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diff --git a/old/66264-0.txt b/old/66264-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 09131e1..0000000 --- a/old/66264-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13796 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Damned, by Anonymous - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Damned - The Intimate Story of a Girl - -Author: Anonymous - -Release Date: September 10, 2021 [eBook #66264] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, sf2001, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust - Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAMNED *** - - - - - -DAMNED - - - - -DAMNED - -_The Intimate Story of a Girl_ - -ANONYMOUS - - -NEW YORK -THE MACAULAY COMPANY - - - - -Copyright, 1923 - -By THE MACAULAY COMPANY - - -PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - - TO THE DEVIL - IN EVERYMAN THAT HAS ROUSED ME - TO THE WRITING OF THIS BOOK. - - The Author - - - - -DAMNED - - - - -DAMNED - - -CHAPTER I - - -An air of apprehension pervaded the throne room. - -The most imperfect day known for ages in the Court of Gehenna was -drawing to a close. The seven Tartarean courtiers had effaced -themselves as far back in the auditorium as the folds of its black and -red electric hangings would permit. Each held eyes and ears intent, -realizing far too well that his particular tenure of preferment hung -upon the mood of the moment. Even the prime minister, Old Original -Sin, who had weathered so many Apollyon storms that he well might have -considered himself immune, sat ill at ease in his chair of honor upon -the dais. - -His Satanic Majesty leaned forward from the throne chair, imposing in -its effect of onyx and gold. His head drooped as though from weight -other than the voltage of his crown. His elbows pressed upon the -chair-arms, that both his strong, long hands might stroke in turn his -pointed, copper-colored beard. About the room, as lightning plays in -advance of thunder, flashed his gray-eyed glances. When he spoke, -although in a mild voice, each auditor quivered through taut nerves. - -“Draw the night curtains. Throw on every switch. I dislike this pale, -abiding light.” - -Without awaiting the attendants, the courtiers sprang to do the -royal will. Sin himself operated the electric switch-board. At his -touch, a design in heraldry blazed from the wall behind the dais. In -pseudo-seeming, bands of ebony and of beryl formed the setting for a -golden crown in bas relief, its points pricked out with emeralds. -Projecting from its headband, three horns of power suspended from their -tips the ruby-writ words “Japheth,” “Shem” and “Ham.” The crown itself -looked to rest upon a sword that dripped all jewels known, like tears -of every agony, from those of water to those of blood. Beneath, through -letters transparent as thin sardonyx, flamed this caption: - - SATAN the FIRST and LAST. - Outcast of Paradise - Heir-apparent to Earth - Monarch of Greater Gehenna - -His Highness glanced back at this elaborate conceit and a gratified -expression crossed his face. He signed a page to spread out his -crackling mantle of gold-bordered black; slanted a self-respecting look -at the splendid proportions revealed through his easy-fitting body -garment of opaque red light; matched his long-nailed finger-tips in -pairs. - -The seven waited with increased perturbation. They knew that calm, -considering look to presage some diabolical idea; realized that no -flattery might blind that super-keen sight; appreciated that the day -had run too unevenly for hope of a restful end. - -From the moment of the royal rising that early morn, the King had -seemed of malevolent mind. The attendants in his private suite insisted -that he had quit the royal bed from the right side. Yet he had seemed -to assimilate perversity from his static shower, declaring the current -hot when, in fact, it was cold as refrigeration could make it. In a -passion he had unwound the small dynamo of a new costume considered -by his chief tailor a creation; later had hurled his breakfast -filectric-mignon at the first chef, asserting that it bore no -resemblance, either in appearance or gastronomic satisfaction, to the -beefsteaks of men. - -The inadequate light cast by his pet device, an imitation of Sol, had -provoked a personally conducted investigation of the mammoth power -plant in the lower badlands. Disregarding the affairs which awaited -his personal direction, he had spent the noon hour tinkering at the -mechanism of his sun, moon and flock of stars. - -At the General Assembly of Demons his ill-temper had gained momentum. -After listening for a time in sneering impatience to suggestions -offered as amendments to the general proposition of standardizing -crime, he had hurled upon that august body a very cataclysm of -political overthrow. One by one he had assailed the ministry, down to -the most faded of those angel plotters cast out with him at The Fall. -Announcing that he would run the nether world alone and unaided, he had -dissolved the cabinet, assigning its members to labors futile as their -protests. - -In view of his treatment of those who had served him so long and so -infernally, what was in store for mere courtiers, sycophants of a few -recent centuries? - -When he straightened in the throne-chair, each of the seven -straightened with him. When, tilting his crown at an easier slant, -he glanced speculatively about, all crowded back against the highly -charged curtains and tried to look indifferent at the shock. - -His gaze settled upon the prime minister. - -“Sin, you aborigine, a word!” - -Old Original--so called because his visability, like the King’s own, -never had dimmed--made obvious effort to assume the sang-froid of one -who knows himself to be indispensable; sauntered to the steps; bent in -an obeisance of elaborate mockery. - -“Future of the Universe, I await your will,” he remarked with nasal -twang. - -Satan looked contemptuous of his handyman’s forced effrontery. - -“I know you do. You’ve taken to awaiting my will entirely too much -for your own good. There was a time when you were full of vile ideas. -But you’ve lost your ingenuity of late. Since when have you designed -a sin-mask that would deceive the least suspicious of earthlings or -invented a new form of torture with which to demonstrate our canons of -damnation?” - -The aged demon, forced on the defensive, eyed the Master with reproach. - -“Æons agone there ceased to be anything new beneath the sun and I----” - -“And you,” His Highness interrupted, “may be dispensed with if that -is true. I am proficient in all the old tricks myself. However, I am -disposed to give you a chance to disprove it, being ever kind and just. -Is that not true?” The lightning of his look threatened the seven -sycophants. “Am I not ever kind and just?” - -“As the hope of Hell!” - -“Oftener than ever!” - -“In our best-worst interests, Sire!” - -The medley whined from the shimmering shadows. - -Sin’s voice gained in assurance, even as his mind lost at the trend of -Satanic argument. - -“But, my King, haven’t I had the whole mortal world at war? Didn’t I -trick all peoples into slaughter of each other as you planned?” - -“I notice you use the past-perfect tense in speaking of that late -little unpleasantness. As a matter of fact we lost out on it--lost our -one best bet since Noah and the Flood. How did you make the mistake of -assuming that any scrapper who falls fighting for his country could be -condemned by his fellow men? The worst of them is guaranteed a passport -to Abraham’s bosom. As for the leaders--the brains of the drive--most -of them were lost to us through that meanest of mortal weaknesses, fear -for the integrity of their own hides. They all want to live. That is -what’s wrong with conquerors. When earth-wars are such good training -for----” - -His Highness’ teeth bit the sentence in two. His saber-like gaze -slashed suspiciously from face to face. - -“You do your own army an injustice to compare its morals with that -of any on earth,” soothed the old toady. “I’ll acknowledge that I am -somewhat used up. Even Sin might get brain-fag, you know.” - -“That excuse is antedated. You have had ample time to recuperate.” -The royal digits made a crackling sound as they touched. “You failed -egregiously on every important specification of the big fight. Did you -keep them at it until the world was engulfed in one red sea of gore? -Did you inoculate hate until it over-ruled every gentler human impulse? -Did you overcome the too-young at home and the too-old who were to -instruct them and the women who were to bear the spawn to continue the -slaughter? With all the possibilities of modern wholesaleness, that war -was not half what it should have been.” - -“Admitting all you say,” the prime minister defended, “I don’t see -cause for your august dissatisfaction over our progress with the mortal -world.” - -“You don’t? What you need is an oculist.” - -His Majesty descended the steps and began to pace the great room. - -“I have had a day of realization,” he continued in lifted voice. -“Something must be done. Things are too slow to suit my purposes. We -are not getting our share of those who enter Shadow Land. Entirely too -many are ticketed through to the Fields by Mors.” - -“You know, Sire, something of my efforts to buy that stubborn old -keeper of the outer gate,” interpolated Sin. “Nothing I offer seems to -have any value to him. He is polite enough, but drones always the same -reminder that for the present he must abide by the records of Earth.” - -“The trouble is not with Mors, fool fiend,” Satan snapped. “It is -with that book of his--with the ‘Judgments of Men.’ The feelings of -mortals do soften sickeningly toward their dead. They say the good die -young. Certainly we try to see to it that the bad die old. That’s why -everything has seemed to depend upon our new searchlight summoning -towers. Mors is able, with only two such towers ranged on either side -the Mystery Gate, to make his lists, set his automatic finders and -turn on his power. What results? Every evening and all night long -they come at his call. There’s certainly nothing attractive about the -patriarch. He is grim as the first law of mortality and looks it. Yet -every witness he subpœnas _comes_. Nothing stops them, the long, drear -journey, the fear of the unknown, the hissing belly-crawlers along the -way. What happens when _I_ build a dozen searchlight towers to his two? -I make my selected list of earthlings for whom no modern Ananias could -pass a good word. I set my alleged finders and turn on all the power we -can generate. With what result?” - -Glaringly though he challenged reply, none who knew his latest scheme -to add to the population of his kingdom dared remind him of its -failure. Of necessity he answered himself. - -“For a week now our tower tops have been shafting calls to Earth. Has -one of the nominated accepted? I am forced to admit that there is -something more to this death business than searchlighting. I’ve never -been so disappointed since Pontius Pilate double-crossed me.” - -“Wait until Mors summons the choice crowd of leaders you mention who -started the world war,” Sin suggested. - -“Wait? That seems to be your persistent idea. I tell you we can’t -afford to wait.” - -Halting before the lesser fiend, Satan seared him with a look. - -“I don’t expect you even to suggest where the Associated Electricians -of Gehenna have failed. And in other respects your title and office are -jeopardized. I offer you a last chance to save them. If overnight you -invent some new feasible scheme for conscripting earthlings into our -standing army, your job is saved. If not----” - -“The feasible idea already is invented and its workings under way, O -King. Compared with it, all our past schemes are limited and crude. -Camouflaged under propaganda of universal appeal, it cannot fail to -start a whirlpool which will, in time, suck every man, woman and child -into moral death.” - -“You refer to Bolshevism, I suppose? Not a good idea--not good at all. -The germ of it has lain in my mind for centuries. I’d suggest that you -saunter to the outer gates and quiz the evening’s grist. You might -happen upon a Red recruit with cheering news.” - -“The very thing I was about to propose,” Old Original made reply on his -way to the door. - -The ruler frankly sneered. “Great minds, eh? Are you trying to flatter -yourself or me? While you are going, take the wall decorations with -you.” He included the courtiers in his gesture. “How many centuries do -you obsoletes need to rise to the worst that’s in you? Do you suppose -for one split-second--mortal time--that I’d work with evil natures as -I have done since that fracas up in Paradise just for the company of -the evilest of them through eternity? By to-morrow I shall have decided -what to do with such choice parasites. Out with you, or I’ll fit my -skeleton key to the trap-door of the bottomless pit and throw you in -before your time.” - -With alacrity which showed their relief at this temporary escape, the -seven followed the prime minister through the separating rays of the -rear curtain. - -Satan looked to share their relief that they were gone. For a space -silence reigned with him in the throne room except for the snap of his -heels upon the floor and the swish of the royal robe. His reflection -in one of the mercurized panels of the side walls caused him to halt. -For long he studied his face, then, straightening, appreciated his -magnificent outlines. A look of satisfaction cleared the frown of evil -affairs from his brow. Lifting his crown, he bowed into the mirror. - -A voice from behind the curtain also saluted him: - -“‘_No wonder that thy heart was lifted up, that thy wisdom was -corrupted by reason of thy brightness._’” - -“Step out, caitiff. Be as apparent as your flattery. Why do you linger -to spy upon me when I order the court cleared?” - -A Balial glare fixed upon the returned minister’s ingratiating grin. - -“Not to spy upon you, Sire. Rather, to admire you. You certainly are -the Boss of Below for looks.” - -His Highness, never having outlived his first fault of vanity, gave -benefit of doubt to the compliment, as also to the glass-like tumbler -bewhiskered with crisp-crackling green held toward him. - -“I thought Your Majesty’s harassed spirit might feel in need of -refreshment, so made bold to have this quaff mixed. It is as near as -may be like those they have voted too strong for the United States of -America, suh. Here you are--a frappé low-bolt!” - -Sin proffered both explanation and cup with that irrepressibility which -so far had made, but at any moment might break him. With sympathy sips, -he watched the sampling of the liquidized current concocted by the -first royal bartender, a past-master indeed of the art before it was -amended off Forty-second Street and Broadway, New York. - -“Get the kick?” he asked, fearing as much as hoping that the julep -would fail of its effect. - -Satan threw the goblet on the floor, where it snapped and flashed, but -did not break. - -“If I didn’t, you would.” - -Sin believed him. From experience he had learned the difficulty of -gauging the moods of m’lord after a few such applications had filed or -smoothed the edges of his tooth-sharp temper. For safety’s sake he gave -a side glance into the sensitized panel. - -“Notice the size of you as compared with me--and I am supposed to be -well-developed from my criminal calisthenics.” - -His Highness frowned. He also “noticed.” - -“Where is the value in good looks,” he conceded, “if there’s none -around whom you admire to admire you?” - -Old Original was quick to follow the advantage. “A word on that very -subject is what I returned to say, a word of condolence and advice.” - -“_You_ offer condolence and advice to _me_?” The King of Evil glared at -the most malapert fiend of his kingdom. - -“Condolence, Sire, over your state of solitariness. Advice as to how -to ease it. From my hurting envy of your appearance I realize one -littleness in my largeness. Absolute admiration may endure only where -envy may not spring. Why does not Your Majesty seek that companionship -which is not born to jealousy? Isn’t there a complete assortment of -rags and bones and hanks of hair in Gehenna’s bargain basement?” - -“You suggest for me the companionship of--” Satan paused briefly to -sneer--“of a female shade? Don’t you suppose, if I cared for the sex, -that I’d be running a harem of all nations, stocked with every famed -siren, from Helen of Troy forwards and back? You should know by this -time, old weakling, that your spirit in women doesn’t appeal to me any -more than to mortal profligates. And the pulchritude of most has gone -by the time they get here.” - -“But there are the dewy-looking souls loitering about the Fields. Why -not break the rule that there may be no transference between Elysium -and the Lower Land before the Call? Aren’t you the exception to all -rules? Why not an adventure for Your Excellency such as often we have -seen in the cinemized episodes of modern villains--an abduction, say, -of the most visible and fair before the guards can interfere? Don’t -despise my idea, generated from a conviction that the chief lack in -your life is loneliness.” - -“An angel for me?” Mirthlessly His Highness laughed. “Sir Sin, they -bore me limp as a summer-resort collar. To be sure that a she-soul is -going to be eternally good is a fraction worse than to be sure she’ll -be eternally bad. No, philanderer, you’ll have to do better than that. -There is not a female, quick or dead, for whose absolute admiration I’d -give a plugged nickel.” - -The click of the door-knocker punctuated this assertion. Satan strode -to the throne; replaced his crown; signaled the minister to respond. - -Soon Sin bowed low before his Master, a look of evil animation on his -face. - -“Already the Seven have returned, Sire. They report that a goodly -number of bad ones were crowding through the gates. Among others, they -interviewed a couple who, they thought, may interest Your Majesty. They -await your pleasure without.” - -“May divert My Majesty from complaint of them, you mean. Yet I suppose -that they, as well as you, should have that proverbial last chance -due evil intenders. By no means make any diverting shade await my -displeasure. Page, bid them enter The Presence.” - -Royal tolerance fled, however, at sight of the candidates. - -“A crippled old soldier and a woman with a suckling babe! It behooves -me to find some way of revising the current notion of what constitutes -My Majesty’s diversion.” - -He relapsed into silence as the new-comers were half led, half dragged -toward the dais by a pair of the scrub-oak dwarfs who ushered inside -the Gehennan gates. By light of the dynamo that is within each soul, -they were clothed as in the habiliments they had worn in their late -estate on earth, he in a rusty uniform, she in nun’s gray. With -his crutch the cripple resented their intent to be rough, but his -travel-mate stumbled forward without resistance, her head drooped so -low that her long, loose hair swaddled the whimpering infant shade in -her arms. - -The kingly choler increased when, at the steps, she sank as though from -exhaustion rather than reverence to her knees. One last, promising -glare he shot at Old Original and the seven, then spoke in a voice -quiet, yet more dire to those who knew him than any thunder-clap. - -“To swoon, madam or miss, is out of date down here. I pray you postpone -the attempt for some less sophisticated audience.” - -Sin, leaning forward from his especial chair just back of the throne, -dared to insinuate: “And I pray you, Damnity, do not sentence her until -you have considered her. There is something exceptional about her. She -may have been sent to prove that idea of mine.” - -Satan scorned to notice the suggestion. - -“Come,” he ordered the woman soul, “show your passport.” - -As though from shame, she crumpled against her breast a scarlet slip. -Shaking back her hair, she looked up at him. - -His Highness, startled, returned her look. He did not heed or hear -Sin’s gasp of anticipation. He forgot the seven, the pages and the -dwarfs. Leaning lower, he looked and looked. - -Truly he, who had been the fate of most fair women since Eve, never had -beheld one of a face of such appeal. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -The multiple-candle glow from the Mephistophelian coat-of-arms lit the -girl-soul’s features. From a veil that well might have been worn on -Earth for mourning, so black was her hair and enveloping, they gleamed -as if carved from Parian marble. The curve of her chin, the fullness of -lips blent into faint, downward-traced lines, the tube-rose texture of -her cheeks, all lent a suggestion of pliancy, even weakness. Above, her -classic nose and broad forehead offered contradiction--were sculped as -from a master’s inspiration. - -Lesser wonders as to the personality behind the marble mask merged -into that aroused by her eyes. Colored like the purpling depths of -a midnight sky, they concealed, rather than revealed. From beneath -straight brows they gazed forth, not as a hope that is lost in -darkness, but as hope resting from its weariness, to rise again at -dawn. Over her face they shed a light of mystery that made its beauty -negligible--a mystery based neither on courage nor fear, pride nor -shame, joy nor dole. They asked what confused the mind and haunted the -imagination, that demand of why--_why_--to which only the Creator of -souls Himself one day may make satisfactory reply. - -Intently as the spirit-girl studied the new arbiter of her sorry fate -was he studying her. At first he did not move. Then the finger-tips -of his one hand sought those of the other. As they met, the ruby-red -setting of his signet ring discharged a spark. - -“The sight of you sounds like some song of Destiny,” said he. - -“And only Destiny could be accountable for her present plight.” The -crippled soldier, handling his crutch with the skill of long practice, -approached the throne. His one heel clicked against the floor in a -salute peculiar to the wars of yester-year. “Might I say a few words, -sir, for this young mother? I got to know her well on the awful journey -into Shadow Land.” - -Satan, turning to him, saw that age had not blurred a youthful -eagerness in his parchment face and the faded blue of his eyes. - -“And why,” he scoffed, “should you speak a few words for her, or a -couple, or even one--you, a mere piece of a man?” - -“That you will know, sir, after you know her. A mere girl she is. -Nothing truthful, I’m sure, could be written against her account in the -records of Earth.” - -“You evade my question.” Royal annoyance over the interruption -was turned from him to his sponsors. “Why, you imperfect seven, a -one-legged veteran of a past decade?” - -The prime minister intervened. “Old One-leg here is not so weak a new -idea as he looks. While he has not fought in the latest battles of -Earth, he has been absorbed in them, he says, and theoretically knows -all there is to be known of modern tactics.” - -His Highness’ shoulders shrugged. “None can say that I am not glad to -believe the worst of every man. Has he a passport?” - -Aloud he read the soldier-shade’s card: - - “Samuel Cummings, N.C.O. In youth deserted when battle was on. Changed - his name and lost his identity for a time. Later reënlisted, was - wounded in service, but not distinguished. Called from Soldier’s Home.” - -The cripple’s free hand brushed one ear, as if forcefully to eject the -words. “I deserted, yes. But she lay sick abed, my girl bride, and -I loved her better than myself. Afterwards not a man in our company -fought more careless than Corporal Sam. But we had a saying at the Home -that you’ve got to be conscripted into the army of death. Only cowards -volunteer.” - -“Once a deserter, always one,” His Highness made remark. “Don’t you see -that more important affairs than yours await? Just remember this, no -wife is worth deserting a good fight for.” - -Corporal Sam, with head sagging and shoulders disturbed by more than -his crutch, stepped aside. But a wonderful light shone from his blue -eyes into the Satanic gray ones. - -“I know,” he muttered, “that what made my Mary Gertrude worth deserting -for can’t ever die. I saw her in the border fields this very evening. -She couldn’t go on, you see, without me. She had promised to wait -around for me until----” - -“Silence, old nuisance,” Sin advised. “One doesn’t mention the Second -Call in The Presence.” - -He need not have feared. His Majesty’s attention had returned to the -girl-shade. A long moment he studied her; closed his eyes; quickly -opened them to study her again. The puzzlement at first on his features -changed to semi-recognition. - -“That look in your eyes---- What is it, that look? I seem to know you, -woman, although I cannot place you. Do you remember having seen me -before?” - -“I don’t think that I ever have seen you. But I’ve known men on Earth -that resembled you.” Her voice was that of a cathedral bell retarding -over the last phrase of the hymn. - -“It must be that I have trailed you afar, probably at the start of the -career that brought you here. Let us see how you’re written down in -Mors’ copy from the book.” - -Sin transferred the card from her clutch. With characteristic bravado, -he read the start of it aloud. - -“Dolores Trent, Grief to Men, and bastard babe.” - -“What’s that you say?” With unwonted eagerness, Satan possessed himself -of the passport. “That is quite a title, ‘Grief to Men.’ I like it.” - -He smiled peculiarly while giving his eyes to Earth’s verdict of the -newcomer, as transcribed from that tome called “Judgments of Men” which -is in charge of Mors, keeper of the Great Gates into Shadow Land. From -between the two lines of his strong, white teeth, his tongue appeared -and smoothed both lips. - -The girl-soul, with the equivocal expression of one both fascinated and -repulsed, watched him as he read: - - “Dolores Trent, known as ‘Grief to Men.’ A cause of disaster from - first breath to last. Her birth caused the death of her mother, whose - loss brought her father to ruin. Directly responsible is she held for - the wrecked careers of a successful merchant, an eminent Divine, a - skilled healer, a previously exemplary millionaire, and an attorney - of repute. As a climax, the supreme crime of womanhood is hers--an - illegitimate child. Through life she has spread sorrow in her wake. - Unto death she carries her murdered ill-begot, a suicide without - repentance or appeal.” - -The King commented: “Æons have come and gone since I have felt -surprise. Completely did that look of yours deceive me. And Raphael -must have altered the face of his Madonna had he first seen yours.” - -Arising, he stepped from the dais, settled his crown a trifle more -to one side and slicked his vandyke with meticulous care. He then -approached the cowering figure on the steps. - -“It is unseemly that you should remain upon your knees, madam or miss, -when many stand who probably are not half so bad as you. Allow me.” - -Stooping, he lifted her to her feet. - -She straightened to face him with a show of bravery. - -“I was misunderstood on Earth,” she said. “In this existence, I hope -for justice.” - -“Fear not,” he assured her. “In Gehenna you shall receive justice, -Dolores Trent, as meted by that world which has learned you to its -sorrow and, it would seem, to your own.” - -“I’ll tell you--I swear to you, sir, that I have done no man willing -wrong.” - -He greeted her protest with a punctilious laugh, as though over an -attempt at wit. - -“Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief----” - -“But you will not punish my baby for my faults?” A breeze of terror -swung the cathedral bell. “Only look at her, sir. She is too tiny, you -see, for the vaguest thought of wrong. To her, at least, be merciful.” - -“Oh, Hell, be merciful!” Satan mocked her. “That too-late wail has been -dinned into my ears until it is a wonder that I can hear you at all. -Cheer up. You won’t have to part from it--I beg its pardon--_her_. Have -you not heard that a child conceived in sin must take his--its chances -with her progenitors?” - -At the low, protesting cry which escaped the mother, he laid a hand -on her shoulder, then allowed his arm to settle about her, as though -measuring her height by his own. His touch appeared to repulse her. -Shuddering, she passed the infant shade to the other arm and stood -irresolute, evidently trying to decide how best she might release -herself. - -A commotion at the door claimed the court’s attention. Through the -light-striped hangings, slipping from the grip of the pygmies, two -comely creatures seemed verily to float across the throne-room, a youth -costumed as a knight and a guileless-looking maid. He, drawing her by -the hand, pressed toward the group before the dais. Lithe of body and -ardent of eye, he caught the arm of the King and sought to remove it -from about the suppliant’s form. As the pursuing dwarfs seized him with -their over-long reach, His Highness found himself looking down into the -flower-face of the girl intruder--into eyes shy and fearless as violets -at dawn. - -“And whom,” he enquired, “have we here?” - -The minister undertook to announce them. “A pair by the stagy names of -Innocentia and Amor. They call themselves guardian spirits and have a -talent, which few share with Your Excellency and myself, of absolute -invisibility. They lined up in a most theatric way beside the wench -Dolores outside the door. As they had no passports and did not seem to -belong, I sent them back--or thought I did.” - -Satan considered Sin and them. “Where is your sense of humor, Old -Original, that you explain them to _me_? I can’t say that I should have -regretted Amor. We have all varieties of him down the Lane of Labors. -But Innocentia! You might have appreciated that I seldom get a chance -to see her wings flutter or hear her heart beat from fear. Tell me, you -two, what madness is driving you?” - -“There has been some mistake about the girl Dolores,” Amor declared. -“Earth has passed another false judgment. Shouldn’t I know who have -been with her since first she met the father of her child?” - -“You refer, I presume, to her husband?” - -The love-lad’s head threw back in defiance at the jibe. But Innocentia -flushed as she took up the defense. - -“I have been with our dear Dolores always, more a part of her than the -blood in her veins, since that has ceased to flow and I am come with -her into Shadow Land. She has heeded all my cautions against the wiles -of men. Never once has she offended me.” - -“More sinned against than sinning, eh?” His Highness plucked an -imaginary tear from one eye. “Often as a woman has been damned have I -heard that plea.” - -“Only see for yourself, Sire, how she shrinks from your touch--how she -suffers. We pray you, release her.” - -“Little pest, don’t you know that I enjoy defying you?” - -Even as he scoffed, however, his clasp of the mother relaxed. He -ascended the steps and reseated himself in the throne chair. - -“Innocence and love--certainly a strange companionship,” he observed. -“Odd that they don’t fade out, when they are less material than the -dimmest spirit in the inter-world. Shoo them back whence they came, -ushers. We must get to the case in hand.” - -“Oh, I beg you, sir, let them stay!” Dolores interceded. “You’ll find -that they enter and exit quietly as thoughts of the mind.” - -“Thoughts of the mind get very much in my way,” Satan snapped. - -At his show of impatience, Innocentia pressed her lips to the cheeks of -the babe. “Do not distress yourself, Dolores dear. It is best that we -should disappear. But in Gehenna, as on Earth and in the Fields, we see -no gates and acknowledge no commands.” - -“Always remember,” Amor added, “the great love of John Cabot. Send him -the strength of your good faith. In your late life it did seem that he -forsook you. But when he comes to the mystery world, he will seek you, -never fear.” - -“I shall remember,” Dolores assured them in a low aside. “That night we -said our vows, I swore that I believed. Despite appearances, Amor, I -do--I _must_ believe.” - -Old Original approached them. “Why unwind these fare-ye-wells when your -taxi’s waiting? Accept my arm to the door, Miss Innocentia. You look -almost overcome.” - -Waggishly he escorted her out. - -The while His Majesty’s frown lowered to the pygmean pair salaaming -before the dais. - -As in one whine they put the formal demand: “To what futile labors, O -King, shall we consign these recruits?” - -Satan shaded his eyes with one hand. He appeared not to be thinking so -much as looking. As if from under a blower, the inflammable imagination -of him glowed--glowed on Dolores Trent. - -The prime minister, on returning, settled in his chair and claimed the -keen ear which, through ages past, had considered his suggestions. - -“This modern Delilah, Excellency, I consider unique in that she cannot -be classed by the naked eye. She is not, so to speak, a type. Might I -call your attention to the tact with which she maintains silence, while -you----” - -“You might not. I detest to have fine bits of the play diagramed by my -seat-mate. Have I or have I not eyes of my own?” - -“But, Sire----” - -“But the buts! Haven’t I paid at least as much admission as you?” - -All eyes focused upon the Master, except those of the ancient -hypocrite. His settled appreciatively upon her who indeed had -distracted the royal resentment from himself. The pause which lapsed he -had the temerity to break, although in a vague voice, as if to himself: - -“Hell to be lonely.... Some sympathy soul.... Boss looker like you.... -Try anything once or twice.” - -“Try anything once and forever except hoodwinking me.” - -If Sin’s pride was hurt by the King’s public rebuke, it must have been -salved next moment with the proof that his advice was being found -tenable. - -His Highness to the court: “As a bad lot, this earthling pair would -seem to deserve labors different from any yet devised. Until I decide -upon some special form of punishment I shall keep them in the palace. -Dame Dolores comes highly recommended to my ingenuity. That I may -observe her vices, I appoint her for the nonce First Royal Entertainer. -She shall relate to me those griefs which she has caused on Earth.” - -His glance veered to the veteran. - -“Always have I envied the angels their ability to weep--never have -lived down the ambition to emulate their pietism with just one tear. -Mayhap I shall be moved to that extent by these earth-tales of Grief -to Men. I am _so_ temperamental. In view of which possibility, Samuel -Cummings, I hereby create for you the office of Holder of the Crocodile -Tear Bowl to my Majesty. As for the bastard babe----” - -Dolores, at his flint-hard gaze, clutched closer the tiny soul of her -soul. Intensely she awaited his words. - -“Don’t crucify yourself with maternal fears, my beauty. We are pleased -to let the Littlest Devil stick around. Ever notice how the strongest -villain has weakness for a brat? Yours is about as young as they -come--almost a native, one might say. He will give the palace a homey -look.” - -“She, sir.” - -“_She._ I beg _its_ pardon.” - -“You are so much kinder than I was led to expect.” To his consideration -the young mother lifted the radium glow of her gratitude. “From hints -I heard at the Mystery Gate, I gathered that you were--that you might -be----” - -The delicacy of such comment was impressed upon her by the interested -expression of its subject. As she paused in confusion, a Balialic smile -lightened his countenance. - -“Beginning on me already, sweet Grief--and with the old baby-eyed -confidence game? Even so, you are different from the rest of the damned -Delilahs.” - -Unexpectedly he clapped his hands. Invective, sarcasm and abuse greeted -the courtiers and pages who sprang to receive and execute his orders. - -“Get the machinery of this court geared up, will you? Light the snuffed -lucifers that are supposed to illuminate my life. Affairs in general -are going to be run more according to the ways of Earth, or certain -helliots will be put through their third and last degree before their -appointed time. You, tell that new chef that I have some few untried -torments for him if he does not excel his predecessors to-night. He’s -to prepare a banquet that will taste as well as look. Dynobasco Sauce -for my burnt-out stomach, the mead that sears to wash it down--all -the trimmings. And you, tell the head landscape gardener that I want -moonlight to-night--gobs of it--and a free play of juice through the -Garden of Bad Luck. Have him throw the limit in effect--fountains and -foliage and tropical bloom. I want the mistress of royal robes paged at -once. Wonderful electrician though she is, she hasn’t had a worthwhile -order since Cleopatra cast me for Anthony II. in a little domestic -drama whose tragic last act rather overbalanced the light lines of the -start. We shall see what her genius at fabric effects can do for this -trail-worn lady. Remind her of how Shakespeare once remarked: ‘Glad -rags don’t spoil the work of any tragedienne.’” - -The crook of a royal finger brought Old Original to his side. - -“Sin, I wish you personally to see to the selection of a suitable -tear-bowl. Take care that it is polished. Our electro-silver plate -tarnishes so quickly from its own heat. And make sure it doesn’t leak. -My first crocodile tear must be preserved--a glittering trophy to adorn -the filet of m’lady Grief. Now begone, all of you. The biggest little -séance since Creation is going to commence to-night.” - -Alone, to his reflection in the mirror, he telepathed: - -“I know that she is different from the different effect on me. Because -I don’t doubt that she’s bad, I don’t dislike her looking good. She is -unique, this Dame Dolores. I may be able to use her. Should I approve -her method in those troubles she caused on Earth, I just might show her -some larger responsibilities.” - - * * * * * - -Through the seven courses of that most remarkable of feasts, the -spirit-girl Dolores exerted herself to please their Satanic host, -for sake of her babe if not herself. Splendid beyond words was his -appearance, from his scintillant crown to the hem of a mantle charged -to imitate iridescent metal cloth. Corporal Sam Cummings she scarcely -had recognized, so changed was he by the steel-scaled costume of an -old-time knight in which he came arrayed, a veritable “armour of light.” - -Without vanity, she appreciated the kindly soldier-soul’s gasp at first -sight of her, having herself been surprised by the achievement of the -mistress of robes. - -A twist of green flame bound her hair and suspended one large drop, -like an emerald of great price, low upon her brow. The rays of her body -garment clung close, representing a material sewn through with threads -of gold. This fell only to her pearl-roped ankles, but a long cloak of -translucent green waved behind her when she moved, like the following -billows of the sea. - -Her beauty she had learned to deplore. To-night she feared it. -Something worse than admiration had shone in the lurid gaze of the -prime minister and lesser courtier demons, something disturbing in the -silent, critical inspection of His Highness. - -Gracious enough had been Satan’s manner. Not until he sampled the -last course of the delusive seven did his irritation break bounds. He -demanded the presence of the first chef. - -“What was my last promise if you didn’t concoct something I could -taste?” he demanded of that unworthy. “Why do you suppose I had you -heat-tormented to suicide in the _Brillon_ kitchens in Paris if -I didn’t expect you to do better by me gastronomically than your -predecessors? I have been improvising tortures for cook-soul failures -for more centuries than the blades of near-grass used to tint this -pistache ice. Bah, heats me to look at it! Soon as I can replace you, -into the hole for Traitors to Mothers you drop.” - -The wretch wrung his hands. “Not there, your Majesty! I loved my -_mère_. And is not my present labor futile enough? Almost do I despair -of tempting the palate of an immortal, with nothing but chimeras as -ingredients--with flour of the bleached dust of hopes and paprika and -baking-powder of imaginary ground brick or brimstone.” - -“I do not grant that your labor is futile,” Satan snapped. “Surely -you’ll agree that the Ruler of Greater Gehenna deserves the Epicurean -joys afforded gluttonous