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+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, 2004 [EBook #5229]
+Posting Date: March 28, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FELIX O'DAY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Duncan Harrod
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FELIX O'DAY
+
+By F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+At this moment a knock startled him.
+
+"Come in," he called, covering the case with a corner of the cotton
+quilt.
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I am sorry to hear about the foot. That must be even worse than my
+being behind with your rent."
+
+"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."
+
+"Did you suppose I would let you?"
+
+"Let me what?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Have you met any of them on the stairs?" he inquired blandly.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, dot is my name. Vot can I do for you?"
+
+"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."
+
+Kling glanced sharply at the intruder. "I don't keep open often so late
+like dis. You must come in de morning."
+
+"Cannot you look at it now?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Is it yours to sell?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Your sign said advances made."
+
+"Vich vun?"
+
+"The one in the window, or I would not have troubled you."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I would not either if I had the courage to look at myself in the glass.
+Then you cannot help me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Then I will come in the morning?"
+
+"Yes, but give me your name--someting might happen yet, and your
+address. Here, write it on dis card."
+
+"No, that is unnecessary. I will take your word for it."
+
+"But vere can I find you?"
+
+"I will find myself, thank you," and he strode out into the rain.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"I left a dressing-case here last night," ventured the intruder.
+
+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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I'm from Lifford, within reach of it. How the divil did ye know?"
+
+"I can tell from your brogue. How long have you been in this country?"
+
+"About five years--going on six now. How long have you been here?"
+
+"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.
+
+"No, so ye don't let go of 'em. Fellow come in here last week and broke
+a teapot foolin' wid it."
+
+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.
+
+"Vell, I didn't tink dot ven I bought it."
+
+There was no greeting, no reference to their having met before. One
+might have supposed that their last talk had been uninterrupted.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Very sure."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"From the mark."
+
+"Vot's it vorth?"
+
+"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."
+
+Kling stepped nearer and peered intently at the stranger. "You give dot
+for dem?"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Two dollars. Vas it too much?" The stranger had suddenly become an
+important personage.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"He won't hurt you," cried the child. "Come back, you naughty Fudge!"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"I am afraid I do, and I am glad you do--they are sometimes the best
+friends one has."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"The legs--that is, three of them--are Chippendale. The back is a
+nondescript of something--I cannot tell. Perhaps from some colonial
+remnant."
+
+"Vot's it vorth?"
+
+"Nothing, except to sit upon."
+
+Otto laughed--a gurgling, chuckling laugh, his pudgy nose wrinkling like
+a rabbit's.
+
+"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?"
+
+"That will be enough for a week, after I pay what I owe."
+
+"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.
+
+"Eight dollars with my meals, whenever my landlady is on time."
+
+"Eight dollars! Dot voman's robbin' you. Eight dollars! She is a skin!"
+
+"It was the best I could do," he replied simply.
+
+"Vot does she give you?"
+
+"A small bedroom, my coffee in the morning, and my dinner--both served
+in my room on a tray."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"VOT!"
+
+"No, I have never been in your line of trade."
+
+"Vell, how do you know so much?"
+
+"I know very little, but I have always enjoyed such things."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Lowestoft?" suggested the stranger, adjusting the mouthpiece of his
+pipe.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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--?"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+"Say the rest, Skeesicks," returned the boy, eying the stranger.
+
+"Has your mudder got empty dot room yet?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"No, I don't got nudding you can do for me, Kitty. It's dis gentlemans
+wants someting--and so I bring him over."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"I don't care where it is--Hoboken, Brooklyn--I'll get it. Why, we got a
+trunk last week clear from Yonkers!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why not?" She was serious now, her brows knitting, trying to solve his
+meaning.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+"I wanted it."
+
+"Yes, but who for?"
+
+"For myself."
+
+"What! To live in?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"I am sorry."
+
+"And it's only five dollars a week, and all ye want to eat--all we can
+give ye."
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+"I have just borrowed twenty-five dollars from Mr. Kling on something
+which, for the present, I can do without."
+
+"Pawned it?"
+
+"No, not exactly. Mr. Kling will explain."
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+Once more his hand was raised, and a smile flashed from his eyes and as
+quickly died out.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+"I can hist the two of ye, John! Go along wid ye!"
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"John, dear, here's a gentleman who--what's your name?--ye haven't told
+me, or if ye did I've forgot it."
+
+"Felix O'Day."
+
+"Then you're Irish?"
+
+"I am afraid I am--at least, my ancestors were."
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"You do, and welcome, and somethin' in the middle of the day if ye
+happen to be around and hungry."
+
+"And can I move in to-day?"
+
+"Ye can."
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No, I don't!"
+
+"Den, by golly, I take him on, und I gif him every veek vat he pay you
+in board."
+
+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!"
+
+"Vell, but I don't know vat he is vurth yet."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Vell--vait on de customers, and look over de stock, and buy tings ven
+dey come in."
+
+"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.
+
+"But you is a different kind of a mans."
+
+No answer came. The man was lost in thought.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+Kitty relaxed her hold of his wrist. "Then ye have been lookin' for
+work?" she asked. The inquiry sprang hot from her heart.
+
+"I have not, so far, but I shall have to very soon."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Vot you mean?"
+
+"How early must I come in the morning, and until how late must I stay at
+night?"
+
+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."
+
+"And at night?"
+
+"Vell--you can't tell. Sometimes it is more late as udder times--about
+nine o'clock ven I have packing to do."
+
+O'Day shook his head.
+
+"Vell, den, say eight o'clock."
+
+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?"
+
+Kitty nodded. She was too interested in this new phase of the situation
+to speak.
+
+"Yes, seven would have to be the hour, Mr. Kling" said O'Day.
+
+"Vell, make it seven o'clock, den."
+
+"And if," he continued in a still more serious voice, "I should on
+certain days--absent myself entirely, would that matter?"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I'll never take me eyes off it. I bet ye niver bought that down on the
+Bowery from a Johnny-hand-me-down!"
+
+"And, Mike!"
