come along. To-morrow is New + Year's”—here he glanced up the stairs to be sure that Masie was out + of hearing—“and I bought dat lace for a present for my little girl + vat you saw joost now—she loves dem old tings. She has got more as a + vardrobe full of dem. Vait till I untie it. Look! Ain't dot a good vun? + And all I pay for it vas tventy tollars.” + </p> + <p> + The detective loosened the folds, shook out the flounce, held it up to the + light, and ran his thumb through the tear in the mesh. + </p> + <p> + “Of course dere's a hole—I buy him cheaper for dot hole—my + little Beesving like it better for dot. If it vas new she vouldn't have + it.” + </p> + <p> + Pickert was now caressing the soft lace, his satisfaction complete. “A + dead give-away,” he said at last. “Much obliged. I'll take it along,” and + he began rolling it up. + </p> + <p> + “You take it—VAT?” exclaimed Otto. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, it's stolen goods.” + </p> + <p> + Kling leaned over and caught it from his hand. “If it's stolen goods, + somebody more as you must come in and tell me dot. By Jeminy, you have got + a awful cheek to come in here and tell me dot! Ven I buy, I buy, and it is + mine to keep. Ven I sell, I sell, and dot's nobody's business.” + </p> + <p> + Pickert bit his lip. His bluff had failed. He must go about it in another + way, if Rosenthal's customer, who owned the lace, was to regain possession + before the New Year set in. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, sell it to me,” he snarled. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't sell it to you. Not if you give me tventy times tventy + tollars. And now you get out of here so k'vick as you can—or me and + dot man over by dot sideboard and two more down-stairs vill trow you out! + I don't care a tam how big a brass ting you got on your coat. So you dake + it along vid you? Vell, you have got a cheek!” + </p> + <p> + Pickert's underlip curled in contempt. He had only to step to the door and + blow a whistle were a row to begin. But that would neither help him to + trail the thief nor to secure the mantilla. + </p> + <p> + “Now see here, Mr. Kling,” he said, fingering the lapel of Otto's coat, + “I've treated you white, now you treat me white. You make me tired with + your hot air, and it don't go—see, not with me!—and now I'll + put it to you straight. Will you sell me that mantilla? Here's the money”—and + he pulled out a roll of bills. + </p> + <p> + Otto was now thoroughly angry. “NO!” he shouted, moving toward the door of + his office. + </p> + <p> + “Will you help put me on to the man who sold it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” roared Kling again, his Dutch blood at boiling-point. “I put you on + noddin—dot's your bis'ness, dis puttin' on, not mine.” He had walked + out of the office and was beckoning to the tramp. “Here, you! You go + down-stairs and tell Hans to come up k'vick—right avay.” + </p> + <p> + The tramp slouched up—a sliding movement, led by his shoulder, his + feet following. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, boss, I kin help if you don't mind my crowdin' in.” He had + listened to the whole conversation and knew exactly what would happen if + he carried out Kling's order. He had seen too many mix-ups in his time—most + of them through resisting an officer in the discharge of his duty. Kling, + the first thing he knew, would be wearing a pair of handcuffs, and he + himself might lose his job. + </p> + <p> + He addressed the detective: “I saw the guy when he come in and I saw him + when he went out. Mr. O'Day saw him, too, but he'd skipped afore he got on + to his mug. He'll tell ye same as me.” + </p> + <p> + The detective canted his head, looked the tramp over from his shoes to his + unkempt head, and turned suddenly to Kling. “Who's Mr. O'Day?” he snapped. + </p> + <p> + “He's my clerk,” growled Otto, his determination to get rid of the man + checked by this new turn in the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Can I see him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you can't see him, because he's gone out vid Kitty Cleary. He'll be + back maybe in an hour—maybe he don't come back at all. He don't know + noddin about dis bis'ness and nobody don't let him know noddin about it + until to-morrow. Den my little Beesving know de first. Half de fun is in + de surprise.” + </p> + <p> + The detective at once lost interest in Kling, and turned to the tramp + again—the two moving out of Otto's hearing. A new and fresh scent + had crossed the trail—one it might be wise to follow. + </p> + <p> + “You work here?” he asked. He had taken his measure in a glance and was + ready to use him. + </p> + <p> + “No, I work in John Cleary's express office,” grunted the tramp. “Mr. + O'Day wanted me to come over and help for New Year's.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he got to do with you?” + </p> + <p> + “He got me my job.” + </p> + <p> + “He's an Englishman, ain't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and the best ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, of course,” sneered the detective. “Been working here a year and + knows the ropes. So you saw the man come in and O'Day, the clerk, saw him + go out, did he? And O'Day sent for you to stay around in case any + questions were asked? Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + The tramp's lip was lifted, showing his teeth. “No, that ain't it by a + damned sight! I know who pinched the goods—knowed him for months. + Know his name, just as well as I know yours. I got on to you soon as you + come in.” + </p> + <p> + The detective shot a quick glance at the speaker. “Me?” he returned + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—YOU. Your name is Pickert—ONE of your names—you've + got half a dozen. And the guy's name is Stanton. He hangs out at the + Bowdoin House, and when he ain't there he's playin' pool at Steve Lipton's + where I used to work. Are you on?” + </p> + <p> + The detective betrayed no surprise, neither over the mention of his own + name nor that of Stanton. If the tramp's story were true he would have the + bracelets on the thief before morning. He decided, however, to try the old + game first. + </p> + <p> + “It may be worth something to you if you can make good,” he said, with a + confidential shrug of his near shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The tramp thrust out his chin with a gesture of disgust. “Nothin' doin'! + You can keep your plunks. I don't want 'em. I know you fellers—I got + onto your curves when I was on my uppers. When you can't get your flippers + on the right man you slip 'em on the first galoot you catch, and I want to + tell you right here that you can't mix Mr. O'Day in this business, for he + don't know nothin' about it, nor anything else that's crooked. I'll get + this man Stanton for you if the boss will let me out for an hour. Shall I + ask him?” + </p> + <p> + Pickert examined his finger-nails for a brief moment—one seemed in + need of immediate repairs—his mind all the while in deep thought. + The tramp might help or he might not. He evidently knew him, and it was + possible that he also knew Stanton, the name borne by the woman charged + with the theft; or the whole yarn might be a ruse to give the real thief a + tip, and thus block everything. Lipton's place he frequented, and the + Bowdoin House he could find. + </p> + <p> + “No, you stay here,” he broke out. “I'll get him.” + </p> + <p> + He walked back to the office, the tramp following. “I say, Mr. Kling!” he + called impudently. + </p> + <p> + Otto lifted his head. He had locked up the mantilla and had the key in his + pocket. For him the incident was closed. + </p> + <p> + “Vell?” replied Otto dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Does this man work over at Cleary's express?” + </p> + <p> + “He does. Vy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. I may want him later. And, say!” + </p> + <p> + “Vell,” again replied Otto. + </p> + <p> + “Git wise and surprise that little girl of yours with something else—she'll + never wear that mantilla. So long,” and he strode out of the store. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIII + </h2> + <p> + The short winter's day had run its course and a soft, aimless snow was + falling—each flake a lazy feather, careless of its fate. The store + windows were ablaze, and many of the houses on both sides of “The Avenue” + were alive with newly kindled gas-jets, the street-lamps shedding their + light over a broad highway blocked with slipping teams, their carts + crammed to the utmost with holiday freight. + </p> + <p> + A spirit of good-fellowship and unrestrained joyousness was everywhere. + When a team was stalled, two or three men put their shoulders to the + wheels; when a horse slipped and fell, a dozen others helped him to his + feet. Snowballs, thrown in good humor and received with a laugh, filled + the air. New York was getting ready to celebrate the night before New + Year's, the maddest night of all the year in old Manhattan, when groups of + merrymakers, carrying tin horns and jingling cow-bells, crowd the + sidewalks, singing and shouting, forming flying wedges, swooping down on + other wedges—strangers all—the whole ending in roars of + laughter and “Happy New Year's,” repeated again and again until the next + collision. + </p> + <p> + None of this roused Felix as, with heavy heart, he turned into Kitty's. Of + what the morrow would bring forth he dared not think. Father Cruse, he + knew, would do what he could to save Barbara, and the British consul—a + man he had always avoided—might help. But nothing of all this could + lighten his load or relieve his pain. She might be given her freedom for a + time, or she might be turned over to one of the reformatories for a term + of years—either course meant untold suffering to a woman reared as + his wife had been. These mental tortures of the day had burned their way + into his brain, as branding-irons burn into flesh, the agony seaming the + lines of his face and deep-hollowing the eyes, forming scars that might + take years to efface. + </p> + <p> + As his fingers gripped the knob of Kitty's outside office, shouts of + “Happy New Year” rang out from a group of girls showering each other with + snowballs. + </p> + <p> + “Pray God,” he said to himself, “that it be better than the one which is + passing,” and stepped inside, to find Kitty in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to talk to you,” he said, speaking as a man whose strength is + far spent. “And if you do not mind, I will ask you to go into the + sitting-room where we shall not be disturbed. I have something to say to + you. Will you be alone?