nobodies of Earth? I want to _eat_, I tell -you. Of course I am more or less immaterial. Every soul in Shadow -Land is, the new-comers less, the old-timers more. But the appetites -of Earth appeal more to me than the self-sufficiency of the angels. I -intend to have them--and to have them satisfied. If by to-morrow you -have not risen to the concoction of something to tempt me, into the -hole for Traitors to----” - -With what sincerity she could assume, Dolores interposed. “I am sure I -never tasted a more delicious pasty.” - -“Is that true? Can you _taste_ it?” - -Satan’s gaze was upon her with the questions, his expression more than -wontedly repulsive from greed. Then wrath at her caught him. - -“Liars are to be commended in a bad cause, but _pitiers_! You must -conquer such impulses. Acknowledge that you have experienced only the -vaguest reminiscence of taste. Come, let us leave this farce of a -feast. I have chosen my Chamber of Chance as the most fit setting for -your tale of the game of life. Lady champion of griefs, precede me.” - -He pushed back from the table. The attendants scrambled after his -example. The head butler turned Dolores’ chair. She found herself -sweeping past the demon parasites, then past His Majesty, standing with -head bent and hand on heart, a derisive smile upon his face. A page, at -a gesture of the King, gathered up the phosphorescent billows of her -mantle. - -She fell into the accent of certain strains of music which were playing -a dim, yet definite march of the dead. No ocean ever sobbed more -sympathetic plaint. No snarl of fife or beat of drum ever timed sterner -step. The music between two spheres--had Handel heard it in his dream -of Saul? - - * * * * * - -The Royal Entertainer was placed in the strongest light at a faro -table which centered a room black-hung and artistically dimmed for the -occasion. Satan sat opposite as a mere auditor, his eyes glowing like -lit lamps from the shadow. - -“A hint or two or three before you begin,” said he. “Remember that the -story’s the thing. If it doesn’t grip, aside from the fact that you are -telling it, you’ll have failed in your art. You’ve read some of the -old-fashioned French novels, I hope?” - -“Oh, yes, Sire, and in the original. My father was a translator and -taught me to read in several languages, French, Russian, Spanish----” - -“Doesn’t all that come in the story? Don’t insult our intelligence with -repetitions. Try to emulate the speed of modern fictionists, with -the--shall we say the slow-mindedness of the old? And leave out the -asterisks. We who have crossed into Mystery Land have every right to -know what’s behind the stars.” - -“You mean----” she faltered. - -“In brief, this: give us a tale with style, but all passages that -should be expurgated left in.” - -Dolores, confused rather than enlightened by these specifications, -essayed her earth-life story with what sprightliness she might. - -“You know New York City?” - -“Do I know New York--I who invented it?” - -Her start was fortuitous; although not intended to be humorous, won the -tribute of a chuckle from him at the head of the narrow monk table. - -“Since you know New York, King Satan----” - -“Call me Pluto,” suggested he. “It is my friendliest name.” - -“King Pluto”--she gave him a smileless nod of agreement--“you doubtless -have heard of Harlem flats?” - -Again he chuckled. “Some of our best little badger games, jealousies, -murders and other such trivial offenses have been conceived and -executed in Harlem flats. Eh, old Original? We call them ‘incubators -of discontent.’ I have visited a few in person on special occasions, -although generally one of the under-demons proves bad enough to start -the regular Harlem crimes. The _Boulevard des Capucines_, Piccadilly, -_Unter den Linden_, the _Corso_ and a narrow street called Wall are -more usual haunts of mine, offering, as they do, larger opportunities. -But this side-issuance is against the rules. Assume that I am fairly -well acquainted with the cubbies of modern cliff-dwellers.” - -“They named me ‘Grief to Men,’ yet I have not meant to be. To explain -how the cruel title came to be forced upon me, I must begin in a Harlem -flat at about my nineteenth year.” - -With the tremors of a spent swimmer forced to greater effort against -the tide, Dolores breasted her tale. Through that evening’s recital -and through those of subsequent evenings, she sought to make of herself -a mere entertainer, to remember the “style” demanded, as learned from -the border-line literature of the several tongues at her command, to -conquer her reluctance and lay bare the facts which had been deemed -worthy of so much space in the newspapers of Earth--for sake of those -whom indirectly she was protecting, to tell her tale with aptitude as -impersonal as though its subject were not herself. - -Yet in the telling came moments when her continuity broke, when her -desperate attempt was abandoned in something more convincing than -“style.” Conquered by emotions which had come with her from the mortal -world to this strange beyond--emotions of reverence, of love, of -passion, of shame--she would fall silent, unable to proceed. At such -times her hands would shield her eyes, while the shudders of a modest -spirit would plead for reprieve; her head droop until her breast -touched the board; her lips refuse for a space to obey her will to -divert. - -Fortunately His Excellency, far from disapproving such violations of -the rules which he had imposed, appeared to regard them as superstrokes -of a talent patent from the start. They lent to the reality of -the tale, prolonged suspense and multiplied his enjoyment in her -sufferings. To him, prone to delight in the inherent worst of devils -and of men, the words she could not force herself to utter often meant -more than those which had fallen from her lips. - -Again, when his own impatience, increased by that of the demon -audience, stripped bare her soul and lashed her, with malevolent -threats, into renewed effort, he would chortle aloud from satisfaction -in his mental degeneracy. - -From his infinite fund of information regarding persons of importance -whose trails had crossed the girl-soul’s own, he was able frequently to -furnish facts regarding others when, at times, she failed. - -The earth-story of Dolores Trent, free in version and filled in from -the super-supply of Satanic intelligence, ensues. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Close to five o’clock the decrepit vehicle which, with a dingy hearse, -had formed the funeral cortège of Trevor Trent, creaked to a stop. The -entrance to the Heartsease Apartments gaped wide, just as it had gaped -a few hours earlier when the remains of the wastrel had passed through -for the last time. The relic of a Jehu, in crinkled topper and faded -blue livery sans buttons, lowered rheumatically from his seat on the -box. Adjusting his soiled dickey, mainstay of a celluloid collar and -green tie, he threw open the door with what might have been taken for -extra ceremony, had he not verbally urged his passengers to hurry lest -he miss the hot free-lunch which, with the weak prohibition-time “suds” -that washed it down, was the most pleasureable event of his day. - -Those who alighted stood a moment in regretful silence--two typical -Harlem matrons, one with a child in arms, both with offspring attached -like lead weights to their skirts. Between them was the girl whom they -were seeing to-day, through the goggles of sensation, in the stellar -rôle of chief mourner. - -“Pore thing--pore young thing!” - -Their tears, more or less sincere, vied with those of the dripping -heavens, although not tears for Trevor Trent. Indeed, they who had -known his life for the past seventeen years had no apologies, even to -the angels, for omitting to weep over his demise. Their toil-dulled -compassion went out in this loneliest moment that succeeds a death to -the orphaned daughter who, hitherto, had been a detached unit in their -congested midst. A substantial escort, they ushered her up the steps, -unheeding the querulous welcome of the young hopefuls left at home. - -“Was it a long, good, joggly ride, Ma?” - -“You mighta tooken us along.” - -“Can _I_ go next time anybody dies? ’Tain’t fair the baby gets all the -fun.” - -Inside the door, the manner that belonged to an occasion was -unceremoniously doffed. Sympathy along this particular block of the -East One-Hundreds never interfered with life’s practicalities. Dolores -Trent received no invitations to sup with her neighbors--expected none, -since any superfluous scraps could be served very well for breakfast. - -Uneasy in the emptiness of the three rooms which for so long had -represented home to her, she settled at the oak desk beside the window -with intent of searching the close-printed want columns of an evening -paper. But at first she could not see to read. - -In this chair her father had struggled over the translations from which -their livelihood had been eked in those better moments when the drug -to which he was addicted would permit him to work. That, of course, -was before he had lost the position through inaccuracies which made -the firm intolerant of trying her as substitute. In the corner to the -right squatted the couch upon which he had wasted into that pallid, -unresponsive thing so lately consigned to the ground, despite her -terrified efforts to stay his departure and to recall him, once he had -gone. How strange, how confusing to be alone, like a flower cut from -its bush and thrown to the wind! It seemed as though she, too, must -wither and die. - -Over him toward the last had come a change which already was dear -to her memory. Always gentle with her, intermittently zealous in an -ambition to train her mind for some worth-while future, he had become -obsessed by an anxiety over her which dulled him to the crave for poppy -paste, hitherto his controlling love and hate. It was something to -remember that, improvident though he had been in life, paupered though -he was leaving her, his distress over her fate in these last days had -conquered his desire for the drug. In the dusk, his last words seemed -again to rasp in her ears. - -“You have beauty and innocence, my girl. Please God a good young love -may protect you on your way!” - -Although her eyes burned, no tears relieved them. Although her heart -near burst with longing to assure him how, above other children, she -had been grateful for his affection, no whisper passed her lips. -She could not reach him now. Merely pitiful was her regret over the -diffidence which had kept her from telling him that, from her earliest -understanding, she had recognized his right to resent her; had -appreciated, on that very account, his tolerance. - -But she must not regret. That would weaken her when most she needed -strength. Had she not done the best she could? In her life-long defense -of his habit, in the protectorate over him which had been her chief -concern from childhood to this early maturity, had she not shown him -that she worshiped him for forgiving the crime she had committed in -being born--in making that brutal exaction of a life for a life? - -The poppy paste she never had criticized, realizing that it had entered -his life at the beginning of her own, when the young mother who had -died to give her birth lay stark, for the first time unresponsive -to his adoration. On that first night of her existence, as often he -had told her, he had chosen her name as a sort of epitaph. Grief.... -Grief.... That was what she had meant to him. - -His improvidence she could not contemn, remembering the brilliant -career which, before her advent, had appeared to be opening before him. -Despite her lonely childhood, despite the endurance which had filled -her time in lieu of laughter and play, she was glad now that always she -had known. With the full hurt of her heart she hoped that, if he had -not understood in life, he knew to-night that always--always--she had -known. - -Darkness had taken possession of the room. - -A thought that darkness possessed her prospects also caused her to -light the gas. She must not stumble into the future. She must cease -looking backward; must turn and face forward. Determinedly she settled -to the “Help Wanted” columns, a hopeful array. - -However, as she read through one after another of the advertisements, -down one column and up the next, the confidence inspired by their -numbers decreased. She had not expected at once to sight an opportunity -in which she might utilize the somewhat haphazard learning with which -she was equipped. But she had hoped for something--_something_ she -could do. - -And then: - - WANTED--Pretty, young girl of innocent type. No experience necessary. - Good pay to right person. Apply Wednesday, 10:30 A. M., to Vincent - Seff, ---- Fifth Avenue. - -In small type, with the reserve of opportunity, it stood out from the -rest. Dolores re-read it. “No experience necessary.” That was the -kindest thing said to her since the cry of her father’s late-born -anxiety: “You have beauty and innocence, my girl.” The advertisement -seemed addressed to her. - -As if in period to or amusement over her conclusions, there sounded a -gurgle from the gas meter. The vapor flickered; sputtered; went out. -Funerals, even in the East One-Hundreds, are expensive. And the slot -of the meter never would have mistaken the single five cent piece -remaining in her purse for the quarter that was its exaction. In -darkness Dolores retired. - -As she lay in her narrow white-iron bed, she saw in the gloom, even -more clearly than under the jet, that the want-ad was meant for her. -The signature had possessed, from first glance, a familiar look. -Vincent Seff ... Vincent Seff.... Could she have heard that name -before? - -With the first ray of gratuitous daylight, recognition flooded her -mind. Of course. Why shouldn’t it look familiar, that name? Often had -she glanced at it when waiting around the corner to safeguard her -father home from the publishing house. In letters of brass, hammered -into an ebony plate, it identified the most alluring windows along that -highway of lures: - - VINCENT SEFF - LINGERIE - -So there was work to be had at “good pay” handling those costly, -cobwebby under-garments which she, although widely separated from them -by circumstances, had paused passionately to admire. So the proprietor -of that house of dear delights he was who wished to employ her, -“without experience,” if only she proved pretty and innocent enough! - -Even after dawn “10:30 A. M.” seemed far distant. But there was much -to do toward vacating the flat. Already the landlord had given her -grace of three days and the new tenants were “moving in.” Everything of -value had gone to the pawnbroker over on Lenox Avenue. The remnant of -furniture would be called for during the forenoon by the junk man who -had advanced her money for the funeral. - -The Trevor Trent alligator suit-case, its original claims to -distinction contested by the years, she had retained for her wardrobe -and keepsakes. This, when packed, she carried across the hall and left, -“to be called for,” with one of yesterday’s emergency mourners. After -neatly sweeping the floors as a wordless return for the un-landlordly -lenience shown her, she stood for one last moment on the threshold of -the living-room. Although no sound escaped her, there rose from heart -to quivering lips the wail of the young animal bereft at once of parent -and home. - -Down at the corner a subway entrance suggested. The estate of Trevor -Trent was closed, his last obligation honorably met. In the purse of -his sole heir lay her legacy, enough to carry her swiftly and at ease -to the neighbor-hood of her promised employment--promised to her by -Vincent Seff. She took out the lone coin and started for the entrance. - -An old friend, the Italian fruiterer, who yesterday had eyed her with -the impressionability of his race, stopped her to press into her hand -a luscious-looking, out-of-season nectarine. Dolores tried to thank -him, but choked on the words. She decided to walk downtown. Without a -clink, her nickel slid into the coin-box at the corner of his cart, -as if fearful of being considered payment for this and other of his -kindnesses since her little girlhood. Dolores, too, was fearful. She -hoped the flush on her wontedly pale face hadn’t made him suspect. At -the corner she glanced back. The old friend waved to her. Happily he -had not heard; had not seen. - -Ten-fifteen. - -Somewhat winded, she hurried her already stiff pace at the warning of -the church-tower clock on the cross-street just above the lingerie -establishment. The outer doors were wide open and through the inner -ones of plate glass she could see gracefully dressed women clerks -shaking out and arranging their flimsy wares with a nice regard for -effect. As yet there looked to be no customers. But then, as Dolores -reminded herself, Vincent Seff’s was an ultra-fashionable shop. The -fine ladies destined to wear his creations scarcely would be stirring -beneath their satin and eider-down at ten-fifteen A. M. - -She was there. But even Father Time could not bully her into entering -at once. She found herself palpitating with the uneasiness of one who, -for the first time, offers her services for wage. Three times she -approached the door before her courage bore her through. - -Down the aisle a fashion-plate of a man stepped out to meet her. - -“May I direct mam’selle?”--he, in unctuous voice. - -On realizing that she had been taken for a customer, Dolores’ spirits -lifted. She glanced hopefully down at her threadbare blue serge suit. -That daybreak pressing must have rejuvenated it more than she had -thought. - -“I came in answer to this.” She produced the want-ad. - -Insult was added to the floor-walker’s obvious sense of injury when a -woman clerk, elaborately coiffed, made comment from the nearest counter: - -“You might have guessed her as the one last victim for Juke Seff’s -slaughter of innocents.” - -His face twisted in the very process of smiling. However, he -managed--and just in time--to frown. - -“One flight up,” he said curtly to Dolores. “Turn to the right and----” - -“To the wrong, deary,” corrected the coiffed clerk. “Then go away, ’way -back and down, down, _down_.” - -Following directions, Dolores found herself in a large room which -appeared to be a modified sort of office, furnished in gray wicker, -with hangings of gray and purple chintz. As every chair and settee was -occupied, she backed to the wall near the door. Surprised to see how -many applicants had preceded her, she began to make comparisons. - -Every shade of complexion, from ash blond to raven-brunette, was -represented. Glancing among them, she might have envied some their -loveliness and fashionable clothes, had she not so sincerely admired -them. Like a flower garden the aggregation looked and smelled, every -girl contributing her favorite color and perfume of sachet or extract -to the steam-heated air. - -With all her appreciation, Dolores’ heart grew heavy. Gone was her hope -in the quiet distinction of her felt sailor hat, gone her assurance -that the advertisement was the sign-board of Fate. Closer to the wall -she shrank when, at precisely half-after-ten, Vincent Seff entered the -room. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -There was no mistaking him. None less than the owner of the shop -would enter with that assured step, and glance among them with that -odd mixture of aesthetic distaste, yet business interest. His manner -announced that they were “goods” to him. - -Seff was a man of certain attractions, somewhere in the later thirties. -Clothed in semi-belted homespun, his lines were so defined as to -suggest stays beneath. He was of medium height, clean-shaved and almost -pallid of face. His brown hair he wore somewhat tousled, probably to -hide its scantiness over the crown. - -By the time he had reached the center of the room, the girls had -straightened and begun to smile and chatter--all, perhaps, except -Dolores Trent. She watched him with the detached interest of her dead -hope. - -Halting, he threw up his delicate hands in an affectation of -bewilderment. - -“Oh, my dears!” he exclaimed, but in a voice lacking animation. “I -shouldn’t have believed there was so much innocence in Gotham. Really, -I am all but overcome.” - -Despite the assertion, his eyes swept this corner and that. - -“Would that I needed an army of innocents instead of the one -superlative!” He stepped to the open door on the right. “Mrs. Hutton!” -There was a click in his voice. - -“Kindly be my board of elimination, Mary,” he instructed the handsome, -white-haired woman who responded. “This galaxy of guilelessness is too -much for little Vin. My alleged discrimination is blinded, my business -shrewdness reels, my senses---- Yes, yes, I know that the lord of -lingerie shouldn’t have ’em, senses. But what can a mere man do?” He -laid one arm about her shoulders and leaned against her, as if for -support. - -“Merer than man,” she said and, as though from dislike, shrugged him -off. - -“Jealous again, dear heart?” - -Although he had smiled with the question, her answer made him flush. - -“A sensible woman isn’t jealous of a thought.” - -“Be good enough, by processes of detection best known to your sex,” he -instructed her more briskly, “to reduce this bevy to five of the most -natural. I’ll see them in the studio.” - -Something additional he murmured into her ear. - -She returned him a strange look. - -“In twenty minutes I’ll show in the five,” said she competently. - -The shop-man addressed the array of applicants. “You will understand, -young and pretty creatures, that refusal implies no aspersion, either -upon your looks or, shall I say, your artful effect of artlessness. -Unfortunately the house of Seff can utilize but one of you and stern -business commands the selection of her best suited to our particular -needs. Thanks for the sight of each and all.” - -With a winning smile, generally distributed, he bowed low, backed -to the chintz-curtained doorway through which he had entered and -disappeared into what, evidently, was the studio. - -Not once had his glance paused in the vicinity of Dolores Trent. She, -in complete reversal of last night’s concept of a Fate especially -interested in herself, lingered only to watch proceedings. - -The softer lines which had made Mrs. Hutton’s face attractive -disappeared with her employer. Sentiment evidently was to have no place -in these “processes of detection best known to her sex.” She formed the -seventy-odd applicants in lines, before which she walked, looking each -closely in the face. - -“Girls wearing rouge to this side of the room.” - -No one moved. With women’s headiest hope, each evidently relied upon -the artistry of her make-up. - -Mary Hutton again started along the lines. Authoritatively she tapped -this rose-blush blond and that brilliant brunette. - -To one who protested that she would not know how to rouge: “You don’t -need to tell me, my dear, anything self-evident. You shouldn’t put so -much in the center of your cheeks. Natural color _spreads_. That’s the -first lesson I give our sales-girls. Start with a dab on the chin, -next a suggestion on your forehead between the eyes, then quite a bit -on the lobes of the ears, where all color starts. Only with these high -spots tinted to guide you can you hope for a natural effect. When -you’re going out, ask for my booklet, ‘If You Must Rouge, Rouge Right.’ -They’ll give you a copy free. Now, please, girls over twenty, fall out!” - -Again hesitation, reproaches and complaints were met with -uncompromising firmness. - -Dolores never understood how it happened, for long since she had given -up. She made no plea to Mrs. Hutton, nor did Mrs. Hutton say anything -in particular to her. In fact, if the forewoman showed any notice of -her other than of an automaton, it looked to be dislike, not approval. -Yet, at the last, after the most impersonal of appraisals, she found -herself among the fittest five. As one, they were waved between the -curtains of gray and lavender chintz. - -The “studio” might have been milady’s boudoir. Of violet velvet were -the carpets and hangings. The spindly Hepplewhite furniture wore -modulated tapestry. There was bric-a-brac scattered about. On the walls -hung etchings. - -Vincent Seff had removed his homespun coat for a smoking jacket of -embroidered lavender silk, with which the more delicate tone of his -shirt and tie blended satisfyingly. He did not rise as they entered; -indeed, did not glance up for several minutes afterward. He was lolling -upon a _chaise lounge_, at work over a drawing--some garment design, -presumedly, as he kept glancing at a rack beside him over which hung -several strips of sheer, vari-tinted fabrics. - -With a sigh of reluctance he laid down the drawing-board, selected a -cigarette from a gold cigarette case and leisurely lighted it. Only -after several deep inhalations did he yield his attention to the -nervous bevy ranged before him. Pleasure covered the regret on his face -as he surveyed them. He sat straight; studied them one by one. - -“This _is_ cruel--the most exquisite cruelty!” Aloud came exclamation -at last. - -He reconsidered the stuffs on the rack. Leaning over, he touched them. - -“Beautiful, aren’t they? Surely the possession and feel of such things -should be enough--enough.” - -His gaze, again shifting, fixed upon the pansy eyes of a silver blonde -whom, from the first, Dolores had admired most. - -“Come closer, Dresden shepardess,” he invited. - -It was all over, settled, Dolores thought. Those defeated should be the -last to deny the _petite_ creature’s claim to election, so soft were -the curves of her figure, so alluring her tints of white, pink, blue -and palest gold. - -“Sorry to seem to disparage you, who deserve a kinder fate,” Seff was -saying. “You can see at a glance that your complexion and hair are too -indefinite to make for contrast with these _crêpes_. Perhaps one day, -for some other purpose----” - -His voice ebbed as does an outgoing tide. His attention veered to the -girl next in line, the most striking of the natural brunettes from the -outer room. - -“My, my, but you are a luscious thing--a lovely, luscious thing!” -Seff’s delicate finger-tips touched together sensitively. “I wish -you to understand that, personally, I like you red-blooded, dark -ones--prefer you, in fact. But you are too colorful for our present -need. You’d make this flesh pink look ashen. Awfully sorry, my dear. A -thousand thanks for the look at you. As for you, lithe gazelle----” - -The manner of his preface somehow foretold the fate of the tall, -willowy girl with nut-brown hair, fleeting flushes and eyes like limpid -pools, whom he next considered. - -Dolores’ heart ached for the three thus gently dismissed. She knew just -how they felt. She would be the fourth to go. Certainly, if they could -not qualify, she should not feel disappointment or offense. Except that -her situation was so desperate---- - -“Go over to my friend Feldtbaum,” Seff continued. “See if he can’t find -a place for you in one of his roof shows. He wants just the effect of -spotless virtue which you give out--likes it for punch. Somehow, for my -purpose, you overlook the part. And the next girl--she won’t do at all.” - -His voice had sharpened. - -Dolores almost leapt from the group, both hands hard pressed against -her heart to still its beat. - -“Not you,” said the artist-merchant. “I’m speaking to the fourth of -you. Pretty face, young, innocent enough, but too much bust--more like -a matron. What I want to-day is--how shall I express it?--the spirit of -modest allurement. You understand, each of you four, why you won’t do? -I am so sorry. I sincerely thank you. Good morning.” - -Dazed was she who watched them go. Her one definite thought was of the -gas meter. How had it known when to click off last night--how been even -more sure than she that the advertisement had been written for her? - -“What am I to call you?” asked Vincent Seff when they were alone. - -“Dolores Trent is my name, sir.” - -“Dolores? A sad little name. And you look to be a sad little dame, sad -and mysterious. That’s what gets me and all the rest--mystery. Tell -me--” his eyes lifted quizzically--“was it your own idea to carry that -symbol?” - -“You mean this--this nectarine? An old friend gave it to me as I was -leaving home.” - -Dolores realized with negligent surprise that the fruiterer’s good-by -gift was still clasped in one of her hands. - -“A real nectarine, is it? I supposed it was artificial--meant to be -sort of emblematic--smooth, cool, not overly ripe, yet with suggestions -of pungency like, for instance, yourself. That was too much to expect, -eh?” - -“Yes, sir, it was,” she admitted. - -He continued to look at her. “Since you don’t claim subtlety, perhaps -I’d better confess that you were selected before I went into the outer -room. I looked over the flock through the curtain.” - -“You--you did?” - -“Yes, and advised Mrs. Hutton not to overlook you.” - -“Then why----” - -“Why didn’t I put the rest out of their misery at once? Because I am -said to be kind-hearted. The name of being kind-hearted saves me money -in getting employees. Then, too, my business has taught me to flatter -all women, rather than offend them. Do you mind taking off your jacket, -Dolores?” - -She answered by compliance. - -Seff arose and stood a moment, stooping to peer into her face. One hand -he clasped around her right forearm and slid it up to her shoulder, -evidently measuring its proportions. Then he tried the firmness of her -busts. - -Dolores did not like this, although she did not say so. She swallowed -against a pressure in her throat and longed for her father as she had -not longed hitherto. For the first time she lifted her eyes to his. - -He flushed; in another moment removed his hands. He showed, however, -to be pleased, that, from the eyes of the applicant, had looked the -attribute which was the chief stipulation of his advertisement. - -“You are not developed as you might be, but you may do better on that -very account,” he said, his manner professional. “There’s a reason. I -am sure we shall be good friends.” - -“I hope that I’ll be able to suit you.” - -“No doubt of that.” - -“I--I mean that I shall be able to do the work.” - -“No doubt of that,” he repeated. - -After helping her back into the serge coat, he stood off in general -contemplation of her, a pucker between his brows. - -“Now, I don’t wish to hurt your feelings, Dolores, but you’ll have -to dress better right from the start. You don’t care if I get down -to business? Your salary will be twenty-five dollars a week for the -present. Later, if you fulfill my expectations and don’t dun me, I’ll -probably raise it. I am going to pay you a week in advance and make you -an expense allowance of one hundred dollars. I of course pay for extra -clothes I order. I want you to go out and make two purchases--first, -one full-sized lunch, of which you look in need; second, a new outfit. -I shall not dictate that your suit be gray, the color we affect in the -store. But I advise that it be quite plain, something along the lines -of what you have on, only of better material. Don’t scrimp in the -quality, will you?” - -“I won’t,” she promised. - -Drawing a leather folder from his breast pocket, Seff sorted out six -twenties and one five-dollar bill and handed them to her. - -Dolores took them, not knowing what to say. One hundred and twenty-five -dollars! - -“You see that I trust you. Take the rest of to-day and the early part -of to-morrow to get yourself togged out,” he further advised. “You may -report to me here around noon-time. I’ll explain then what your duties -will be. Everything satisfactory?” - -“I wish I could thank you,” Dolores murmured, as she stood waiting for -him to turn the knob of the door. - -“You can,” he said in his crisp way. “Give me the symbol.” - -“The--this nectarine?” - -“Yes. I want to sip it.” - -She glanced up to see if he could be joking. But evidently he was not. -His eyes met hers, blue and serious as a child’s. Yet she felt vaguely -disturbed to notice that, as he looked, the tip of his tongue appeared -from between his teeth and wiped both lips. - -At once she gave him the nectarine. She was glad--so very glad--that -she had something he wanted to give him. She told him so. - -“You are, eh?” - -He said no more to her by way of thanks. But she caught several words -of what he added, as if to himself: - -“Sight, touch, the thought of taste. All--that is all.” - -He did not answer when she told him good-by. With an absorbed look he -was turning the nectarine about in his finger-tips. He seemed in no -hurry to bite into it. - - * * * * * - -To the best of her judgment, Dolores followed the instructions of her -first employer. She changed the five-dollar bill in the purchase of -luncheon, for she was, indeed, very hungry. Even the reminder that -she now must eat all her meals alone, did not dull the edge of her -appetite. It did, however, decide that the color of her new suit -should be black--the only sign she might make of the desolation in -her heart. Mr. Seff might not like it. Still he had said that he was -“kind-hearted.” He would condone when he understood. It should have the -“quality” which had been his one proviso--all the quality she could -pay for after she had deducted a week’s room-rent in advance and a -sufficient sum for food and incidentals. - -The room she sought first as the less particular purchase and found -easily--a clean hall bedroom in the “refined adult” district of the -middle West Forties. The lesser details of her “outfit”--a small -hat, gloves, stockings and shoes--she acquired one by one. The suit -she did not decide upon until ten o’clock the next morning when, -conscious of the clock hands and the obligations of good taste thrust -upon her, she exchanged her full residue for a tailor-made Duvetyn, -reduced, according to hearsay in the sample shop, because of its -“trying simplicity.” Holding her own opinion superior to the many other -ambitious things which the sales-woman said about it, Dolores honestly -felt that it was a suit whose distinction of cut might offset, in Mr. -Seff’s opinion, its somber hue. - -Attired in its unpretentious luxury, her hair done low on her neck, as -her father had liked it best, beneath her new toque, she reported at -eleven o’clock in the studio. - - * * * * * - -At this point in the girl-shade’s recital, it was that she tore her -eyes from the expectant smile of Satan the First and Last; covered her -face from the hot gaze of others of her demon audience; allowed her -sprightly utterance to lapse into shuddered lament. - -“Oh, if I had known, if I had dreamed what I had been paid-in-advance -to do! If I could have understood in time the stare of the floor-walker -or the clerk’s reference to ‘the Juke’s slaughter of innocents’! But -the hundred dollars was spent and he showed only surprise at my dismay. -I begged him to let me work out the money in some other department of -the store. But he said that even scrubbing required experience. He had -nothing else for a girl without references to do.” - -The King scowled. “You really have diverted me so far, but your -narrative style has slumped. It is an old trick, fair fiend, that of -pricking up the interest with exclamation points.” - -“Hasn’t even a damned woman a right to some sacred feelings?” Sin -interposed. - -“Even so, this is no confessional and I am no priest. Queer my -attention never was called to this lingerie lord. He seems to be one of -my own sort.” - -As Dolores forced herself again to look at His Majesty, she appreciated -why his habit of wiping both lips with the tip of his tongue had seemed -odiously familiar. - -“Have we no film in the Picture Storage Houses of the machinations of -one Vincent Seff?” With a threat in his voice, Satan turned on the -prime minister. - -Sin met the implication with bravado. “Seff is only a shopkeeper, Your -Highness, a corking bad fellow, I know, but not of especial importance. -Our storage space is overcrowded now with films of far worse than he.” - -Satan’s frown blackened. “He sounds promising to me. Should our Old -Original be found guilty of another crime of omission---- However, we are -to hear more of Seff and your maiden effort, are we not, sweet Grief? -Pray proceed, cutting out those alack-and-alas passages. We shall -assume that you were as innocent as your employer’s requirement at high -noon of that fatal day. It is a reasonable assumption that everybody -_is_ innocent in life’s A. M., eh? At times I take to pitying even -myself for my state of innocuous naughtiness before that little set-to -with the Great-I-Am. Come now, the tale--and see you give us the worst -of it!” - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -From facts later learned, Dolores was able at this point to shift the -viewpoint of her earth story from performer to audience. The incidents -of that first morning’s payment in service of her financial debt she -presented through the eyes of John Calvin Cabot, sole scion of a -seventh generation of New Yorkers and a financier who, through his -inherent aversion to idleness, was rated many times a millionaire. - - * * * * * - -The Cabots were late motoring down town, having been detained at -their upper Fifth Avenue home by a domestic contretemps. The distress -of it still hardened the lines of the man’s somewhat grim-featured -face. Through the downward rush of many blocks, he pondered the first -personal favor he had considered asking his wife in years. - -“Catherine,” he said at last, “I wish you’d come with me to some toy -shop and help in the selection.” - -Catherine Cabot glanced into the limousine mirror, hung near the -vase of her favorite yellow orchids, “to double,” as she put it, -their beauty. She looked a good deal like the orchids, golden-haired, -delicate of outline, fragile of texture, flower-eyed. John glanced -into the mirror, too, rather than straight at her. During their ten -years together he had come to prefer the reflection of his wife to the -original. It was softer. - -“My day is so full. John, you order any toys you like. Have them sent -by special messenger.” - -“You don’t get my idea, Catherine. Jack would be touched and perhaps -punished more than in any other way for his outbreak this morning, if -you selected a birthday present for him yourself.” - -“Can’t you tell him that I did, anyhow?” - -“I could, yes. But I won’t. I expected you’d suggest that lie.” - -“_John!