+
+"Yes, sor?"
+
+"Will you please say to Mrs. Cleary that I may not be in to-night before
+eleven o'clock?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"And you aren't comin' back, sir?" remarked the landlady, who had
+listened for his steps.
+
+"That, madame, one never can tell."
+
+"Well, you are always welcome."
+
+"Thank you--good-by."
+
+"Good-by, sir; my husband's out or he would like to shake your hand."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good evening, Carlin; I hoped you would still be up. I stopped on the
+way down or I should have been here earlier."
+
+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?"
+
+"No; have you?"
+
+"Not a word," answered the ship-chandler gravely.
+
+"I thought perhaps you might have had a letter," urged Felix.
+
+"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.
+
+"Do you think anything is the matter?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But she would have let you KNOW?" There was a ring of anxiety now,
+tinged with a certain impatience.
+
+"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'?"
+
+"Yes." This came as the mere stating of a fact.
+
+"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.
+
+"No, not the slightest clew."
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+"And you are goin' to keep it up, Mr. Felix?"
+
+"Yes, until I know the end or reach my own."
+
+"Well, then, God's help go with ye!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Say, I want you to give me the price of a meal."
+
+Felix tightened his hold on the stick. The words had conveyed a threat.
+
+"This is no place for you to beg. Step out where people can see you."
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+The man dragged himself to his feet.
+
+"Ever since I lost my job." The question had calmed him. There was a
+note of hope in it.
+
+"What work did you do?"
+
+"I'm a plumber's helper."
+
+"Work stopped?"
+
+"No, a strike--I wouldn't quit, and they fired me."
+
+"What happened then?"
+
+"She went away."
+
+"Who went away?"
+
+"My wife."
+
+"When?"
+
+"About a month back."
+
+"Did you beat her?"
+
+"No, there was another man."
+
+"Younger than you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How old was she?"
+
+"Eighteen."
+
+"A girl, then."
+
+"Yes, if you put it that way. She was all I had."
+
+"Have you seen her since?"
+
+"No, and I don't want to."
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+Felix gripped his wrist. "Pull yourself together and keep still."
+
+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.
+
+"No, thank you, officer. Only a friend of mine who needs a little
+looking after. I'll take care of him."
+
+"All right, sir," and he passed on down the narrow street.
+
+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."
+
+"They won't let me in."
+
+"I'll take care of that."
+
+Felix entered first. "What is there hot this time of night, barkeeper?"
+
+"Frankfurters and beans, boss."
+
+"Any coffee?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"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.
+
+"Forty cents change, boss."
+
+"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.
+
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"No, Mrs. Cleary. I will go to bed, if you do not mind."
+
+"Oh, but the coffee will put new life into ye, and--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Felix thanked her for her attention in his simple, straightforward way,
+and, closing the door upon her, dropped into a chair.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, whose eggs were they?" John had inquired, half asleep by the
+stove, his tired legs outstretched, the evening paper dropping from his
+hand.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I see an old gold frame in your window," began the new customer. "Might
+I measure it?"
+
+"Which one, sir?" replied Felix. "There are half a dozen of them, I
+believe."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You're sure it's thirty?" repeated the painter.
+
+"Yes, sir, thirty," and she crept back and laid the rule in O'Day's
+hand.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"By cracky, you're right! How long since you were there?"
+
+"Oh, some five years now."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix laughed gently. "No, I wish she were. She is Mr. Kling's child."
+
+"And your name?"
+
+"O'Day."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"And I'll take Fudge," the child cried, "and we'll stop at Gramercy
+Park."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Masie was never tired of watching these changes, her wonder and delight
+increasing as the season progressed.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+Masie looked up into his thoughtful face. "Do you think the iron hurts
+it, Uncle Felix?" she asked with a sigh.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder; it would me," he faltered.
+
+"But it wasn't the vine's fault, was it?"
+
+"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!"
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Dry up, you old varnish pot!" shouted Ganger, "how do you know I won't
+pay for it?"
+
+"Because your picture will never be hung--that's why!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"I think her dress is beautiful, Uncle Felix," whispered Masie.
+
+"Do you, sweetheart? Well, then, maybe I might better look again. What
+else have you in the way of Costumes, Mr. Ganger?"
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Well, wait here; I won't be a minute."
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+"And mine from Cork," laughed the priest as he waved his hand toward his
+empty chair, adding: "Let me move it nearer the table."
+
+"No, I will take my old seat, if you do not mind. Please do not move,
+Mr. Cleary; I am near enough."
+
+"And are you an importation, Father, like myself?" continued Felix,
+shifting the rocker for a better view of the priest.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+"But Sunday is my holiday."
+
+"Yes, and there's early mass. Ye'd think he'd come, wouldn't ye,
+Father?"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Oh, no, we have a service very often at night, sometimes at eight
+o'clock."
+
+"And how long does that last?"
+
+"Perhaps an hour."
+
+"And so if I should come at eight and wait until you are free, you could
+give me, perhaps, another hour of yourself?"
+
+"Yes, and with the greatest pleasure. But why at those hours?" asked the
+priest with some curiosity.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Here are some of them," answered the priest, his forefinger pointing to
+Kitty and John.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"And are there no others, Father Cruse?"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"What? His letters?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He don't have any--not one since he's been wid us."
+
+"Anybody come to see him?"
+
+"Niver a soul."
+
+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."
+
+Again he ruminated, the delicate antennae of his hands meeting each
+other at the tips.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"What do you mean by crooked. John?" asked the priest.
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+The priest kept silent, waiting until the slight family squall--never
+very long nor serious between John and Kitty--had spent itself.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"I do--up to the handle-and I don't care who knows it!"
+
+"Then I would not worry, John Cleary, if I were you."
+
+"Well, what does she know about it, Father?"
+
+"What every good woman always knows about every good man. And now I must
+go."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+"Yes, seventeenth century, I think," replied Tim.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Did you say you thought it was seventeenth century, Mr. Kelsey?" Felix
+asked thoughtfully.
+
+"Yes, I should say so."