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty gave a start. She knew at once that some new development had brought + him to her at this hour. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, not a soul but me. John and Bobby are up to the Grand Central, + Mike's bailed out, and yer tramp just come over from Otto's. They're + cleanin' out the stables. Is it some news ye have of her?” + </p> + <p> + “No—nothing more than you know. That must wait until to-morrow. + Nothing can be done to-night.” + </p> + <p> + She followed him into the room, dragged out a chair from against the wall, + waited until he had slipped off his mackintosh, and then seated herself + beside him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he repeated, passing his hand across his eyes as if to shut out some + haunting vision. “There is no news. She is in a cell, I suppose. My God, + what does it all mean!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, his head averted, staring straight ahead. + </p> + <p> + “You have been very kind to me, Mrs. Cleary, since I have been here—you + and your husband. You may not have realized it, but I do not think I could + have gone through the year without you—you and little Masie. I have + come to the end now, where no one can help. I have tried to carry it + through alone. I did not want to burden you with my troubles and—if + I could prevent it, I would not now, but you will know it sooner or later, + and I would rather tell you myself than have you hear it from strangers.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated for an instant, looked into her eyes, and said slowly: “The + woman you picked up in the street and who is now in prison, is my wife, or + was, until a year ago.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty neither moved nor spoke. The announcement did not greatly surprise + her. What absorbed her was the new, hard lines in his face, her wonder + being that such suffering should have fallen upon the head of a man who so + little deserved it. + </p> + <p> + “And is that what has been breakin' yer heart all these months ye lived + with us?” + </p> + <p> + Felix moved uneasily. “Yes. There has been nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “And she's the same one ye've been a-trampin' the streets to find?” + </p> + <p> + Felix bowed his head in assent. + </p> + <p> + “And ye kep' all this from me?” she asked, as a mother might reproach her + son. + </p> + <p> + “You could have done nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I could have comforted ye. That would have been somethin'. Did she leave + ye?” + </p> + <p> + Again Felix bowed his head in answer. The spoken words would only add to + his pain. + </p> + <p> + “For another man, was it?—Yes, I see—you twice her age, and + she a chit of a child. Ye can't do much for that kind once they get their + heads set—no matter how good ye are to them. And I suppose that when + I found her that night on the door-steps and brought her into the kitchen, + he'd turned her into the street. That's it, isn't it? And then she got to + stealin' to keep from starvin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so—I do not know. I only know she is a criminal. + That is shame enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that all ye came to tell me?” She was going to the bottom of it + now. This man was gripped in the tortures of the damned and could only be + helped when he had emptied out his heart—all of it, down to the very + dregs. + </p> + <p> + “No, there is something else. I wanted to speak to you about Masie. I may + go back to England in a few days and I am not satisfied to leave her + unprotected. She has no mother and you have no daughter—would you + look after her for me? I have learned to love her very dearly—and I + am greatly disturbed over her future and who is to look after her. Her + father will not listen to any plans I might make for her, nor will he take + proper care of her. He thinks he does, but he lets her do as she pleases. + She will be a woman in a very short time, and I shudder when I think of + the dangers which beset her. A shop like Kling's is no place for a child + like Masie.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty had turned pale when Felix announced his probable departure, + something to which she had not yet given a thought, but she heard him to + the end. + </p> + <p> + “I will do all I can for Masie, but that can wait. And now I'm goin' to + talk to ye as if ye were my John, and ye got to be patient with me, Mr. + O'Day. God knows I'd help ye in any way I could, but ye've got to help me + a little so I can help ye the better. May I go on?” + </p> + <p> + “Help! How can I help?” he asked listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “By trustin' me—and I can be trusted, and so can John. I found out + some months ago that ye were Sir Felix O'Day, but ye never heard me blab + it to any livin' soul, nor did John either—not even to Father Cruse. + I've watched ye go in and out all these