_ I sometimes think Jackie inherited his viciousness straight -from you.” - -A moment the man considered this effective, if unconvincing reproach of -the mother of his only child. - -“I wish you could feel some of my indignation over that statement,” -he made quiet comment. “Now and then you have caprices for the most -unique frankness I ever have noticed in a woman. Tell me, do you have -no yearnings whatever over our unfortunate boy?” - -She looked interested, as if at a compliment. - -“I pride myself on my frankness. Of course any woman has a natural -affection for her own child. But, as you know, I am a beauty lover. It -is not my fault that I can’t love Jack as I should if he looked like -me, or even you.” - -“Perhaps, Catherine, he inherited something from you. Perhaps he -also is a beauty lover. Should you consider the suggestion that the -‘viciousness’ you accredit to me may be in him an extreme case of -nerves--of a suffering over his deformity older than you’d expect at -eight years?” - -She was thumbing the pages of her morocco-bound engagement book and -omitted to reply. - -With a sadness too complete for contempt, he added: “You often have -wondered where Jack’s ugliness comes from. I’ll tell you--from the -ill-favored spirit of our marriage.” - -Catherine looked startled. Then she looked indignant. After that, with -a sigh of long-sufferance, she looked very sweet. - -In a voice gentle as his had been--“Since you take my refusal so hard -as to resort to your semi-occasional marital recriminations, _dear_ -John, I’ll yield. I will go with you to the toy-shop, although probably -I’ll have to break a luncheon engagement in consequence. You can’t ever -say that I am unwilling to do my part. Just a minute until I see what -I have on to-day.” - -Soon and coaxingly she glanced up at him. Her upper lip shortened over -mouse-like teeth which gleamed, sharp and white, between their crimson -guards. Even with the husband who claimed to know her, Catherine never -was chary of her ingenuous, confiding smiles. - -“It’s your turn to make a concession. On our way to the toy-shop, -stop in with me at a showing of underwear at Seff’s. It lasts only -from twelve to one and I’ll miss it if I go further down town. Even -puritanical you may be amused. Seff is rather sensational in his -advertising, but he does import lovely things. Here is the invitation -for the latest of his shows. Do you mind?” - -She handed him a card, engraved and dictioned in the very best form. -She looked rather pleased than otherwise at the manner of her husband’s -consent. - -“How like you, Catherine, to make your concessions C. O. D.! For Jack’s -sake, I shall try not to ‘mind.’” - -A flutter of interest greeted the Cabot’s appearance on the top floor -of the lingerie establishment, for no more discussed pair trod the -made-up scenery of the ways and by-ways of Gotham’s rich. - -Catherine, despite the irregularity of that short upper lip and the -tortured, metallic brilliancy of the yellow of her hair and the -demand for public notice made by her clothes, often was pronounced -the most beautiful matron “among those present”; at least, always was -conspicuous. To-day her perquisitory air of excelling even her splendid -mink coat won her distinction in the fashionable gathering of many -women and a few men. - -John--as his wife was given to explaining--she had married for his -looks. She called him the “handsomest unhandsome man” she knew. Tall, -clean-shaved, black-haired, with dark eyes of a singular intensity, -he wore a manner as unpretentious as his clothes. This was heightened -to-day by an air of detachment from the enforced situation. - -Above greetings and introductions, tintillated comment over the setting -of Seff’s top floor. Arranged as a miniature auditorium, its rows of -ashwood chairs faced a small stage, equipped with footlights. Wrought -on the gray velvet curtain that concealed the exact nature of this -adventure in advertising was the title-- - - THE LITTLE OLD LADY OF LORRAINE - -At the twelfth chime of a concealed clock, an orchestral whisper -of the _Marseillaise_ caused the audience, creatures of habit, to -seek their places. John Cabot, although offended as always by the -commercialization of patriotism in cafés and music halls and the like, -stood in front of the prominent chairs to which an usher had led his -wife and himself. Those about him also stood, if with treasonable -sighs; as the music died away relievedly sank into their chairs. - -The curtain parted. Vincent Seff appeared and lifted the right of his -artistic hands. - -“Patrons--may I say friends?” he began when their mannerly palm-patting -had ceased. - -The silence of curiosity greeted his hesitant, yet pleasantly delivered -announcement. Only Mrs. Hutton understood his need of courage, his -desire for pseudo-sincerity. Virulently though she appeared to -condemn him, she evidently wished him to succeed in this, his monster -imposition. She had poured the stiff drink which lubricated his voice -to that especial smoothness. She stood in the improvised wings, an -expression which would have defied a mental analyst hardening her face, -as she listened to the delivery of the brief speech which she had -helped him prepare. - -“Always have we admired the lingerie from Lorraine, you and I. But how -many of you have stopped to wonder whose hands are responsible for its -textile exquisiteness, its chic and the needlework that makes it more -lovely than any other in the world? With the many changes which war -has wrought, came the fear that our American fair would be reduced to -less attractive underwear. Imagine, then, my joy when there arrived -recently, unsolicited and in trust, a shipment from my little old lady -of Lorraine.” - -The speaker smiled upon the interested faces below in humid, -self-deprecatory appeal. - -“The pluck as well as the embroidery of this maker was, all through the -war, a marvel to the trade. For weeks her home was under enemy fire -and the grand dame herself in constant danger of her devoted life. But -alone in her cellar workshop she plied her needle as industriously as -the _Boches_ laid down their shells. Such heroism swells the heart and -chokes the voice.” - -After a brief substantiating pause, the shopman continued, as if -glorying in his show of emotion. - -“Why did she do it? Not for herself, surely, since the value of -her work would have counted little against the loss of her life. -Patrons--friends--_she did it for France_. Every mite that she -earned was tossed into the coffers of her country. And now that the -reconstruction period is on, she still finds work for her withered -hands to do--still not for herself--but for the war orphans of the -French. Every cent which this shipment yields will be spent on children -whom the great struggle has deprived of their natural protectors. Not -even a commission will be subtracted. No price has been set upon the -things which I am about to show you. I feel that they are priceless. In -the name of that little old lady of Lorraine I shall give them to you -for what you offer and have no fear for the net results. To show them -from boxes on my counters--the mere thought has seemed unworthy the -trust placed in me. Will you try to like the more unique method which I -have devised?” - -Bowing deeply and repeatedly in response to perfunctory applause, -Vincent Seff backed from view. Orchestral whispers of the _Marche -Lorraine_ accompanied a flurry of exclamation. The gray velvet curtain -parted; lifted. - -The set was a bedchamber. Through a half-open door showed the -suggestion of a tiled bathroom. Another door and the two windows were -closed. Once the eyes became accustomed to the indeterminate light, -they made out rare hangings and furniture that looked to wear the stamp -of Louis XIV. Beneath the satin coverlet of the bed, an elongated lump -suggested a human figure asleep. Upon one pillow a lace cap indicated -rather than covered a mass of murky hair. - -For minutes the orchestral rendition of Schumann’s _Traumerei_ was -the only action of the piece. In time the pantomime of a morning’s -awakening began--a shudder of the coverlet, a stretching of legs -beneath and rounded arms above. The face which uplifted from its -background of locks and lace suggested a loathful emergence from -dreams. With some degree of energy a hand reached out and pressed a -bell. That accomplished, the luxurious sleeper slipped beneath the -eider-down and again drowsed off. - -The entrance of a soft-treading, black-garbed, middle-aged maid brought -diversion. Her lips moved in a supposed good-morning. She drew up the -window blinds, flooding the room with light. Her disappearance into the -bathroom was followed by the plash of water in a tub. - -Her simulation of annoyance on returning to the bedside, to find the -dreamer reclaimed, was a nice histrionic bit. She reminded; urged; -finally shook. At last the lady of lethargy, smiling deliciously, -aroused to a sitting posture. The thrown coverlet bared two rosy feet -for the enclosure of satin mules. She deserted the nest of the night, -crossed the room front stage and stood with arms uplifted as an aid to -her yawns. - -The spotlight found her some seconds before the maid could throw over -her a bathrobe of silk so pliant that it might have been drawn through -a bracelet. - -Inhalations and forward-leanings moved the audience. - -Indeed, there was cause for comment. The daring of Seff in his -presentation, the novelty of the crêpe sleeping-gown which, innocent of -_filet_ or ribbons, depended solely upon its Empire lines and girdling -silken cord--even the type of the model was rare. - -Pretty of face beyond question, with a luminous sort of pallor, red -lips delicately full and purplish, child-wide eyes, she stood revealing -through the sheer a body both slender and rounded. Discussions of -her as frank as they were low-pitched proved that the pantomime was -“taking” from the start. - -John Cabot was of the few who suppressed remark, but none watching him -could have doubted his interest. - -Catherine curved an amused smile at him. - -“_Et tu, Brute_,” she murmured. - -At first from natural endowment and later from deliberate effort, -John always had believed in the virtue of women until compelled to -disbelieve. To-day he was studying neither the exquisite, hand-stitched -garment nor the “points” of the manikin who wore it. - -Had he really seen lines of suffering at the corners of that smiling -mouth? Had he imagined a look of distress in eyes which momentarily had -met, but now evaded his? He was no sentimentalist. Yet he wondered. - -Vincent Seff, from a chair at the far right of the first row, looked -entertained by his own entertainment. He sat slouched forward, knees -crossed, elbow on them, chin in palm, eyes up-gazing. A flush was on -his rather anaemic skin. Occasionally his cheeks twitched in an odd, -carefully controlled smirk. He nodded, now and then, as if well pleased. - -John, glancing toward the shopman, saw the tip of his tongue appear and -wipe both lips. About Seff, too, he wondered. - -From the wings, Mrs. Hutton watched all--the play, the “house,” the man -who had conceived and perpetrated the coup and the newspaper reporters -upon whom he depended to give it city-wide circulation. She, however, -did not wonder about Seff. Only too well she understood why he was off -guard at the moment, showing tendencies which, ordinarily, his policy -would have concealed. - -She did not wonder, no. But she feared for him as much as, with a -reaction that crushed the fear, she hotly, contemptuously resented him. -As she studied the look fixed upon the girl whom he had chosen at first -glance from a room full of attractive applicants, almost did she hate -him. The chains of the hideous relationship which shackled together him -and her seemed to clank as she turned from his unconscious pantomime to -that which he had foreplanned. - -The playlet proceeded. - -The model trailed her bath robe to the door of the tiled room, there -to throw it off and disappear within. Presumedly she plunged into her -tub. At any rate, her next appearance, although fleeting, enhanced that -impression. Just a glimpse of her was caught, as the maid pushed wider -the door to supply a bath towel, but a glimpse that brought gasps from -the audience sharp as though they, too, had taken a cold plunge. - -With hair twisted in a Grecian knot atop her head, she showed for the -brief moment before the door was closed, garbed only in the flimsiest -of silken undervests. By comparison she looked amply clad when, some -seconds later, she reëntered the bedroom, stockinged, slippered and -girdled, her outer garment a confection of the chemise persuasion -which laid claim to modesty only in its blush hue. The length lack of -this costume was remedied by the maid. After a chase whose obvious -object was further to show the cut and texture of the display, the -woman succeeded in noosing the head of her charge with a hemstitched -petticoat. - -Upon the door sounded a knock of that portentiousness met only on -the stage. In effective dismay, the manikin paused front stage, -the spotlight obligingly following her example. The maid, moved by -belated prudery, scurried to a closet, from which, after a search -whose duration would not have recommended her either for system or -dispatch, she emerged with a negligee that matched the morning set. -This she draped about her young mistress and stood off to admire with a -deliberation accented by repetitions of the portentious knock. - -When the door at last was opened, expectation of the unusual was -gainsaid by the man-servant who laid several ribbon-bedizened boxes -upon the couch and departed. Mistress and maid became animated by -curiosity. The parcels were undone and their contents examined--a dozen -sets of lingerie only less lovely than the one worn by the model in -that they were less attractively displayed. - -These still lay about the room on chairs, tables and bed when, -at entertainment’s end, Vincent Seff himself appeared before the -footlights. His face was noticeably flushed, his voice thicker than -before in his invitation that all ascend the stage and personally -inspect the shipment from Lorraine. - -If applause meant appreciation, he must have been gratified. And, in -fact, the tribute was sincere. The hour’s advertising whimsy had been -amusing and artistic. Commendatory chatter lifted as the spectators -disturbed their chairs. - -John Cabot was preoccupied by an analysis of the look seen on the face -of the master of ceremonies, a look which had intensified as Seff -studied, not so much the piece as the star. Since a certain incidental -which the financier had noticed, the elaborate exhibition had become -offensive to him. - -In the manikin’s small tussle over the adjustment of her -petticoat, just when she had been laughing with most abandon, two -somethings--gleaming, small yet large in suggestion--had dropped from -her eyes and been absorbed by the crêpe. - -That she could weep for shame, while successfully playing her -frolicsome part, meant a great deal. Many young girls might have wept -before entering upon such a career. Most could be imagined as weeping -afterward. But to realize and suffer enough for tears in what evidently -was an initial step--Although Catherine often had told John that he was -losing his sense of humor, nobody could have declared him deficient in -vision. - -He was recalled to the immediate present by the lifted voice of his -wife addressing Seff. - -“I will give five hundred dollars,” she was saying, “for the set -shown on the model. The things are exquisite and the charity deserves -response.” - -“My _dear_ Mrs. Cabot!” The shopman over-accented that familiarity -which the lofty seem so to appreciate from traffic-policemen, waiters, -hotel clerks and the like. “The identical set is yours. I thank you -from my heart and from the hearts of those orphans of France.” - -“I’ll take them with me,” stipulated Catherine. “Have the box put in my -car, please. And, Seff, I am in something of a hurry.” - -The crispness of her conclusion was like frost on a sunlit window pane. -The merchant showed himself nipped by it. - -“I’ll attend to your order at once, Mrs. Cabot.” - -Disregarding the importunities of less prominent would-be purchasers, -he hurried back to the stage. - -“Mary--_Mary_!” His voice was pitched several notes above its wonted -mellifluence. - -Mrs. Hutton appeared. - -“Take charge out here, Mary,” he directed. “Have the ladies step up and -examine the lot. Every garment has the inimitable chic attained only -by the French, and the sizes vary, so that---- _You_ know, Mary. Take -anything that is offered. Such patrons aren’t going to fail our lady of -Lorraine.” - -Far too elated was he to notice the composite of his chief aide’s -expression as she observed his uneven manner, his flushed face and -the glitter of his eyes. In the same thought, she sneered, pitied and -suspected. She turned to attend the gathering patrons. - -Seff had not noticed, but another had. John Cabot had followed to the -stage and now stood contemplating the closed door that gave upon the -suppositious bathroom. Through it the shopman had disappeared. A mental -reminder that the whole circumstance was doubtless gross chicanery and, -at the worst, none of his affair, seemed somehow dampened by his memory -of those two small, enlightening somethings which he had seen drip from -the eyes of a laughing girl. From within he could hear fragments in -Seff’s thick tones. - -“A hit.... Five hundred for the set you adorn.... Let me help, you -dream.... No time--she’s in a hurry.... I _will_.... Hush, dear heart, -they’ll hear you.” - -Ensued a duet of his chuckles and gasped protests in a softer voice. -The end unmistakably was a scuffle. - -John turned away, disagreeably impressed. Many of the fashionables had -ascended the stage, where Mrs. Hutton was offering the Seff confections -for sale. He advised himself that he must be imagining the alert turn -of the forewoman’s head toward the closed door and the annoyance that -falsified her smile. Then he flouted the advice. He didn’t imagine--_he -saw_. The woman _was_ alert and annoyed. - -The conclusion was substantiated. Sounds that might have been laughter -or sobs percolated through the key-hole. Rasped gutterals interrupted, -plead, threatened. There followed a rushing sound and a thump against -the inside of the door. - -John recrossed the stage. As he hesitated, he saw Mrs. Hutton drop the -garment under discussion and approach him. - -Next moment a scream rent all uncertainty. - -The most cynical scarcely could have mistaken the cry for anything -but one of terror, even without the words--intense, jumbled, -regardless--that translated it. - -“No.... _No_.... I hate you.... Father, help me--_save me_!” - -Before Mrs. Hutton could force the resisting handle of the door, John -Cabot had put his shoulder against the panel and broken the lock. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The scene within the back room of the bath-set impressed John like a -still on a film which had been full of action. First glance might have -convinced a superficial person that intrusion was a mistake, but the -financier was not limited to first glances. - -Leaning against the farther wall, her apparel reduced to the flimsiest -of the samples on recent display, stood the manikin. Both her arms were -upraised. Both hands clasped the shoulders of Seff. - -John glanced away; looked again; saw other things. - -The girl was straining to push away the shopman, not to draw him to -her. In her eyes, uplifted at the crashing of the door, was pictured -the terror which had sounded in her cry. Her face was white as -frost--looked the whiter for a mark, shaped after the imprint of teeth, -which was reddening in the flesh of her cheek. - -Self’s one arm wrapped her body tightly. His other hand was entangled -in her flimsy garment at the breast. His face, also turned toward -the door, shuddered with an absorbed, strange look between hope and -hopelessness. - -John Cabot stood on the threshold, held by astonishment. He had heard -that high prices oft times were exacted of shopgirls, as of aspirants -for the stage. But this situation would have seemed incredible except -that there it was before his eyes. He felt a demand for initiative. - -In that scant moment of hesitation, the pros and cons of the issue, as -concerned himself, flashed through his mind. The principles in this -behind-the-scenes passion play were not of his class, or so Catherine -would have said. Both were total strangers to him, therefore their -relationship not his affair. More or less undesirable notoriety must -result from interference--the inevitable complement? to the Cabot -millions. - -However, just as he knew himself not to be a number of things which -Catherine would have wished him to be, he was one thing in particular -which she did not wish him to be. There had been many times when, -frankly, he had congratulated himself on having been a human being long -before a multi-millionaire. - -Through the space which he had vacated in the doorway flocked a covey -of fashion’s vultures. His audience formed as he crossed the room and -laid a golf-hardened grip upon Seff’s shoulder. There was an instant of -resistance. Then he tore the man away from the cowering girl. - -Almost was he tripped to a fall. Glancing down, he noted a silken swirl -upon the floor. His first act, after throwing aside the drink-maddened -roué, was to gather up the negligee last shown outside and lay it about -the model’s shoulders. - -He faced around to meet Seff’s thick-lipped threats. - -“Wha--what do you mean? You’ll answer to me for your interference and -before you’re a minute older.” - -The shopman chopped out at him recklessly, landing several blows. - -Taller than Seff by half a head, superbly fit in comparison, John stood -as if stricken by sudden inability. His eyes were upon the scandalized -throng that had crowded into the room, rather than his opponent. He -protected himself in a confused, inadequate way from a succession of -attacks. The while he was considering a plan to spare the girl odium -and involve her tormentor. - -Evidently elated by the success