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"I might, or I might not. Only a few people about here, so I understand,
+can appreciate this sort of thing."
+
+"What is it worth?" He was still eying him closely. People who praised
+his things were those who never wanted to buy.
+
+"Not very much," replied Felix.
+
+"Oh, but I thought you said it was very rare?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+"Next Saturday."
+
+"Why next Saturday?"
+
+"Because then I'm eleven years old, and you know that a great many fairy
+princesses are never any older."
+
+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!"
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+Her face fell. "Don't let's tell him! Let's have a surprise."
+
+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!"
+
+Masie rubbed her cheek up and down that of Felix in disapproval. "No,
+you wouldn't be so mean to poor Popsy."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Felix made a wry fate. "Suppose he sends me about my business?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix smothered a smile. "Certainly, why not?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"And now for Masie's idea, Mr. Kling."
+
+"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?"
+
+"She is to have a birthday. She will be eleven years old next Saturday."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Here, in this very place," broke in Felix, "after I get it in order."
+
+Kling, gently freeing himself from Masie's hold, stared at his clerk.
+"Dot vill cost a lot of money, don't it?"
+
+"No, I do not think so."
+
+"Vell, who is coming? De childer all around?"
+
+"Everybody is coming--big, little, and middle-sized," answered Felix.
+The cat was all out of the bag now.
+
+"Vell, dot's vot I said. You don't can get someting for nodding. You
+must have blenty to eat and drink."
+
+"No. Some simple refreshment will do--sandwiches, cake, and some
+ice-cream. I'll take care of that myself, if you'll permit me."
+
+"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."
+
+Felix broke into a hearty, ringing laugh--one of the few either Masie or
+his employer had ever heard escape his lips.
+
+"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."
+
+"And you say everybody is comin'. Who is dot everybody?"
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+On his way down he met the deaf Gossburger coming up.
+
+"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?"
+
+The old woman recounted the details as best she could.
+
+"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?"
+
+The old woman nodded.
+
+Kling turned suddenly, went down-stairs with his head up and shoulders
+back, called Hans to keep shop, and put on his hat.
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+As for these two castaways, when they did enter the gorgeous room on the
+eventful night they fairly bubbled over.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+Kling and Kitty were now beckoned to and placed on the left of the
+throne, Felix taking up his position on the right.
+
+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.
+
+Felix raised his hand to command supreme silence.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Come, folks and neighbors, everybody have a glass of beer with me!"
+shouted Bundleton.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"All together, men!" shouted Codman, and it was picked up bodily,
+whirled into position, dusted off in a jiffy, and ready for use.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Everything had now broken loose.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+So loud were the laughter and chatter, the good nights and good-bys,
+that big Tom McGinniss moved over from the opposite curb.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+Felix looked down at him for a moment, turned, and with lightened steps
+continued his walk.
+
+"Well, thank God," he said as he neared "The Avenue," "Masie was happy
+one night in her life."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+That which did please him--please him immensely--was the outcome of a
+visit made some days after the party by old Nat Ganger.
+
+"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!
+
+"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."
+
+He had unwrapped the canvas by this time, and was holding it to the
+light of the window that Felix might see it better.
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"If you buy the picture, I'll throw in the ancient Roman," and he laid
+it on the counter.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Very lovely," he said at last, "and a marvellous paten. Where did you
+get it?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix shook his head, a smile playing about his lips.
+
+"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."
+
+"And you'll write the note?"
+
+"Is that necessary?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix laughed. "Yes, just as soon as you go."
+
+"And you won't hold on to the bronze?"
+
+"No, I won't hold on to the bronze."
+
+"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."
+
+"I cannot say positively, but I will try."
+
+"All right. And now where's that darling child?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Masie had reached the floor and was running toward him with her hands
+extended, Fudge springing in front.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+The child's eyes dilated.
+
+"What sort of a party?"
+
+"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."
+
+The child's brow clouded. "Everybody who belongs? Why, can't Uncle Felix
+come?"
+
+"Certainly, he can come. He 'belongs.'"
+
+"And--Fudge?"
+
+"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."
+
+Masie rolled her eyes.
+
+"And you don't take her with you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"'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."
+
+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.
+
+"And where is all this to take place, Mr. Ganger?" Felix asked at last.
+
+"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."
+
+Again Felix broke in.
+
+"I have not a doubt of it, but when is all this to take place?"
+
+Ganger gave a little start and grew suddenly grave.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+When she had disappeared, the old fellow leaned forward, gazed knowingly
+at Felix, and in soft-pedal tones said:
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+The man leaned forward and peered into the case.
+
+"That's a picture of the Palisades, isn't it?" He had ignored the fans.
+
+"Yes, so I understand."
+
+"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?"
+
+"It will be when it's cleaned and varnished and I have it framed."
+
+"Belong to you?"
+
+"No; it belongs to a man who has left it for sale. He went out as you
+came in."
+
+"What does he want for it?"
+
+"He would be satisfied with ten dollars, even less, because he needs the
+money. I want fifty."
+
+"You want to make the rest?"
+
+"No, it all goes to him."
+
+"Well, what do you stick it on for?"
+
+"Because if it isn't worth that, it isn't worth anything."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Dear Mr. Dogger:
+
+"I have just sold your Palisade picture for fifty dollars. The amount is
+at your service whenever you call.
+
+"Yours truly,
+
+               "Felix O'Day."
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+At which the old painter took himself off in high glee.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Go on wid ye! Drive on, I tell ye!" she cried, opening fire on the
+driver.
+
+"Gentleman wants to--"
+
+"Well, I don't care what the gentleman wants. This stuff's got to go
+aboard that wagon."
+
+Here the passenger's head was thrust forward.
+
+"Can you--"
+
+"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?"
+
+The hansom was backed its full length, the passenger watching Kitty's
+movements with evident amusement.
+
+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.
+
+The passenger craned his head again.
+
+"I am staying in Gramercy Park, and want--"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Why shouldn't I? I been at it these twenty years."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Go on," smiled Kitty, "I'm waitin'."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"It is--clear as mud--and they'll be on time. And now, who's to pay?"