months, and many a night, tired as + I was, I didn't get to sleep, worryin' about ye until I'd heard ye shut + yer door. Ye said nothin' to me and I could say nothin' to ye. I knew ye'd + tell me when the time come and it has, with ye nigh crazy, and she on her + way to Sing Sing. What she's been through since that night I brought her + here, I don't know—but she'd 'a' broke your heart if ye'd seen her + staggerin' weak, followin' me and John like a whipped dog. I thought then + she had got the worst of it, somehow, and that she hadn't deserved what + had been handed out to her, and John thought so, too. What it was I didn't + know, but I've got somebody now who does know and who will tell me the + truth, and I'm askin' ye to give it to me straight. If she was your wife + she must be a lady, for ye wouldn't 'a' married anybody else. And if she + was a lady, how has it happened that she is locked up in the Tombs, and + that a gentleman like ye is working at Otto's? And before ye answer, + remember that I'm not askin' for meself, but for you and the poor woman ye + tried to find to-day.” + </p> + <p> + His tired eyes had not left her own during the long outburst. He had never + doubted her sincerity nor her kindliness, but now, as he listened, there + stole over him a yearning, strange in one so habitually reticent, to share + with her the secret he had hidden all these months—except from + Father Cruse. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you shall know,” he answered, with a sigh of relief. “It is best + that somebody should know, and best of all that it should be you. But + first tell me how you found out that I could use my father's title—I + have never told anybody here.” + </p> + <p> + “An Englishman told me, who wanted his trunk taken to the steamer. He saw + you cross the street. 'That's Sir Felix O'Day,' he said, 'and he has had + more trouble than any man I ever knew.'” + </p> + <p> + “Did you check the trunk?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That explains how my solicitor in London, whom I have just heard from, + discovered my address. He mentioned a trunk-tag as his clew; he and the + Englishman evidently met. As to the title, it was of no use to me here. I + may use it now, at home, for he writes that there were several hundreds of + pounds sterling saved out of my own and my father's wreck, together with a + small cottage and a few acres of land near London. Had I known it, + however, before I came here, it would have made no difference, nor would + it have altered my plan. I had come here to find my wife, for I knew that + sooner or later she would be utterly stranded, without a human being to + whom she could appeal; but I never expected to find her a criminal. + Terrible! Terrible! I cannot yet take it in. Poor child! What is to become + of her, God only knows!” + </p> + <p> + He had risen, and in his agony walked to the window, his updrawn shoulders + tense, like those of a man standing by an open grave. He stood there for a + moment, Kitty silently watching him, until, with a deep sigh, he came back + to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I have been a fool, no doubt, to pursue this thing as I have, but there + seemed no other way. I could not have lived with myself afterward, if I + had not made the effort. I knew that you and your husband often wondered + at the life I led, and I have often thanked you in my heart for your + loyalty. It is but another one of the things that have made this home so + dear to me. I told Father Cruse what brought me to New York, so that he + could help me find her, and he has been more than kind. Many a night we + have tramped the streets together, or have searched haunts that either + she, or the man who ruined her, might frequent, or where we should meet + persons who had seen them, but so far, you are the only person who has + brought us near to each other. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you now because it is better that you and I should understand each + other before I sail, and because, too, you are a big, brave, true-hearted + woman who can and will understand. You may not think it, but you have been + a revelation to me, Mrs. Cleary—you and this home—and the + neighborhood, in fact, peopled with clean, wholesome men and women. It has + been a great lesson to me and a marvellous contrast to what had surrounded + me at home. You were right in your surmise that my wife is a lady, and + that I have been born a gentleman. And now I will tell you why we are both + here.” + </p> + <p> + Then, in broken words, with long pauses between, he told her the story of + his own and Lady Barbara's home life, and of Dalton's perfidy with all the + horror that had followed, Kitty's body bent forward, her ears drinking in + every word, her plump, ruddy hands resting in her lap, her heart throbbing + with sympathy for the man who sat there so calm and patient, stating his + case without bitterness, his anger only rising when he recounted the + incidents leading up to his wife's estrangement and denounced the man who + had planned her ruin. + </p> + <p> + Only when the tale was ended did she burst out: “And I ain't surprised yer + heart's broke! Ye've had enough to kill ye. The wonder to me is that ye're + walkin' around with yer head up and your heart not soured. I been thinkin' + and thinkin' all these months, and John and I have talked it over many a + night; but we never thought it was as bad as it is. And now I'm goin' to + ask ye a question and ye must tell me the truth. What are ye goin' to do + next?” + </p> + <p> + “See Father Cruse to-night and tell him what I have found out. He must do + the rest. I have gone as far as I dared, and can go no further. I must + draw the line at crime. In spite of it all, I would have gone down-stairs + to see her, had she not been sent away, but I am glad now that I did not. + She comes of a proud race and that would have been the last thing she + could have borne. As it is, she thinks I am in Australia, and it's better + that she should. She would have thought I had come to taunt her, and no + one could have undeceived her. I know her—and her wilfulness. Poor + child! She has always been her own worst enemy. And so, just as soon as I + learn what is to happen to her, I shall settle my account with the man who + has caused her ruin, and return to England—and I can go the easier, + and pick up my old life again the better, if I can be assured that you + will look after little Masie, and see that no harm comes to her.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty raised her hands from her lap and folded them across her bosom. “Let + me talk a little, will ye, Mr. O'Day? Ye needn't worry about Masie. I'll + take care of her—all that Kling will let me. I knew her mother, who + died when the child was born, and a fine woman she was—ten times as + good as Kling whom her father made her marry. But there's somebody else + who needs me, and who needs ye more than Masie needs us, and that's yer + wife. How do ye know her heart is not breakin' for somebody to say a kind + word to her? Are ye goin' home and leave her like this? That's not like + ye, and I don't want to hear ye say it. Do you mean that if she is put + away up the river, ye won't stay here and—” + </p> + <p> + “What for, to sit for five years waiting for her to come out? And what + then? Have you ever seen one reform?” + </p> + <p> + “And if she gets off, and wanders around the streets?” + </p> + <p> + “Father Cruse must answer that question.” + </p> + <p> + “But ye came all these miles to New York to pull her out of the mess she + had got into with that man who's ruined yer home, and ye out in the cold + without a cent—and ye forgave her for that—and now that she's + locked up with only herself to suffer, ye turn yer back on her and leave + her to fight it out alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not forgive HER, Mrs. Cleary,” he said in deliberate tones. “I + forgave her childish nature, remembering the way she had been educated; + remembering, too, that I was twice her age. Nor did I forget the poverty I + had brought upon her.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not forgive her this?” She could hardly restrain a sob as she + spoke. + </p> + <p> + His lips straightened and his brows narrowed. “This is not due to her + nature,” he answered coldly, “nor to her bringing up. She has now + committed a crime and is beyond reclaim. Once a thief, always a thief. I + must stop somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “But why not hear her story from her own lips?” she pleaded, her voice + choking. “YOU hear it—not Father Cruse, nor me, nor anybody but YOU, + who have loved her!” + </p> + <p> + Felix shook his head. “It is kinder for me to stay away. The very sight of + me would kill her.” His answer was final. + </p> + <p> + Kitty squared herself. “I don't believe it,” she cried, the tears now + coursing down her cheeks. “Oh, for the blessed God's sake don't say it—take + it back! Listen to me, Mr. O'Day. If she ever wanted a friend it's now. + I'd go meself but I'd do no good—nor nothin' I'd tell her would do + her any good. It's a man she wants to lean on, not a woman. I can almost + lift my John off his feet with one hand, but when I get into trouble I'm + just so much putty, runnin' to him like a baby, weak as a rag, and he + pattin' my cheek same as if I was a three-year-old. Go and get yer arms + around her and tell her ye don't believe a word of it, and that ye'll + stand by her to the end, and ye'll make a good woman of her. Turn yer back + on her, and they'll have her in potter's field if she gets out of this + scrape, for she can't fight long—she hasn't got the strength. + </p> + <p> + “She could hardly get up-stairs the night I put her to bed—she was + that tremblin', and she's no better to-day. Don't let yer pride shut up + yer heart, Mr. O'Day. You are a gentleman and ye've lived like one, and + ye've got your own and yer father's name to keep clean, and that poor + child has dragged it in the mud, and the papers will be full of it, and + the disgrace of it all dries ye up, and ye can go no further, and so ye + cut loose and let her sink. No, don't ye get angry with me—if ye + were my own John I'd tell ye the same. Listen—do ye hear them horns + blowin' and the children shoutin'? It's New Year's Eve—to-morrow all + the slates will be wiped clean—the past rubbed out and everybody'll + have a new start. Make a clean slate of yer own heart—wipe out + everything