of his tactics, Seff paused for -emphasis. - -“What d’you mean butting into my affairs?” he demanded. - -“This,” answered John. - -With the word, he sent his right fist to a particular spot in the -aesthetic’s neck. - -The effect was startling. Seff’s head lopped, his eyes rolled, his body -wavered and stretched its length upon the floor. - -Fright-cries rose from the crush about the door; above them, a shrill -demand in Catherine’s voice. - -“John, are you mad?” - -The first person to reach the prone figure was, however, without -utterance. An equivocal look of dread and triumph was on Mary Hutton’s -face as she knelt beside the man who was her employer and more; raised -his head to her knee; held a bottle of smelling salts to his nose. - -John Cabot’s attention returned to the cause of the bout. - -She had wrapped the negligee closely around her and stood awaiting -developments with dilated eyes--the model. On her cheek the mark of -teeth showed redder than before. At his glance, she took a forward -step, as if to thank him, then, embarrassed by the press of people -around the door, stopped. - -Without words, they two regarded only each other. Quite still they -stood, looking. - -And as they looked, comrade spirits seemed to become visible in the -glow of an incipient understanding. Beside her--faded in until to John -it became as plain as her body--appeared a vision of loveliness and -lure. Shy, yet unafraid, this vision beckoned him. From eyes bluer than -the troubled deeps of the girl’s gaze, it smiled on him. With hair -golden as the dreams of a child and tenuous as woman’s wiles, it awoke -in him a thrill like that on seeing the home-land banner in foreign -climes. - -The while, in imagination, he heard the _Spring Song_ of Mendelssohn, -vaguely passionate, played by the pure-yearning notes of a flute. -The fragrance that accompanies the aspirations of youth filled his -nostrils. A thought of apple-blossoms hurt his mind with midsummer -weariness. - -From his heart, as if aroused by its increasing beat, uprose response -to the vision. Not as if born of the moment--rather as if long -protected from impious eyes--an emotion new to him seemed to take -form. He felt that the girl, as well as he, must see and recognize. - -Cruel with tenderness, eager with fear, the emotion that had arisen -from his heart-beats passed, like a gallant shape, from him to her. In -command that was, in truth, but a prayer, it faced the comrade soul of -her. - -For a moment and an age, the eyes of the financier and those of the -shopgirl met and held, each pair the other. Met also, in that age of -moment’s length, the lad Amor, a creature of the spirit whose first -desire is to have and to hold, with Innocentia, one not more to cherish -than to fear. - -A low-voiced, fragmentary conversation recalled John to the more -material present. - -“You, Mary?” - -“Who else? At your worst I wouldn’t dare to desert you.” - -“Any more than I would you. If you hadn’t poured me so much of---- -Anyhow I’ve done what you said I couldn’t do--put over a sweatshop fake -that----” - -“Hush, Vin. Come, get up.” - -Turning, John saw Mrs. Hutton steady Seff to his feet. - -An imperative voice at his own elbow advised: “Better come with me at -once, John, unless you wish to get into the newspapers.” - -“That is just what I do wish, Catherine,” he said. - -“But as the protector of this latest _Inconnue_?” - -“Unknown?” John glanced at his wife surprisedly, then on to the wall -against which the manikin had stood. - -Gone was the luring vision which his mother had taught him to believe -was the soul of womanhood. Gone also the girl. - -His sense of loss must have shown in his face. - -“Why not play Don Quixote for some one more ambitious?” Catherine -gibed. “Ask me to nominate them--as your wife I could choose the -subjects with regard to the family honor and glory. I tell you there -are reporters in that crowd. Once they recognize you----” - -“Reporters?” He took a step toward the crush. “Publicity--that’s the -cure for this scourge. Where are they?” - -“But, John----” The wife who never could decide whether she disapproved -or admired her husband the more, remembered in the emergency to be -guileful. “Would you crush the victim to cure the scourge? Shouldn’t -chivalry protect the good name of that girl? At least, she is young.” - -“And pure as a white violet. For once you are right. Excuse me a -moment. I must find a telephone.” - -He strode away. - -“Mule and mad, at that--a mad mule!” - -The finality of Catherine’s thought-tribute returned her to her own -predicament. Her shrug redraped about her shoulders the satin-smooth -mantle of her social superiority. There was a chance that she might -escape inclusion in whatever notoriety should ensue. Did not a woman -and a mother--the occasion evoked a thought of Jackie--owe her first -duty to herself? Let John take the consequences of his mania for -reform, even to being advertised as loitering alone at the lingerie -show! - -Directly upon the decision to detach herself from possibly unpleasant -consequences, she skimmed the edge of the crowd and left the store. - -When John Cabot returned to the stage he saw that Seff already was -surrounded by the reporters. Mrs. Hutton stood at his elbow, a bottle -from which she evidently had poured some sort of restorative in one -hand, an emptied glass in the other. - -The shopman looked distressed, either by the dose pressed upon him -or by his recent experience--perhaps by both. He was speaking with -something of the fluency of his recent “speech,” the while adjusting -his delicately-toned tie and brushing from one sleeve a reminder of his -fall. - -“I am Vincent Seff, owner of this establishment. A slight -misunderstanding occurred inside, yes. But I have a hope that you good -people, also guests at my entertainment, will respect my hospitality -enough to withhold its unfortunate _finale_ from your papers.” - -The press representatives, three women and a lone man, looked dubious -at this hypothetical claim. A second man, tilted in a chair against -the wall, who was in the act of finishing a creditable sketch of the -manikin, lifted to Cabot a companionable grin. - -“Good, ain’t it?” - -“Yes, it is. What will you take for it?” - -“What will I take?” The grin broadened. “Why, a better art job than the -one I’ve got.” - -“Unfortunately I can’t pay that.” - -“Sorry not to oblige an admirer of my work.” The artist banged down -the forelegs of the tilted chair and gathered up his paraphernalia for -departure. “If it’s your nice little idea to keep the girl’s picture -out of the paper, it wouldn’t help any to withhold this. The camera -gang departed on the run some time ago.” - -Seff, at Mrs. Hutton’s touch on his arm, had turned and seen the -addition to their group. He continued in urgent tones: - -“Of course you must write your stories right, boys and girls. But I do -wish you’d go light on this finish. For the sake of a highly valued -patron, I should regret to have a certain name figured. Also, it -scarcely seems fair to jeopard the chances of an overly impulsive young -girl, just at her start of life.” - -“But her scream, Mr. Seff?” - -“And the door-smashing?” - -“Not to mention that lively bout?” - -The trio of women scribes prodded him, as though satellites of the -sport instead of fashion page. - -The dapper designer plunged. - -“I admit that there was a small fracas, but it was due entirely to -a misunderstanding. It is all patched up now, therefore not worth -mentioning. For once I was at fault in my choice of an employee. You -will agree, I am sure, that my little attempt at an artistic display -would not have carried an evil suggestion to the clean minds for whose -pleasure and profit it was planned. I scarcely know how to express -myself, friends. Do try to appreciate my position.” - -He glanced, as if for helpful suggestion, toward Mary Hutton, then went -on, evidently planning his defense in its delivery. - -“The poor girl was hysterical from nervous strain over her first public -appearance. She could not have intended to give such rein to her -impulses as--as---- Of course, a woman who will exhibit herself in such -a rôle is not exactly---- Well, I’ll not go into that. But I owe it to -myself to say that even I, experienced at judging women by their face -values, would not have believed our guileless-looking Dolores Trent -capable of a deliberate attempt to compromise an employer who----” - -“_Cad!_” - -At the interruption, Seff took a backward step, evidently remembering -the reach and force of the speaker’s punch. - -John Cabot, with a frown, stayed the three women and lone man who, -having been given the all-important name of the woman in the case, were -on the point of taking wing. - -“Best give a minute,” he advised. “You haven’t got the real story -yet. This sale is a fake. The goods were manufactured in Seff’s -own sweatshops right here in New York. The money was taken under -false pretenses. I am not in position to state just how usual among -supposedly high-class shops is the sort of indelicacy we’ve witnessed -this morning. Fortunately, however, I am able to make an example of -this instance. I am John Cabot. I ask you to investigate.” - -“I have heard enough of this contemptible attack, no matter who or -what you are.” Seff hurled himself into the breach as bravely as his -condition would permit. “Nothing but respect for the feelings of -your wife has kept me from having you ejected before this. You cannot -influence the newspapers against us. We are, as you should know, -persistent advertisers. I ask you now to go quietly and at once, before -I----” - -For a moment it seemed that his advice had been accepted. John Cabot -turned and crossed to the rim of the stage. There he lifted his hand to -the lingering society contingent. - -“I have sent for the police,” he said. “They’ll be here any minute now. -They have a habit, I’m told, of taking the names of eye-witnesses. -Subpoenas generally arrive at elsewhere-essential moments, so I’d -suggest that such of you as have any important engagements for the near -future----” - -He had said enough. The remaining “valued patrons” broke the leash of -curiosity and hurried away after the example of the “thoroughbred” Mrs. -Cabot. Be it added that they waited not for the elevator, nor counted -the steps in the flight of their descent. - -For diverse reasons, a group remained with John Cabot during his brief -wait for the detectives of the nearby Tenderloin police station. The -reporters stayed because of the “realer” crux of the story explaining -the scream of a shopgirl; Mrs. Hutton because, as she had asserted, she -dared not desert Seff; the owner himself because of the competent look -of a golf-steeled right, swinging from an arm whose length and strength -he knew. - -The while, Seff gained considerable reassurance from a _sotto voce_ -consultation with his forewoman who, in the emergency, seemed to have -reversed the usual relationship of employed to employer. He greeted -the officers as though they had come at his request and asked that -they search the store for the model. She, although the cause of the -disturbance, would be needed, he declared, as his chief witness. - -Upon the report that no trace of her could be found, he addressed -himself to the financier with a noticeable cessation of resentment. - -The girl was gone, he pointed. That fact was substantial evidence -of her guilty intent toward himself. No real harm had been done and -nothing would be gained by going through with his arrest on a charge -that could not be proved. Certainly, with their combined influence, the -unpleasant aftermath of what so many had voted a pleasant morning could -be kept from the papers. Had Mr. Cabot no thought for the consequence -of the use of his name in such a connection? Even though he cared -nothing for his own reputation, did he not owe something to his family? -Sentiment aside, with no complaining witness what could he gain to -equal what he should lose by carrying out his threat? - -“But there is a complainant,” John assured him pleasantly enough. “That -rôle is mine.” - -“_You?_ Can you possibly intend----” - -Mrs. Hutton it was who found voice for direct demand. “What is the -charge? We have a right to know, sir.” - -“Assault.” John Cabot directly faced the shopman. Humor twitched his -mouth as he asked: “Did you think I let you hit me for my own selfish -pleasure?” - -As the motor patrol purred its way to the station house, however, the -amusement faded from his face. The Fall air whipped his longing for -the gentler zephyrs of Spring, for the breath of apple-blooms, for the -sound of a flute playing Mendelssohn’s vaguely passionate theme. - -He forced himself back to certain troubleful questions of the moment. -The manikin, Dolores Trent--what of her? The very strength of his -desire to find her advised that he should not look for her. Why favor -himself as a trailer, while jailing Seff? But where would she hide -herself--what do? - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Morning in a land of endless twilight! - -The spirit-girl lay late abed after that first awakening in Gehenna, -as she realized with the switching off of the mauve curtains which had -shut sunrise from her chamber. On her show of weariness after last -night’s ordeal, she had been told how King Satan, after his preference -for the customs of Earth, had time apportioned into periods of day and -night, with eventide and dawn, midnight and noon exactly fixed. By -means of his electric sun, moon and attendant stars, supplied from the -power accumulators on the eastern and western fringes of the Gehennan -desert, the semi-light shed from the eternal radiance of the Elysian -Fields was made to seem negligible. - -Dolores had been grateful for the respite. The shades about the -court, she had noted, looked more or less material according to -their naturalization into Shadow Land. She herself had been declared -unusually visible, even for a new-comer, and was expected to have the -habits of her late estate. She had not slept the sleep of Earth, any -more than she had tasted the suggestion-foods of last night’s banquet, -except as a reminiscence of taste. And yet, with eyelids closed against -sight of what was, and her inner vision limited to only the dearest of -what had been, she had passed into a sort of soul-rest--into memories -and imaginings that were one fond, commingled dream of John Cabot. - -Further aroused by a subservient voice, she sank an elbow into the -damask-sheened pillow; lifted herself; opened eyes and mind to the now. - -“Your shower is turned on, m’lady.” - -The repetition was in English. Before, the same words had been -spoken in French. Such perfect intonation in two languages piqued -her interest. She glanced around to see standing beside her couch a -woman-shade in the black and white of service. - -“Madame’s hair is so black, perhaps she is Italian. I trust I have not -startled you. His Majesty ordered that your bath be of cold cathode -rays. They are very exhilarating if one can stand the shock.” - -Although this third offering came in the honey-sweet language of love, -a look of hate was on the serving woman’s face. - -“Who are you?” Dolores asked in the tongue of first choice. - -“You may call me Adeline. I am your maid.” - -Somewhat disconcerted by the unservile gesture with which a robe of -rainbow lights was held out for her convenience, Dolores put another -question. - -“How do you come to speak three languages? And doesn’t the name Adeline -mean of noble birth?” - -“Ah, Madame also is French. She will the better understand.” A smile -less pleased than bitter stiffened the patrician lips. “I am of noble -birth and on earth was treated according to my rank. But the judgment -that consigned me to the Realm of Reversals has changed all that. Here -we who were ladies serve our former maids. And hard taskmistresses they -are, given thus the power to equalize their past humiliations.” - -A thought of the fate awaiting Catherine Cabot made Dolores shudder. “A -grim conceit, that--I suppose the King’s own?” - -The demoted noblewoman nodded. “Not Lucretia Borgia herself could have -conceived so cruel a sentence. It is not the tasks from which I suffer, -but the thought of doing them. My first position was to serve the -creature whom I had treated with all consideration in my household, she -who afterward cost me my husband, my position in society and my life. -Madame understands? I killed her. Madame’s shower is turned on.” - -She who never had been served sought to refuse the offices of this -quondam great lady. On Earth no one had drawn up the morning shades for -her, she declared; had brushed the cobwebs of dreams from her lashes -with dampened cloths; had proffered the steaming beauty cup, perfumed -her bath, placed her mules, held her robe. No need was there for -Adeline to suffer while under assignment to her. - -She was ill-repaid for her kindly intent. - -“It is, then, as I feared. Madame is but one of them herself.” - -With contemptuous manner, m’lady-who-was insisted upon performing those -duties which she knew so well from having exacted them. - -“I must serve you,” she explained, “whether you wish to be served or -not. I must work out my sentence. None dares tamper with the Rule of -the Realm of Reversals. My husband warns me----” - -“Your husband? Are you so fortunate as to have his company here?” - -A moment the maid contemplated the eagerness on her new mistress’ face, -then gave a vicious twist to the mass of dark hair she was arranging. -“That he received a red ticket is the one bit of justice I have found -in Greater Gehenna. He bungled the trick of obtaining that verdict in -man’s favor usually granted gratis by the world.” - -“You speak, Adeline, as though you hated him.” - -“Hate him?” Fury shook the cultured voice. “Is it not because of -him that I am here? And he--always he seeks me at the fête of -servant-fiends to complain of the humiliations forced upon him by his -ex-valet, for well he knows that his only chance of reversal will come -through me. Since Madame is so good as to inquire, I do hate the man -I loved. I hate him the more, perhaps, for controlling his hate of -me--for his pretense of continued love.” - -To Dolores, the strange creature’s will to hurt her by twisting her -hair was kind compared with this unintentional squeezing of the -hope-drops from her heart. Would every one about the court have power -to make her suffer for her past? When he whose companionship the lost -soul of her craved so unutterably should one day be sentenced to this -realm for their common social crime, would he also hide hate in a -pretense still to love? - -But no. Although on Earth John had not sought her as had other men and -at the last had seemed to desert, she dared not believe that the great -heart of him could change when he came through the gate into the Lower -Land--when, one day, he joined her. - -The mother-soul’s good-morning to her babe was interrupted by a message -from the King. She was to attend him at once in the Garden of Bad Luck. - -Dismay possessed Dolores. Probably His Majesty meant to probe deeper, -with his knife-like cynicisms of last night, into the wounds of her -former state. But a thought of the folly of foreboding soon steadied -her. She had no choice. - -“I shall go at once,” she told the maid. “I feel quite rested and -strong.” - -“I should suggest to Madame that she omit to mention her restful -night,” Adeline said. “Otherwise he will not permit that it happen -again. He awaits beside the Hard Luck fountain.” - -Dolores in turn offered advice. “While I am gone, doff that cap and -apron and imagine you are a lady again. He’ll never know, for I won’t -tell and the babe can’t.” - -“Never know, _he_?” The French soul smiled briefly. “Madame perhaps -will excuse, but evidently she is not yet acquainted with m’lord of -reversals. _Know?