+
+"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."
+
+Felix nodded a good morning to Kitty and, with an alert, quick stride
+crossed the sidewalk diagonally, and bent his steps toward Kling's.
+
+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.
+
+"He is, and pays his rent like one."
+
+"Rent? For what?" The customer seemed completely at sea.
+
+"For my up-stairs room. He's my lodger and I never had a better."
+
+The Englishman caught his breath. "Do you know who he is?" he asked
+cautiously.
+
+"Of course I do! Do you happen to know him?" John had moved up now and
+stood listening.
+
+"Not personally, but, unless I am very much mistaken, that is Sir Felix
+O'Day."
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Will ye tell Father Cruse?" he persisted.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I do." He hesitated, another question struggling to his lips, and then
+added: "What's up wid him, do ye think, Kitty?"
+
+"I don't know, John, dear. I wish I did, but whatever it is, its
+breakin' his heart."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XI
+
+
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Only a difference in patrons," chimed in Lockwood, "the difference
+between a pope and a doge."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"When you say 'listen,'" asked Felix, whose attention to the
+conversation had never wavered, "do you refer to the confessional?"
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+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?"
+
+Felix bowed his head in acquiescence. The others, knowing what a story
+from Silas meant, craned their necks in his direction.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"At the bursting in of the door the brute wheeled and, with an oath,
+made straight for the priest, the weapon in his fist.
+
+"The priest stepped clear of the door-jamb, moved under the single
+gas-jet, drew out his crucifix, and held it up.
+
+"The drunkard stood staring.
+
+"The priest advanced step by step. The brute cowered, staggered back,
+and fell in a heap on the floor."
+
+"Magnificent," broke out Lockwood. "Superb! And well told. You would
+make a great actor, Murford."
+
+"Perhaps," answered Silas with a reproving look, "but don't forget that
+it HAPPENED."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Felix started forward. "You surely don't mean Father Cruse of St.
+Barnabas's?" he exclaimed eagerly.
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Was it he who burst in that door?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"What is it? A cuff button?" he asked, controlling his disappointment
+but biding his time.
+
+"Yes, and a good one."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+Felix held the sleeve-links to the light, smothered a cry and, with a
+quick movement of his hands, steadied himself by the table.
+
+"Where did you get this?" he breathed rather than spoke.
+
+"I just told ye. Down behind the bureau where ye dropped it, along with
+your hair-brush."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"And ye're sure ye didn't drop it?" she reiterated.
+
+"Quite sure," he answered slowly, his face still in the shadow, the link
+still in his hand.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix nodded, his eyes still fastened on her own. A nod was better than
+the spoken word until his voice obeyed him the better.
+
+"An' ye ain't had a soul in that room but yerself since ye've been here?
+Is that true?"
+
+Again Felix nodded.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"What else could we do? Leave the poor thing out in the cold and wet?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Felix's sheltering hand sagged suddenly, exposing for a moment his
+strained face and wide-open eyes.
+
+"I didn't understand it was a woman," he stammered, turning his head
+still farther from the light of the lamp.
+
+"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.
+
+"'What are you doin', Tom?' says John.
+
+"'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'.'
+
+"'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.
+
+"'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.'
+
+"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.'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Good night, Mrs. Cleary," and he left the room.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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?
+
+At this mental question, the more practical side of his nature came to
+the fore.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+She steadied herself for a moment, and became conscious of Felix, who
+had risen, horror-stricken, from his seat.
+
+"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?"
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You remember me?" he said in a hoarse, constrained voice when the
+priest turned and faced him.
+
+"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.
+
+"I have come as I promised you I would. Can you give me half an hour?"
+
+"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."
+
+Felix looked at him steadily. "Do such things happen often?" he asked,
+his voice breaking.
+
+"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.
+
+Felix drew back his shoulders as if to brace himself the better and
+said: "Can we talk here?"
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+"Not the slightest."
+
+For a moment he sat with head bowed, one hand pressed to his forehead.
+The priest waited, saying nothing.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Go on," he said gently and firmly. "As priest or man, Mr. O'Day, I am
+ready."
+
+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.
+
+"It is about my wife."
+
+The words seemed to choke him, as if the grip of a long-held silence had
+not yet quite relaxed its hold.
+
+"Not ill, I hope?"
+
+"No, she is not ill."
+
+The priest leaned forward, a startled look on his face. "You surely
+don't mean she is dead?"
+
+O'Day did not answer.
+
+Father Cruse settled back into the depths of his chair. "She has left
+you, then," he said in a conclusive tone.
+
+"Yes--a year ago."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+The touch of the priest had steadied him. "Thank you, Father," he said
+simply, and went on.
+
+"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."
+
+Father Cruse raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+Father Cruse drew his chair closer and laid his hand soothingly on
+O'Day's knee.
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix pondered. "Well, when Lady Barbara left she had--"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+Father Cruse again laid his quieting fingers this time on Felix's wrist.
+
+"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--"
+
+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."
+
+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--"
+
+O'Day sprang from his chair and stood over the priest. The suggestion
+had come as a blow.
+
+"I will take her back!"
+
+The priest looked up in astonishment. "Yes, is it not so?"
+
+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."
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+Felix moved impatiently, like one combating a physician's cheering
+words. "It must have been she, who else could have dropped the
+sleeve-link?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Felix stood musing. He had reached the limit of the help he had come
+for.
+
+"And what can I do to assist?"
+
+"Nothing. Go home, and when I need you I will send word. Good night."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+
+
+Had Felix continued his visits to Stephen Carlin's shop, he might have
+escaped many sleepless hours and saved himself many weary steps.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+
+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."
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"No, but she will be in a few minutes; she's often late, she waits until
+it's dark."
+
+"How long has she been here with you?"
+
+"About two weeks."
+
+"Two weeks! You didn't tell me that."