ye've got against that poor child. Take her in yer arms once + more—help her come back! If God didn't clean His own slate once in a + while and forgive us, none of us would ever get to heaven. Hush! Quiet + now! Somebody's just come into the office. I'll not let any one in to + disturb ye. Stay where ye are till I see. I hear a voice. WHAT! Well, as + I'm alive, it's Father Cruse—what's he come for at this hour? Shall + I let him in?” + </p> + <p> + Felix lifted himself slowly to his feet, as would a man in a hospital ward + who sees the doctor approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let him in; I was going to look him up.” He was relieved at the + interruption. Kitty's appeal had deeply stirred him, but had not swerved + him from his purpose. He had done his duty—all of it, to the very + last. The day's developments had ended everything. He had no right to + bring a criminal into his family. + </p> + <p> + Kitty swung wide the door and Father Cruse stepped in. He wore his heavy + cassock, which was flecked with snow, and his wide hat. + </p> + <p> + “My messenger told me you were here, Mr. O'Day,” he cried out, in a cheery + voice, “and I came at once. And, Mrs. Cleary, I am more than glad to find + you here as well.” + </p> + <p> + Felix stepped forward. “It was very good of you, Father. I was coming down + to see you in a few minutes.” They had shaken hands and the three stood + together. + </p> + <p> + The priest glanced in question at Kitty, then back again at Felix. “Does + Mrs. Cleary—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Cleary knows,” returned Felix calmly. “I have told her + everything. Lady Barbara—” he paused, the words were strangling him, + “has been arrested—for stealing—and is now in the Tombs + prison.” + </p> + <p> + Father Cruse laid his hand on O'Day's shoulder. “No, my friend, she is not + in the Tombs. I took her to St. Barnabas's Home and put her in charge of + the Sisters.” + </p> + <p> + Felix straightened his back. “You have saved her from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, two hours ago. And she can stay there until the matter is settled, + or just as long as you wish it.” His hand was still on O'Day's shoulder, + his mind intent on the drawn features, seamed with the furrows the last + few hours had ploughed. He saw how he had suffered. + </p> + <p> + Felix stretched out his hand as if to steady himself, motioned the priest + to a chair, and sank into his own. + </p> + <p> + “In the Sisters' Home,” he repeated mechanically, after a moment's + silence. Then rousing himself: “And you will see her, Father, from time to + time?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, every day. Why do you ask such a question—of me, in + particular?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied Felix slowly, “I may be away—out of the country. + I have just asked Mrs. Cleary to look after Masie and she has promised she + will. And I am going to ask you to look after my poor wife. They must be + very gentle with her—and they should not judge her too harshly.” He + seemed to be talking at random, thinking aloud rather than addressing his + companions. “Since I saw you I have received a letter from my solicitor. + There is some money coming to me, he says, and I shall see that she is not + a burden to you.” + </p> + <p> + The priest turned abruptly, and laid a firm hand on O'Day's knee. “But you + will see her, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is better that you act for me. She will not want to see me in her + present condition.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty was about to protest, when Father Cruse waved her into silence. “You + certainly cannot mean what you have just said, Mr. O'Day?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + The priest rose quickly, passed though the kitchen, and opened the door + leading to the outer office. Two women stood waiting, one in a long cloak, + the other clinging to her arm, her face white as chalk, her lips + quivering. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said the priest. + </p> + <p> + Martha put her arm around Lady Barbara and led her into the room. + </p> + <p> + Felix staggered to his feet. + </p> + <p> + The two stood facing each other, Lady Barbara searching his eyes, her + fingers tight hold of Martha's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Don't turn away, Felix,” she sobbed. “Please listen. Father Cruse said + you would. He brought me here.” + </p> + <p> + No answer came, nor did he move, nor had he heard her plea. It was the + bent, wasted figure and sunken cheeks, the strands of her still beautiful + hair in a coil about her neck, that absorbed him. + </p> + <p> + Again her eyes crept up to his. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so tired, Felix—so tired. Won't you please take me home to my + father—” + </p> + <p> + He made a step forward, halted as if to recover his balance, wavered + again, and stretched out his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Barbara! BARBARA!” he cried. “Your home is here.” And he caught her in + his arms. + </p> + <p> + END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Felix O'Day, by F. 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