_ I myself should tell him if none else did. He would -compel me to do so.” - -To Dolores’ relief, the King seemed to have forgotten her regrettable -history when she found him awaiting her at the spot of his -appointment. At any rate, he made no reference thereto. - -“I am going to show you around my place,” he informed her. “I take -a pleasant shame in it. Guess I’ve got what real-estaters call ‘the -property sense’--a brand of nonsense.” - -He led her through an avenue-like effect of lime trees to a lawn of -dwarfed red-top, where stood a winged vehicle, as much an improvement -over the planes of Earth as was the motor-car over Grimes’ one-horse -shay. - -“My aeromobile,” he announced with prideful gesture. - -Although of a mind given to taking for granted all mechanical details, -Dolores could not but wonder at this craft. Its wings looked more like -those of a huge hawk than the rigid spread of the aeroplanes she had -seen flying low over Central Park. Instead of standing upon wheeled -running-gear, bird feet of a proportionate size clawed into the ground. -In its head glittered a constantly moving pair of eyes. - -“How ever do you rise in that?” Dolores asked. “And once you do get up, -how make it go? And up and off, how do you land?” - -He was frankly gratified by her interest. - -“They call me,” he exulted, “‘Prince of the Power of the Air.’ From its -essence I create whatsoever I will.” - -“Then this, too, is only illusion?” - -“But illusion realer than the Rock of Ages. Effects made by electricity -are indestructible. You can switch them off, as you can transfer -existence from one state to another, but you cannot destroy them.” His -look intensified: “This element and the immortal soul are the only two -absolutely steadfast quantities.” - -“Except--” she hesitated--“except good in the heart.” - -“Except evil in the mind, you mean.” - -He snapped the correction at her, evidently displeased, but soon -returned to the subject of his “Hell Hawk.” In a round of the machine, -he showed her a propeller placed beneath the fuselage by which it -might be lifted straight or lowered on reverse; explained the encased -“pusher” at the stern and “puller” at the bow which furnished silent, -horizontal speed; described the shock absorbers with which the talons -were equipped and the practicability of reflecting scenes below in the -moving, mirror-like eyes. - -“Experience is the best demonstrator. May I hand you in?” - -Dolores sank into the double seat that swung like a hammock across the -roomy cock-pit. Satan placed himself beside her, seized the “stick” by -which his super-bird was directed and pressed the starting button. - -Like an elevator the aeromobile shot upward, with an utter lack of -vibration that gave the effect of hella-firma receding, while their -craft stood still. Soon, however, he released the lofting button to -press that which gave power to the drivers. Forward through space they -started at a speed which would not have seemed speed at all, except for -the mounting figures finder-pointed upon a dial set into the invisible -air-screen before them. They seemed to hover above, while Gehenna raced -past them below. - -“It is--is wonderful,” breathed the Apollyon guest, pauperized in -expression by the emotions that accompany a first flight. - -He nodded. “Consider this morning’s air-joying one of your rewards for -being, although a factory girl, _somewhat_ different from the rest.” - -She turned to him. “You must have some object in treating me so well. -What is it?” - -“Ha, you are like the rest, after all--curious!” His Highness -exclaimed. “Must every she-soul know the end of the story first? -Suppose my object is to acquaint you with myself through my works. ‘By -their works ye shall know them.’ So look and know. Apply what mind you -have to getting a panoramic conception of the extent of my kingdom. -Notice the estates surrounding the palace park. I have given them over -to vari-villains so fortunate as to have merited my approval.” - -When Dolores gripped the edge of the swinging seat and leaned to peer -over the side of the fuselage, he objected. - -“Why must you earthlings do everything the hardest way? Let the Hawk -see for you.” - -He indicated an artfully arranged series of mirrors which reflected -through the eyes of the bird a moving picture of scenes beneath. - -“It looks like--like a picture postal-card of some tropical city, only -not so bright and more squat,” she observed after a moment. “It is -neatly laid out.” - -“It _is_ neat,” Satan admitted. “Our perpetual heat-without-rain does -fade the colors, though. The only moisture we get down here is when the -angels weep over some new triumph of mine. Hell knows I try to make -them open the ducts more often. If ever I learn to weep myself, I’ll -likely irrigate a lot of suffering.” - -“And why do you wish to weep?” - -“People seem to enjoy it so. As for the squatness of the bungalows, -what can you expect in the most tropical of climates? Assume a little -imagination if you have it not. You should have seen the place before I -took hold of it. At first, after my sudden fall into utter desolation -from the Paradisian comforts of home, I couldn’t see any possibilities -in Gehenna. But I never was one to let bad enough alone.” - -“Oh, I didn’t say I thought it bad,” Dolores hastened to insert. - -“No, you didn’t, but you’d better! Of course, it’s not what it might -be, even now, but it was a perfect chaos when I began, a sort of -peaceful haze, with not so much as a suffering gnat for me to vent my -disposition on.” - -“It’s so different from anything that----” Dolores puzzled. - -“Did you expect to find Pluto wallowing in a lake of fire, _á la_ -Milton?” - -“Gehenna is a place of torture, isn’t it? I wasn’t taught what they -call religion in my childhood, but I typed the sermons of a minister -for a while and I know what----” - -She hesitated, regretting her persistence. Satan’s facial expression, -always mobile, had altered for the worse. - -“A minister, eh?” he asked fiercely. “I suppose he ranted the regular -hell-fire stuff? Let me tell you that keeping the realities of my place -from the preach-praters of Earth is the hardest thing I do. If they -conceived a fraction of my achievements in the torture line, even in -this vestibule to the real hell farther on, I’d never have a chance to -hang out the S. O. S. sign--never. Earthlings _would_ be good and The -Great Intention foiled.” - -“The Great Intention, sir? What can you mean?” - -He glared at her; snarled his reply: “Greater than you have gone to the -chair of perpetual voltage for the impertinence of asking that. None -knows my Great Intention save myself. It is ‘closed up and sealed until -the time of the end.’ But woe betide the red soul in Gehenna that does -not work toward its fulfillment!” - -So threatening was his manner that the girl-shade shrank away; as soon -as she dared, returned her attention to the topographical features of -the world infernal. - -Back whence they had come, over incalculable miles of couchant -dwellings, Apollyon Palace and its gardens glittered in the rays of -the artificial sun. On either side, taxing to the eye as the illusive -distances of a boundless desert, detail merged into mirage-like -suggestion of detail, until nothing more could be imagined--quite -nothing more except infinitude of space. - -As they sped through the high-tempered air, shafts of fire-flecked -smoke reached up as if to devour them. Directly below, for sections -which might have been miles or tens of miles each, huddled a series of -convex structures with the round chimneys of pottery kilns. Massed here -and there were what looked to be warehouses and factories. - -The tension of the royal mood relaxed in a free gesture. “Object to my -furnaces smoking? I have to burn some fire and brimstone to satisfy -the preconceived mortal idea of damnation. The old-timers would think -less of me if I didn’t. At that, I’m sparing of it. Am bagging the -gases for future needs. You look surprised. Do earthlings really -believe that the idea of poison gas was made in Germany? Why, my child, -I’ve looked forward for ages to the destructiveness of the fumes thrown -off by burning fiends incarnate--the real thing, you know, made in -Hell!” - -Irritation again nettled his voice at the look on the face bent low to -gaze through the rising heat-hazes. - -“You work as hard as a Cook’s tourist at sight-seeing. Don’t make the -mistake of supposing you can get more than an illustrative idea of -Greater Gehenna in a day, a week or a year. Just a cursory glance this -morning. To the East stretch our fire-proof picture storage warehouses, -where we stow millions a minute of the life-films of important -earthlings. Below is the Devil’s Own Play-House. Make a guess at its -capacity.” - -Dolores, however, made no guess. Her interest had centered in a small, -incredibly luminous lake that attracted even as it hurt the eye. - -“What is yonder pool and the great gleaming ball that floats above, -like the soap-bubble of a god?” - -“That is the one biggest bubble of _the_ god. Chief thing I wanted -you to see. You _have_ a germ of intelligence--only don’t bother to -cultivate it, for it’s not to be compared with your other attractions. -What I want of you is--But I digress.” - -He declared the “bubble” his latest and greatest invention, the last -blow, so to speak, in motion picture photography, by which events on -Earth might be pictured simultaneously with their occurrence. - -Just then the Ball of Life, not being in use, was uncovered that it -might absorb atmospheric vitality. The countless prisms of spirits -of mercury which composed the pool acted as one glass in reflecting -distant Earth-scenes caught by the whirling bubble, which ignored -distances as it did materialistic interference. The vast stadium when -filled, was enclosed with adjustable electric walls of dark green. -There, from under eye-shields, the doings of Earth might be watched as -they were done. - -“If ever you get homesick, fair house-guest, I’ll give you a look-in on -the conduct of the dear detained.” - -“Oh, if you only----” - -Dolores smothered her wish in the midst of its expression. - -“If I only wouldn’t!” Rather disagreeably the King laughed at her -obviousness. “Now for a dip below the sun. I abhor this pale, abiding -light. Makes me blind as a bat.” - -As they bolted downward, he volunteered to correct her assumption that -already she had arrived in Hell. Greater Gehenna was only the starting -station. - -“We haven’t reached the bottomless pit or the lake of fire yet, not by -a world-full. And perhaps----” His coherency slackened. “Just _perhaps_ -we never shall. That depends upon who is stronger when the test comes, -the cast-out near-angel or---- It is a strange thing if bad won’t -overcome good in the Universe--if ruthlessness and preparedness----” - -He checked himself, as though self-accused of disclosing too much to -such a neophyte. After a suspicious scowl around at her, he continued: - -“That hell-fire idea is only figurative. Why threaten the spirit with -physical duress? You have an expression on Earth, ‘so near and yet so -far,’ that has taught me the refinement of torture. I want to show you -close-ups of some specials of my invention.” - -Skimming low, he pointed her attention ahead to the Cage of In-Law -Relatives, “absolutely the most vicious spirits ever caught in the -toils of durance vile,” as he described them, “and the only extant -bipeds never tamed.” - -What had looked a low mountain proved to be a dome-shaped enclosure -of such size that the curve on its either side sloped gradually into -the perspective. Through the interstices of its barbed wall thousands -upon thousands of _manes_, more female than male, could be seen moving -within. From it blew a wind so malignant that Dolores’ eyes smarted -and her ears roared--a wind of whispers from countless tongues all -breathing forth hate at once. Not one of the “in-laws” spoke out. All -whispered. - -“Blood egotists!” Satan chuckled. “As all the world is more or less -eligible for the Cage, I have space only for a few of the most horrible -examples. Seems an awful fate to inflict them upon each other, but I -discovered early that they are a race unto themselves. There is nothing -to equal their viciousness, not even professional jealousy. After all, -it is the mean little emotions that people Hell.” - -The lettered designation of a barrack-like structure Satan read: - - BASTARD BABY WARD - -“There lie the infant-shades along endless aisles. Their cribs are -lined with electro-cacti-spines. Their coverlets are of satiny -_bisnaga_ petals sewed together with their own needles.” His Highness -fixed a side glance on the mother-soul’s face as he enthused: “Although -a virtuous bachelor, I know that their whimpers mean they want milk. -So I feed that ‘so near and yet so far’ rule unto ‘even the least of -these.’ I have their nursing bottles filled with scalding, opaque air.” - -“But how can a baby deserve an evil fate?” Dolores demanded. “I was -not taught the Scriptures, but does the Great-I-Am, as you call Him, -countenance such a law?” - -“My favorite author, Deuteronomy, answers that. ‘A bastard shall not -enter into the congregation of the Lord. Even to his tenth generation -shall he not enter in.’ The sins of fathers being visited upon their -children is an unjust law that particularly appeals to me.” - -At her sob he offered pseudo-consolation. “Be of good cheer. Your -bastard is not consigned to the Ward--that is to say, not yet.” - -Low over a subdivision more dusty than any passed they sailed. Here the -scraggliest effect of vegetation ceased. Lizards moved languidly, if at -all, and snakes lolled their forked tongues. - -Satan, apparently gratified by his proselyte’s nervousness, apologized: -“Sorry I cannot spare time this morning to take you through Serpent’s -Tooth Valley. I quite anticipate your pleasure in the antics of my -snakes--a sharp-tooth pursuing every thankless well-begot. It’s a -lively place. You really should get in sympathy with the serpent. He -was my first agent and cannot be excelled for loathsomeness. Can you -see that rattler--that cobra? From Arizona to the Indies they are -feared, hated--_and_ respected. By an arbitrary edict, which I cannot -at present veto, they’ve been forced to crawl upon their bellies since -early days. But one of my first acts of reward to the unrighteous after -I have come into my own shall be to set them up again. ‘When snakes -shall rise on their tails!’ A more inspiring line never was writ.” - -The tourist-by-command shuddered, but did not speak. He followed her -gaze toward a barren dune in the distance over which a vapor hovered -high as could be seen. - -“Nits pestering the Traitors to Mothers, among whom I threatened last -night to throw my chef. Although they are an assorted bad lot, we can -afford to pass them, as I had no mother and you next to none. Got the -scheme of the chuck-hole from the Book of Revelations: ‘Where they -shall be tormented day and night forever and ever.’ It is not that -anything in particular is so unendurable. It’s the way I keep it up. -In rotation I visit all the old-fashioned plagues upon them, murrain, -boils and blains, frogs--But imagine the rest. There is one special -side-show that will have a personal appeal to you to which I feel I -should take you before we return. Look out. I’m going to land.” - -Again the Hawk had acted like an elevator. Its spreading claws clutched -the sanded soil, their shock absorbers functioning without jar. The -spirit-girl, once again upon hella-firma, gazed dazedly about. - -From the rim of a monstrous, crater-like cup nearby spilled a steam -like a giant’s breath, strong, noxious, horrific. When Dolores shrank -back, well-nigh overcome, her Satanic guide fanned aside the fumes and -drew her upward toward the edge. - -“Merely the regrets of the sirens,” he insisted. “This is the one -all-woman department of Gehenna, the Wanton’s Well. Lean over. Look. -See them gasp. See them try to faint. They hope that they are dying, -but no chance of that. Not one ever thinks she deserves her fate or -acknowledges her own defiance of decency. Her own case, you see, is -always ‘different.’ Only when she is surrounded by others of her kind, -thousands of them worse than she, does she begin to comprehend that in -the judgments of men woman’s unpardonable sin may have no difference. -Think of that, O fair and famed Dolores Trent--that between you and -these, your sisters, there is no difference!” - -Although the girl-shade felt about to collapse, she was held by his -mental dominance. Leaning, she looked. - -Her tormentor continued: “It is hot down there--hot as the curse of -society. The wantons burn in a fever of lonely lust. They thirst for a -sip of the affection and poetry--even of the rashness which made the -passion-cup sweet. And all the endless hours until That Day they’ll not -get a drop to wet their lying lips and sin-blacked tongues.” - -A tug upon the hem of the royal robe cut short the inquisition. An -aged female _manes_, sear-looking and fate-limned as would have been a -relief map of this Erubian Realm, had tottered up behind them unheard. -Her silvered hair writhed backward in the blast from The Well. Her -hands shook toward it as shake withered grasses over a dry creek bed. - -“Sire, she cannot stand it much longer down there, my Millie,” the -crone-soul quavered. - -“Ha, Grandma Nuisance again!” Unconventionally Satan introduced her -to Dolores. “An oldish lady who has seen better days. Ever notice that -most oldish ladies _have_ seen better days?” - -“I am asking naught for myself, your gracious Majesty. I was old enough -to know better. But Millie wasn’t twenty yet and that high-strung and -sore-tempted.” - -Ungraciously His Majesty continued to explain her: “That dame, after -an impeccable life on her own account, plunged a knife through the -licentious breast of an offspring who, despite frequent asseverations -that she’d rather be dead, lacked courage to perform the function for -herself. They sentenced the old girl for life, the judge and jury -having that weakness for mothers which is bred in the womb of the -world. Down here, I haven’t seemed to find the right berth for her, -so have left her to her own devices, which take the form of torturing -herself in this existence as in the last over the sins of her Millie -the Magnificent.” - -With threatening manner he turned on the crone. - -“I told you not to follow me again.” - -“But I am driven. I failed to fetch her up right or she’d never have -gone wrong. It’s all my fault. Let her out of the well. Let me take her -place.” - -The grief coursing from her faded eyes seemed again to change the -variable royal mood. Seizing her wisp of hair, he compelled her to the -edge. - -“At least you may suffer with her,” he conceded. “Misery loves company, -they say.” He thrust forward her peaked face. When her eyes failed to -moisture at thought of the wrench he had given her neck, he essayed a -wrench at her heart. - -“See Her Magnificence on the ledge just below, parching, burning, dying -an age-long death of thirst. Hi, there, Millicent, have you thought out -some new way you might have married him? Here’s mother dear, come to -bring you a drink. How her brilliant beauty is fading under drouth! You -who suckled her as a babe, you cannot deny her just one drop? But alas, -your bosoms are withered as your face. Surely, though, you’re not out -of tears?” Over the rim he called: “The drink, the _drink_, Millicent! -Mother’s tears--extra salt.” - -Dolores understood that the struggles of the spirit-dame and the wail -that came from the depths were in resistance of his mental brutality. -Yet she, too, was moved to action by a thought. - -Stepping close to the edge, she contested Satan’s clutch of the old -shade; drew her back; bade her begone. - -“Lift your prayers upward, mother,” she breathed in a voice of the -night-winds. “I have heard that only God Himself can save.” - -Her shoulders were seized in a fiendish clutch. - -“Enough of that only-God drivel! You trying to checkmate _me_?” - -As she was twisted around to meet the Mind-Master’s glare, she shook -at the clash of his will against her own; knew herself conquered; -realized that, without being dragged, she was returning to the rim of -the Wantons’ Well. She was going over ... over.... - -“Might as well end it now as later on,” Satan snarled. “How are you -going to like it down there, Dolores Trent--down where your world has -sent you--down where there is no difference?” - -All was over then, thought the spirit-girl. And her baby---- - - * * * * * - -She