+
+"She wouldn't let me. She is having trouble enough and I have to do
+pretty much as she wants."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Mr. Felix won't hurt her," he rejoined sharply.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"'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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Don't hurry, my child. It's a hard climb, I know. Give me the box. I
+began to get worried. Are you tired?"
+
+"A little. It has been a long day." She sighed as she passed into the
+room, the nurse following with a large pasteboard box.
+
+"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.
+
+"And please bring me my slippers. I have walked all the way home, and my
+poor feet ache."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"Your brother, you mean? The one who lives here in New York?" she asked
+listlessly.
+
+"Yes, he's never forgotten you. And--"
+
+"Some day I will see him, Martha. I shall be better soon, and then--"
+
+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."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, it all comes back to me now," she answered dreamily "six years--is
+it not more than that?"
+
+"No, your ladyship. Just about six."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+She threw back her head quickly. "Not my Father?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, there are always kind people in the world."
+
+"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--"
+
+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."
+
+"But, your ladyship, I've got something to tell you which--"
+
+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--"
+
+Stephen's voice rang out clear. "Not say anything more, when--"
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The rest of her sad story came by fits and starts.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I will change my dress," she had answered firmly, speaking slowly to
+hide her terror. She was Lord Carnavon's daughter now.
+
+"No, I tell you, Barbara--I--"
+
+There was something in her eyes that told him he had reached the limit
+of her forbearance. Beyond that there was danger.
+
+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.
+
+Ten minutes later Martha's arms were about her, and she sobbing on her
+old nurse's shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XV
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+She had the mass of blonde hair in her fingers now, the comb in hand
+prepared to straighten out the tangle.
+
+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."
+
+"I have told it, my lady."
+
+"And you are keeping nothing back?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+The thin hand crept out and grasped the nurse's wrist.
+
+"Then you are sure your brother does not despise me, Martha?"
+
+"MY LADY! How can you say such a thing!" exclaimed Martha, dropping the
+comb.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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?"
+
+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?
+
+"He meant Mr. Felix, and if you had only listened, my lady, he would
+have--"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Yes, I heard about it in Ostend when--" She did not finish the
+sentence.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+The wasted figure lifted itself from the pillow and sat bolt upright.
+
+"MARTHA! What do you mean!"
+
+"Yes, right here in New York, my lady."
+
+"It isn't so!" Her hands were now clutching Martha's shoulders. "Tell me
+it isn't so! It can't be so!"
+
+"It's the blessed God's truth, every word of it! He and Stephen have
+been looking for you day and night."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"No, it's not you he wants to kill," she said firmly, when the trembling
+figure was still.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+She faced the nurse again. "You won't let him come here, will you,
+Martha?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"But you must not let him come," she burst out.
+
+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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"And if he comes, Martha," she asked in a low, resigned voice, "what
+will happen then?"
+
+"He'll get you out of this--take you where you needn't work the soul out
+of you."
+
+"Pay for my support, you mean?" she asked, with a certain dignity.
+
+"Of course; why not?"
+
+"Never--NEVER! I will never touch a penny of his money--I would rather
+starve than do it!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XVI
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Drawing out a chair from a table, he sat down and ran his eye over the
+interior.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The waiter looked at him dubiously. "Ain't you goin' to order nothin'?"
+
+"Not yet--perhaps not at all. Do you object to my smoking here?"
+
+"Don't object to nothin', but this ain't no place to warm up in, see!"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Nasty night," he began. "Had a lot of this weather this month. Never
+see a December like it."
+
+"Yes, a bad night. Your servant seemed to think I was in the way. Are
+you the proprietor?"
+
+"Well, I am one of them. Why?"
+
+"Nothing--only I hoped to find you more hospitable."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No, not immediately."
+
+"Looking for any one?"
+
+Felix gave a slight start and, from under his narrowed lids, shot one of
+his bull's-eye flashes.
+
+The man caught the flash and, misinterpreting it, bent down and said in
+a hoarse whisper: "Come from the central office, don't you?"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Got to ask ye to move a little, sir," he said in apology.
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+Felix studied him closely. "I do not think I do," he answered, frowning
+slightly.
+
+"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."
+
+O'Day's brow relaxed. "Yes, now I do. You are the man whose wife left
+him, and who tried to steal my watch."
+
+"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."
+
+Felix's lip curled and an amused expression drifted over his face. His
+jaws set, the muscles forming little ridges about his ears.
+
+"I will attend to that later," he said, in a firm voice. "Keep on with
+your work."
+
+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:
+
+"What sort of a place is this--a restaurant?"
+
+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.
+
+"Downstairs--yes," he returned in a low voice. "Upstairs--in the
+rear--across a roof--" He glanced again at the group and stopped.
+
+"A gambling house?"
+
+"No--a pool-room. That's why I give ye the tip."
+
+Felix ruminated, the man polishing vigorously. "What kind of people come
+here?"
+
+"The kind ye see--and crooks."
+
+"Do you know them all?"
+
+"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."
+
+Again Felix ruminated. "Women ever come here?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Any others?"
+
+"You mean fancies?"
+
+"No--straight, decent women, who may live around here and who come
+regularly in for their meals."
+
+"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."
+
+"Have you come across your wife since I saw you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What became of the man she went off with?"
+
+"Got tired and chucked her, after he made a tank of her. That's what
+they all do."
+
+"Have you ever tried to find her?"
+
+"What for?"
+
+"You might do her some good."
+
+"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."
+
+He raised his head, glanced furtively again at the group by the bar, and
+in a low whisper muttered:
+
+"I've got to go now. They'll get onto me next."
+
+"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:
+
+"Do you like it here?"
+
+"Got to."
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+The man drew back. It was a new experience. "You mean it?" he asked.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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--"
+
+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."
+
+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?"
+
+"Not much."
+
+"What do ye know about him?"
+
+"Nothing, except that he tried to rob me."
+
+"And what do ye want me to take him on for? To have him get away some
+night with a Saratoga trunk and--"
+
+"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."
+
+"What's he been doin' that he's up against it like this?" she asked,
+ignoring the compliment.
+
+"Trying to forget a wife who went back on him--so he tells me."
+
+"Has he done it?"
+
+"Yes. If you can believe him. She has become a drunkard."
+
+"Well--that's about the worst thing can happen to a man--if he's telling
+ye the truth. What's become of her?"
+
+"He did not say. All I know is that he has not seen her since she went
+away."
+
+"Maybe he didn't want to," she flashed back. "Did ye get out of him
+whose fault it was?"
+
+Felix, whose remarks had been addressed to the red-hot coals in the
+stove, glanced quickly toward Kitty, but made no answer.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+She paused, stretching her neck as if for more air.
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix waved his hand deprecatingly. "And so you never think, Mistress
+Kitty, that it may be the woman's fault?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"And if she takes this last plunge, when will she wake up to her
+mistake?" asked Felix, in a low voice.
+
+"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."
+
+"No! Not yet. One more question. After the last nightmare, what?"
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XVII
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+She tried to smile, but his face was too forbidding. "No, I am sorry to
+say that--"
+
+"You didn't! What have you done with it?"
+
+"I could not finish it. I have brought everything else. I will have it
+for you in the morning."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Before noon, if I can; certainly by four o'clock."
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I will try." Her cheeks were burning under the sting of his coarse
+lashes.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+As it approached the landing, a sickening faintness assailed her.
+
+She had heard that step before.
+
+It was Felix!
+
+Her hour of trial had come!
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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--"
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+"You--have--no--right--to--come--in--here."
+
+"I haven't, haven't I? I'd like to know who has a better right?" he
+returned angrily.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+She had reached the bedroom door now, and her hand was on the knob.
+
+"Yes--that's right," he said, mistaking her purpose, "get into your
+wraps, and--"
+
+The door closed with a sudden bang, and the inside bolt was pushed
+tight.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Who do you want to see?" she asked at last, in a firm voice.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Where is she?" Martha's voice was clear and incisive, with a ring of
+determination through it that, for the moment, disconcerted him.
+
+Dalton pointed to the bedroom door.
+
+Martha stepped across the room and tried the knob. "Open the door, Lady
+Barbara. It's Martha. Who is this man?"
+
+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--"
+
+"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!"
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+She called to her mistress: "Lock and bolt that door on you, and don't
+open it until I tell you."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XVIII
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Something rather good," he said, pointing to the black roll.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You're an Hinglishnan, I take it," came from the lowest dot of the
+five, a blurred and uncertain mouth.
+
+Dalton colored slightly and nodded.
+
+"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."
+
+Dalton crumpled up the black wad, slid the package under his coat, and
+without a word of thanks left the shop.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Give me the money," he said. "It is not one-third of its value, but I
+see that it is all I can do."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+Felix looked at him keenly. "Oh, yes, I remember--no, you are all right.
+How long have you been here?"
+
+"About half an hour."
+
+"Did you notice which way that man went who has just shut the door?"
+
+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."
+
+"Then you have seen him before?"
+
+"Of course I've seen him before. He plays pool where I've been
+a-workin'."
+
+Felix bent closer. "Do you know his name?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIX
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+Martha, with a shake of her head, put all these theories to flight.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Martha!"
+
+"Well, I wasn't here when he first came, but when I opened the door he
+was peeking behind the china."
+
+"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--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Just long enough for me to run past him and lock myself in."
+
+"And how long do you think it would take him to steal it, if he thought
+nobody was looking?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"You thought! Say, what are you giving me? Ain't you got it?"
+
+"I have not, and I don't know what has become of it. It was not in the
+box this morning, and--"
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I--pawn it? You think I--I won't allow you to speak to me in that way.
+I--"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"And you don't think it will do any good if you come to my room?"
+
+Mangan shook his head.
+
+"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.
+
+Mangan did not raise his head. "Sit down. I'll tell you when I'm
+through."
+
+The door opened and a thick-set man, in a brown suit and derby hat,
+stepped in.
+
+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."
+
+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--?"
+
+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."
+
+Lady Barbara drew herself up proudly. "I won't allow it!" she cried;
+"what I told you--"
+
+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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XX
+
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You'll take nothin'. Get out of my way."
+
+"For me?" asked Felix, coloring slightly as the postman accosted him.
+
+"Yes, if you're Mr. O'Day."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Not if it were for her good?"
+
+"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."
+
+Felix laughed gently.
+
+"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."
+
+Otto threw up his hands; he was becoming indignant, his mind more and
+more set against Felix's proposition.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Dot's Father Cruse comin' in. You ask him now vonce about dis goin'
+avay bizness. He tell you same as me."
+
+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?"
+
+Felix drew his brows together. "Say about what?" he asked, as if the
+question had surprised him.
+
+"About Beesving. Didn't you ask him?"
+
+"No, we talked of other things," replied Felix and, turning on his heel,
+occupied himself about the shop.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"I am on my way now to the police station," said the priest in his
+kindest voice.
+
+"Oh, then, ye heard o' Mike?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+The priest's face clouded. "Oh, very well; he spent last evening with
+me."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Rosenthal's man bobbed his head. He had not lifted his hat to the
+priest, and seemed to regard him with suspicion.
+
+"What sort of a looking woman is she?" continued the priest.
+
+"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."
+
+The priest lowered his head, an expression of suddenly awakened interest
+on his face. "May I see her?" he asked, in an eager tone.
+
+"Why, sure! Bunky, take Father Cruse down. He wants to talk to that
+Englishwoman."
+
+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.
+
+The sound of the turnkey's hand on the lock roused her to consciousness.
+
+"Bring her outside where I can talk to her," said Father Cruse, pointing
+to a bench in the corridor.
+
+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?"
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+"And your people, are they where you can reach them?"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+The priest sat still, waiting and watching, as a surgeon does a patient
+slowly emerging from delirium.
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+"Whose was it?"
+
+"Rosenthal's, for whom I worked."
+
+"The large store near by here, on Third Avenue?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"Would they let me go home, then?"
+
+"Yes, until your trial came off."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You don't remember what his business is?" he continued.
+
+"I think it is something to do with fitting out ships. He was once a
+mate on one of my father's vessels and--"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She glanced at him quickly. "Does it make any difference?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"They call me Mrs. Stanton."
+
+"Is that your true name?"
+
+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.
+
+"No!" she answered firmly.
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+"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--"
+
+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?"
+
+"Yes, thank God, I do, and you are his wife, Lady Barbara O'Day, Lord
+Carnavon's daughter."
+
+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.
+
+"Yes," she answered, her voice sinking. "I am Lord Carnavon's daughter."
+
+"And Felix O'Day's wife?"
+
+"And Felix O'Day's wife," came the echo, and, with the last word, her
+last vestige of strength seemed to leave her.
+
+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?"
+
+"GUILTY! I guilty! How could I be?" The denial came with a lift of the
+head, her eyes kindling, her bosom heaving.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXI
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Well, what's that got to do with it?" Kitty demanded. "What did she
+have to do with the boy?"
+
+"Nothing, don't I tell ye--she's been swipin' a department store, and
+they got her dead to rights."
+
+"Who's been swipin'? What are ye talkin' about, Mike? Stop it now--I've
+got a lot to do, and--"
+
+"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--"
+
+Kitty clapped her two palms to her face, framing her bulging eyes--a
+favorite gesture when she was taken completely by surprise.
+
+"That woman!" she cried, staring at Mike. "Where is she now? Tell me--"
+
+"I don't know--but she--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"But ye must have seen Father Cruse. Did he send any word?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Hold on--what did the Father say about the woman?"
+
+"Nothin', don't I tell ye?--he didn't see her. They'd locked her up
+before he came."
+
+"Why didn't ye tell him who it was?"
+
+"How was I a-goin' to tell him when the cap told me to git?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Why, Mistress Kitty--" began Felix, smiling at her audacity, the
+customer also regarding her with amused curiosity.
+
+"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!"
+
+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?"
+
+Kitty backed away toward the door, so that a huge wardrobe shielded her
+from Otto and his customer.
+
+"Come near, Mr. O'Day," she whispered, all her forced humor gone. "I've
+got the woman who dropped the sleeve-buttons."
+
+Felix swayed unsteadily, and gripped a chair-back for support.
+
+"You've got--the woman--What do you mean?" he said at last.
+
+"Mike saw her at the police-station. They've put her in a cell."
+
+"Arrested?"
+
+"Yes, for stealin'."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, shopliftin', they call it. Poor creatures, they get that miserable
+and trodden on they don't know right from wrong!"
+
+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--"
+
+"Has Father Cruse seen her?" asked Felix. No word of the recital had
+reached his ears.
+
+"No--that's why I come to ye."
+
+"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.
+
+"Locked up in the station-house not far from here. It won't take ye ten
+minutes to get there."
+
+Felix glanced at the big-faced clock, facing the side window of the
+store.
+
+"Yes, of course I will go, since Father Cruse wishes it. Thank you for
+bringing his message. You need not wait."
+
+"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."
+
+All the way to the station-house, Kitty beside him, Felix was putting
+into silent words the thoughts that raced through his mind.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+A new appointee--a lieutenant she had never seen before--was temporarily
+in charge of the station.
+
+"I'm Mrs. Cleary," she began, in her free, outspoken way, "and this is
+Mr. Felix O'Day."
+
+The new appointee stared and said nothing.
+
+"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."
+
+The lieutenant shook his head. "Can't see no prisoner without the
+captain's orders."
+
+Kitty bridled, but she kept her temper. "When will he be back?"
+
+"Six o'clock. He's gone to headquarters."
+
+"He'd let me see her if he was here," she retorted, with some asperity.
+
+"No doubt--but I can't." All this time he had not changed his
+position--his arms on the desk, his fingers drumming idly.
+
+Felix rested his hands on the rail fronting the desk. "May I ask if you
+saw the woman?"
+
+"No. I only came on half an hour ago."
+
+"Is there any one here who did see her?"
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+"You mean the girl who got Rosenthal's lace?" he answered.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"She did not. All we could get out of her was that she was English."
+
+Felix bent nearer. "Will you please describe her a little closer? I have
+a reason for knowing."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+Felix clenched his teeth, and drove his nails into the palms of his
+hands. He would have throttled the man had he dared.
+
+"Did she make any defense?" he asked, when he had himself under control
+again.
+
+"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."
+
+Kitty saw Felix sway for an instant, and was about to put out a
+protecting hand when he turned again to the lieutenant.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"If I went there, could I see her?"
+
+"When?"
+
+"This afternoon."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No," said Felix firmly.
+
+"Well, then, move on, both of you--you can't block up the desk."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXII
+
+
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, if you are the woman who is living with Mrs. Stanton." He had
+risen to his feet and had moved toward the door.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I am." He had edged nearer, his fingers within reach of the knob, his
+lids narrowing as he studied her face and movements.
+
+"Did they find the lace--the mantilla?"
+
+"Not as I heard," he answered, noting her anxiety. "That's what brought
+me down. I thought maybe you might know something about it."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+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?"
+
+"Had it! Why, she's been nearly a week on it. I helped her all I could,
+but her eyes gave out."
+
+"Then you would know it again if you saw it?" The stretch was cut short
+this time.
+
+"Of course I'd know it--don't I tell you I helped her fix it?"
+
+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?"
+
+Martha drew back, her gentle eyes flashing: "Pawned it! What do you
+mean?"
+
+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!"
+
+Martha turned squarely upon him--was about to speak--changed her
+mind--and drawing up a chair, settled down upon it.
+
+"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!"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+Pickert retreated slightly at this new development; then asked sharply:
+"Dalton! Who's Dalton?"
+
+"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!"
+
+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!
+
+"Do you know the pawn-shops around here?" he asked, becoming suddenly
+confidential.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, then, tell me what he looks like, so I can get him."
+
+"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."
+
+"One of the slick kind?"
+
+"Yes, for he's been a gentleman--before he got down to be a dog."
+
+"How old?"
+
+"About thirty--maybe thirty two or three. You can't tell to look at him,
+he's that battered."
+
+"Smooth-shaven--well-dressed?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And you say he's been living off of Mrs. Stanton since--"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You could put me on to the mantilla, couldn't you?--spot it for me once
+I come across it?"
+
+"Of course I could, the minute I clapped my eyes on it."
+
+"It's a kind of lace shawl, ain't it?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, what's the matter with your coming along with me?"
+
+"And where are you going to take me?"
+
+"To one or two pawn-shops around here."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Up on the East Side."
+
+"Well, then, we are all right. He will make for some fence where he is
+not known. Come along."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, you got it right," answered Otto; "dot's my name. Vat is it you
+vant?"
+
+"And you own this store?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+The detective grinned derisively. "You bought a piece of lace, didn't
+you?"
+
+"I buy a dozen pieces maybe--vot's dot your business?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Pickert's grin covered half his face. He could get along now without a
+search-warrant. "And have you got it now?"
+
+"Yes, I got it now."
+
+The grin broadened--the triumphant grin of a boy when he hears the click
+of a trap and knows the quarry is inside.
+
+"Can I see it?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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--"
+
+"You remember the man, then?" interrupted the detective, following up
+his advantage, and again scraping his chin with his forefinger.
+
+"Oh, yes. I don't forgot him. Vore a buttoned-up coat--high like up to
+his chin--"
+
+"And a slouch-hat?" prompted Pickert.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You take it--VAT?" exclaimed Otto.
+
+"Well, of course, it's stolen goods."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Well, then, sell it to me," he snarled.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+Otto was now thoroughly angry. "NO!" he shouted, moving toward the door
+of his office.
+
+"Will you help put me on to the man who sold it to you?"
+
+"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."
+
+The tramp slouched up--a sliding movement, led by his shoulder, his feet
+following.
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"He's my clerk," growled Otto, his determination to get rid of the man
+checked by this new turn in the situation.
+
+"Can I see him?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You work here?" he asked. He had taken his measure in a glance and was
+ready to use him.
+
+"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."
+
+"What's he got to do with you?"
+
+"He got me my job."
+
+"He's an Englishman, ain't he?"
+
+"Yes, and the best ever."
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+The detective shot a quick glance at the speaker. "Me?" he returned
+quietly.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"It may be worth something to you if you can make good," he said, with a
+confidential shrug of his near shoulder.
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+"No, you stay here," he broke out. "I'll get him."
+
+He walked back to the office, the tramp following. "I say, Mr. Kling!"
+he called impudently.
+
+Otto lifted his head. He had locked up the mantilla and had the key in
+his pocket. For him the incident was closed.
+
+"Vell?" replied Otto dryly.
+
+"Does this man work over at Cleary's express?"
+
+"He does. Vy?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I may want him later. And, say!"
+
+"Vell," again replied Otto.
+
+"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.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIII
+
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Kitty gave a start. She knew at once that some new development had
+brought him to her at this hour.
+
+"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?"
+
+"No--nothing more than you know. That must wait until to-morrow. Nothing
+can be done to-night."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+He paused, his head averted, staring straight ahead.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"And is that what has been breakin' yer heart all these months ye lived
+with us?"
+
+Felix moved uneasily. "Yes. There has been nothing else."
+
+"And she's the same one ye've been a-trampin' the streets to find?"
+
+Felix bowed his head in assent.
+
+"And ye kep' all this from me?" she asked, as a mother might reproach
+her son.
+
+"You could have done nothing."
+
+"I could have comforted ye. That would have been somethin'. Did she
+leave ye?"
+
+Again Felix bowed his head in answer. The spoken words would only add to
+his pain.
+
+"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'?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so--I do not know. I only know she is a criminal. That
+is shame enough."
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Help! How can I help?" he asked listlessly.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Did you check the trunk?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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--"
+
+"What for, to sit for five years waiting for her to come out? And what
+then? Have you ever seen one reform?"
+
+"And if she gets off, and wanders around the streets?"
+
+"Father Cruse must answer that question."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"And why not forgive her this?" She could hardly restrain a sob as she
+spoke.
+
+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."
+
+"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!"
+
+Felix shook his head. "It is kinder for me to stay away. The very sight
+of me would kill her." His answer was final.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Felix lifted himself slowly to his feet, as would a man in a hospital
+ward who sees the doctor approaching.
+
+"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.
+
+Kitty swung wide the door and Father Cruse stepped in. He wore his heavy
+cassock, which was flecked with snow, and his wide hat.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+The priest glanced in question at Kitty, then back again at Felix. "Does
+Mrs. Cleary--"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+Felix straightened his back. "You have saved her from it."
+
+"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.
+
+Felix stretched out his hand as if to steady himself, motioned the
+priest to a chair, and sank into his own.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, every day. Why do you ask such a question--of me, in particular?"
+
+"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."
+
+The priest turned abruptly, and laid a firm hand on O'Day's knee. "But
+you will see her, of course?"
+
+"No, it is better that you act for me. She will not want to see me in
+her present condition."
+
+Kitty was about to protest, when Father Cruse waved her into silence.
+"You certainly cannot mean what you have just said, Mr. O'Day?"
+
+"I do."
+
+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.
+
+"Come in," said the priest.
+
+Martha put her arm around Lady Barbara and led her into the room.
+
+Felix staggered to his feet.
+
+The two stood facing each other, Lady Barbara searching his eyes, her
+fingers tight hold of Martha's arm.
+
+"Don't turn away, Felix," she sobbed. "Please listen. Father Cruse said
+you would. He brought me here."
+
+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.
+
+Again her eyes crept up to his.
+
+"I'm so tired, Felix--so tired. Won't you please take me home to my
+father--"
+
+He made a step forward, halted as if to recover his balance, wavered
+again, and stretched out his hands.
+
+"Barbara! BARBARA!" he cried. "Your home is here." And he caught her in
+his arms.
+
+END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
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