had heard his laughter quite a while before she began to -understand. Opening her eyes, she saw that she still stood on -hella-firma. In time she must have been willed back from the brink. -Nearby sat His Majesty, shaken by unholy mirth. - -To Dolores this ebullition was more terrifying than his recent wrath. -After the emotional stress of the morning, she felt that she could not -endure it. Glancing in the direction taken by the crone-shade, she made -out the bent figure dissolving into the brume. She arose and faced her -tormentor. - -“I wish you wouldn’t laugh that way,” she said, calmly as she could. - -Satan wiped his eyes. - -“I do get so amused at the rages into which I work myself to frighten -folks,” he commented when able to articulate. “Really, you can’t -imagine how much fun I have with myself. Pardon me, but I--I just can’t -get over your----” - -“Won’t Your Highness oblige me by----” - -“My Lowness.” - -“Your Lowness. Please, Pluto.” - -“‘Please, Pluto!’” Although mocking her, he settled into seriousness. -“When you get tricky like that--call me friendly names for favors, you -know--it is then that I have hopes of you. Didn’t you know I was only -fooling? Do you suppose I’d drop you over the rim before hearing the -rest of those griefs to men?” - - * * * * * - -They returned to the Hell Hawk by way of The Lane of Futile Labors. -Although the King seemed minded to hurry, Dolores’ steps lagged, so -absorbing were the illusory sights on either hand. - -In a fenced plot a gardener was on his knees before a line of young -rose-plants. A stray weed he pulled with eager hand. The soil around -the roots, pulverized already from his diligence, he loosened yet -again. Anxiously he lifted his eyes toward the electric sun, the while -fanning with his trowel the drooping leaves. - -“Soon the rain will fall. It must sometime,” he mumbled to this plant -and to that, as though addressing conscient things. “If you’d bear me -just one rose among you, even a half-blown rose----” - -So the old dodderer was back to roses again! Thus Satan commented to -the girl-shade. Roses were the gardener’s specialty. He had begun with -them a thousand years before, trying between whiles to bring to bloom -every known flower, from shrubs to lowly blue-bells. Interesting to -keep count upon how often he would revert to the hopeless hope of that -one rose! - -Over his bench an inventor twenty years dead was about to try out -a miniature airship over which he had spent the entire span of his -endless workdays. As the moment of the test approached his hands -twitched too spasmodically to turn the propeller. Glancing up into -the censorious smile of the royal bystander, his face contorted by an -expectancy painful to see, he gained control. Next moment the invention -which he had quitted earth too soon to see perfected lay on the ground. -At his touch the model had quitted the bench, hovered briefly in -mid-air, then dropped. - -An artist mixed paints on her palette. Over an impressionistic study of -the lurid sky-scape she worked, inspired by sheer necessity. But the -colors faded to a monotone, no matter how thickly she laid them on. - -Long before the end of the Lane, Dolores had begun to understand. -That one rose never would bloom. The model plane could not fly. No -paint squeezed from Avernian tubes might express the genius of the -artist-shade for even one short hour. It was too late for the most -ambitious spirit to achieve. - -Shadows from her somber thoughts were in the glance uplifted to her -guide. - -“You have the askingest eyes,” observed he. “Very well. I’ll give you -a lift through the Lane of Labors. Of course it is all illusion. The -gardener imagines the weeds, the inventor the crash of his plane, the -artist her chromatic pigments. And what we see in them is what they -believe of themselves. Just as well might they imagine success, except -for--For what now, do you suppose?” - -“For fear?” - -Satan nodded. “Thought you’d get the idea if I gave you time. A singer -fears that her voice will fail. It fails. A woman with child fears for -its inheritance. She bears a defective. A sea captain fears that he -cannot manage his crew. From his weakness springs their mutiny. Except -for fear in the heart you earthlings could become a race of gods.” - -“Gehenna, then, is thwarted hope?” - -“Gehenna is preconceived failure, built up on my revised theory, -where-there’s-hope-there’s-life! Diverts me how they try and try, -foredoomed by self-doubt. They don’t and won’t know before That Day -that they must fail. Absolutely to know would be----” - -“Hell?” Dolores’ lips shuddered the word. - -“Hell will be despair. There none will try.” - -“And--and Heaven?” - -With the query the girl-soul’s eyes were lighted by a vague gleam--a -suggestion that night is not so much the end of a day past as the -beginning of one to come. - -“Heaven?” His Majesty scowled down at her. “Heaven, it is supposed, -will be progress--assured realization. Tell me, did you ever find -anything in realization?” - -“No, not yet. But without faith----” - -“A synonym for Heaven, that ‘not yet’!”--he said intolerantly. “As for -faith--bah! Faith is the fear of fools.” - - * * * * * - -Hurrying her toward the waiting Hawk, he broached: “I am going to fly -you back to Apollyon Palace over a section which I think will enlarge -your conception of my place. Everything is at a standstill down here, -_except_----” - -The eager look which completed his sentence filled Dolores with -uneasiness greater than that aroused by the futile labors of the Lane. -Evidently he, master of these denizens of doom, believed in some -personal achievement. Did he also hope in vain? Last night she had -crucified her modesty of soul in the hope of saving herself and her -baby from punishment. Would her effort fail? And John Cabot--oh, surely -the faith with which she clung to that hope of one day seeing John -again was not the fear of a fool! - -The apprehension seen in all faces that morning now looked from out -her own. She felt much as when told the nature of her employment in -Vincent Seff’s shop that long-ago day on Earth, after she had spent -the sum advanced her. What price was to be exacted of her in this new -position? What meant that studying regard of her--what the varied -encouragements which depressed her with sensations more heavy, if less -intelligible, than any of those proved prescience in her former state? - -Until _when_? - -If _what_? - -_Except----?_ - - * * * * * - -“Except me.” - -Not until they were cleaving the air directly beneath the high-swung -sun did the King complete his suspended sentence. Like mere specks -behind and below them were the cages and huts, the caves and wells and -morasses of the lower bad-lands. On either side discernible objects -blended into the sand sites reserved for expansion. Ahead, farther than -the mind could think, stretched yet more distances. Truly a Cyclopean -panorama, this topographical review of the hope-hell of the lost! - -Dolores could not regard merely the spectacle. Even as she gazed -forward and back, her heart ached over such few individuals as she had -seen and over the many she had not seen. Some, mayhap, deserved their -fate, although most, she felt sure, were as was she, victims of the -shallow judgments of men. Would they, _could_ they endure until the -Supreme Judge entered court? Could she? - -At the burn of dry tears within her eyelids, she remembered Satan’s -exultation over the weeping angels. Even should she weep, her tears, -like the crone-soul’s, would be salt--would tantalize, rather than -refresh. She choked back her emotion. - -“A pretended interest in one’s escort is more gracious than none at -all.” - -As from a distance, she heard Satan’s reproach. Recalling her thoughts, -she concentrated on what he was saying. - -“How they hate me, yet how much more they fear me, my fiends! Certainly -I have the advantage over rulers of Earth in needing no secret service -protectorate. Unfortunately for my subjects, I am immortal. They know -that they cannot kill the Master Mind, that mine is the only spirit in -Gehenna to which achievement is possible. That fact I prove to them -hourly through their sufferings. They call me The Destroyer, yet am I -their one great hope of salvation.” - -The boast puzzled Dolores. “The Destroyer a saviour?” - -He showed surprise at her surprise. - -“You don’t like me, my dear shade, or you’d show a more credulous -interest in my small confidences about myself.” - -“I _am_ interested, really.” - -“Although you don’t like me? Never mind. I could make you do so--could -make you love me if I chose. But I don’t wish to _make_ you. Hell knows -I’ve got my pride!” - -He gave up to an attack of his lonely chortles. Evidently he had -“amused” himself again. Next moment he seized the point of his Vandyke -and straightened his countenance to excessive length. - -“Get behind me, ignoble impulse of pique! Mine other cheek, turn thou -for a blow!” Lowering his face to hers, he added, most unexpectedly: “I -don’t mind admitting that you make it hard for me to be mean. Except -that I have a reputation for meanness which I must deserve--Anyhow, -it’s your turn to tell me something nice.” - -“But--why--” stammered Dolores. “I don’t understand----” - -“Oh, yes you do. Something nice that you think about me.” - -Despite what she knew of him, the girl-shade was caught by something of -his own amusement at himself. - -“I think,” she offered, “that at times you seem a very good deal of a -human being.” - -Clamping the plane’s “joy stick” between his knees, His Majesty threw -up both hands toward the glory of his imitation sky. - -“As bad as that?” he exclaimed. - -She could see, through his affected horror, that he was complimented. - -“For the smallest of favors, even though forced, I thank you,” he said -with an appearance of sincerity. “That, my child, is what I’d like best -to seem to be--just a long-lasting man.” - -“_My child!_” The unctuousness of his two words of address, emphasized -by his smug contemplation of her face, made Dolores turn away with a -new uneasy wonder. Some one on Earth had called her “my child” with -that same accent and gaze. _Who?_ - -Her distraction irritated him. - -“Don’t sit there looking like a magazine cover. Your profile is -odiously seraphic. If I’d seen it first, I’d not have given you a -second thought.... That’s better.... When I compare that asking look in -your eyes with the dear little wrinkles around your mouth--those _dear_ -little wrinkles----” - -So long and so strangely did he continue to contemplate her that -Dolores risked his displeasure by covering her face with her hands. -Again he surprised her. - -“Your methods are unlike those of any in the whole Well of Wantons. At -times it is hard to believe the worst of you. Looking straight into -your eyes, one sees----” - -His pause she interrupted with an almost beseeching reminder. - -“Does one--what?” - -“Well, what has been your experience? Doesn’t one?” - -His laugh was an insult. - -Denied the eyes in whose royal purple shadows lurked “that look” which, -underscored by the lines about her smileless mouth, had got on his -imagination, he soon tired of the joke at her expense. - -“You are a helliot for looks, no doubt of that,” he remarked crisply. -“What I want to know is--can you _fight_?” - -“Fight, Your--Your Lowness? Why should I fight?” - -He did not answer either himself or her. His manner changed. He -appeared chiefly impatient. - -“You’d think I could manufacture time, the way I’m wasting it. With -the crimes of the mortal world awaiting my direction, I itinerate you -through this tour. Not that I think the education will be wasted on -you. My original conviction that it won’t be is strengthened. But I -must get back.” - -“I am ready to return at once, sir.” - -“You look more than ready. This is a case, however, where the longest -way round may prove the shortest home.” - -He put The Hawk to its highest speed. It seemed that they might beat -the winds in any race, beat thought, beat even light. With the edges of -cleft air, Satan’s instructions cut into Dolores’ consciousness. - -“The scenes we’re about to skirt will demonstrate why I’ve striven -through the ages for numbers. Look you toward the east.” - -Urged by a certain hard-suppressed excitement in his voice, Dolores -strained her sight in the direction of his gesture. Approaching them -from the doubtful distances, came a vast company of uniformed shades. -On either side stretched countless tents. - -“Can it be that you keep up--” she hesitated over the improbable -thought--“an army?” - -“The Hordes of Hades.” The splendid head threw back until its red beard -stabbed the forward air. The steel-cold voice slashed like a sword. -“Focus what imagination you have on their probable numbers--unheard-of -billions strong. Try to conceive the ruthlessness possible to demons -freed from the fear of death. Consider the impossibility of the most -arrant coward’s desertion with my brand stamped on his brow.” - -In her effort to obey, expression failed the spirit-girl. - -Glancing around at her, Satan frowned. “Nothing to say, as usual? -You’ve not yet suspected, then, that the basic principle of Gehenna -is militaristic? Where would any autocrat be without defense for his -autocracy?” - -“This army, of what race is it come?” - -At the simplicity of her question, His Highness laughed. “Do you think -for a moment that a one-race army would be enough for me? I may have -been wrong since birth, but I’m right in the safety of numbers. The -hosts below are conscripted from the best bad men since Cain--Europeans -and Americans from Japheth; Arabs, Jews, _et al._, from Shem; Egyptians -and Africans from Ham. Not chosen by God, but by me, and on the -principle that in the heart of every man, be he white or black, red or -yellow, is the incipient germ of fratricide. Might is right--a slogan -of my coinage. Hell over all, say I!” - -With face working and eyes blinded by their own flare, he applied -shaking fingers to the speed buttons of the aeromobile. - -“Truth is _stronger_ than fiction,” he declared. “Down there you see a -suggestion of the truth about me. But I need more man-made demons to -demonstrate that truth. I must have more, more, and yet more.” - -His intensity affected Dolores like the winds which had chilled her to -the soul on her recent trudge through the Valley of Death. - -“I depend upon the beast that is in every man, as shown by the way the -most fanatic pacifist will fight when forced over the top. But how to -gain recruits in bulk, now that the World War has failed!” - -As they soared directly over the first encampment, he leaned to the -mirror that reflected The Hawk’s revolving eyes and began to count in -numerals strange to his guest the units in that section. Her brain, so -recently finite, grew dizzy in the attempt to follow him. - -Evidently he felt gratified by his computations. “Already a creditable -army. Nobody but the Great-I-Am knows the trouble I’ve had recruiting -them and He only because He has been kept so busy trying to block me. -From the first, I’ve counted on wearing Him out--getting Him so tired -that He’ll be willing to let Nature take its course. Looked recently -as though I’d succeeded, but I am beginning to fear--what with peace -blanketing all the bad old predatory instincts and temperance creeping -like a tidal wave over the mortal world--My time is getting short. I -must think--must concentrate.” - -As he relapsed into what seemed urgent introspection, a ruddy mist -began to emanate, first from his head, then his body. Open as was the -air-scape and swift their flight, a noxious odor spread. - -For a space they alternated tail-spins and nose-dives with loops in -the lurid altitudes. Dolores, from her earth-habit of fear, cried out -against such recklessness. - -His Majesty’s dazed look suggested that her protest had recalled him -from some evil spell. The emanations from his body thinned and ceased. - -“Too much joy in our ride, my child? You’d forgive my abstraction if -you realized how I am ulcering from the trick the teetotalers put over -on me--and only because I felt too strong to fear their weakness.” - -A scorching glance he threw across at her, as though she had spoken -objection. “You’ve got to take what you get when you’re dead, you know. -_I_ am what most of you get. All I need to force the rookies of yonder -army to my will is their own consciences. The morale is the only thing. -They know what they deserve and I am their only chance of escaping it. -It means something to those Relicts of Right for me to remark, ‘To hell -with you!’” - -The girl-shade’s eyes stung, not so much from the rush of torrid air as -the effort to face his blighting gaze. Her conceptions were overtaxed, -her mind fagged, her heart hurting with anxiety for the earthlings over -whom she still yearned. Realizing that some response was expected of -her---- - -“But why do you train so many millions of the lost?” - -“Lost? Under my training they find themselves, just as you soon shall -be finding yourself and your powers for evil.” He eyed her yet more -tryingly. “Why do you suppose, now?” - -“Is it--” Dolores shuddered--“to send their spirits in force to the -living world, to conquer all that are left? At the Mystery Gate I was -told that none might return who had crossed into Shadow Land.” - -“You were told aright. The conflict for which my troops are training -will be in the Inter-World--an irresistible onslaught of fiendishness. -Do you suppose that I’ve been straining my inventiveness all these -centuries to arouse the beast in every man simply for amusement? I have -not yet begun to show my power. But it won’t be long now to wait.” - -“And then?” Shaken by dread greater than her comprehension, she shrank -away from him. “Do you speak of your Great Intention?” - -His look leaped after her, a devouring fire. - -“I speak of a night far spent--of a day that is at hand. I speak of -earth and water and air that shall cleave together as component parts -of chaos, of heavens that shall stretch out ‘like a curtain,’ of hordes -that shall put on the ‘armor of light.’ No time to call on the gods -of men in my surprise. No pause for a thought of reprieve. If love -generates electricity, what of hate? Hate shall be the ammunition of -the great drive. A fanfare of poisoned thoughts shall open the fire. -Once the lapsing fear for mortality is burned to dross, my demands -shall be granted. You dare to probe the mystery of my Intention? Keep -those asking eyes of yours on me, Dolores Trent. _I_ am the mystery of -Mystery Land!” - -Loud he hurled this declaration into the heated air. As though spoken -into some megaphone of surpassing conductive power, it reverberated -away and away, down and down. At its message, lightning licked the air, -to be gulped in turn by thunder. From below echoed tumult so great that -the atmospheric response rumbled as from volcanic eruptions. Shrieks -arose from the Hadean hordes. - -His Majesty, slowing and steadying their craft as a bird holds poise, -pulled the girl-soul to her feet and with her leaned to watch, -first-sight, the troops rushing into formation. Soon sight of the units -was cut off by slashing swords of light. A fetid gas arose from the -on-rush. - -In an ague of undefined terror, Dolores felt herself further shaken by -the clutch on her arm; heard the Prince of the Power of the Air again -give himself over to mirth. - -“Fool fiends, they hear my voice and think it is That Day! Not bad for -an impromptu practice drive, eh? Once all fear is drilled out of them, -once their numbers are complete, once the full force of that gas is -turned on--Ah, nothing and none may stand against the hate of Hell!” - -Skimming the upper air toward the palace, he centered his attention on -the cowering convert to his power. - -“Whether you rise to the rôle in this new comedy divine for which I -am considering you, depends upon yourself,” he told her. “Your first -séance was one of fair success. But nerve yourself for to-night lest -you fail to entertain. After what you have seen to-day, you’d not wish -to fail?” - -The weight of her responsibility crushed out her reply. - -“I should not dare to fail.” - -He nodded, his hope evidently strengthened, as hers had been weakened, -by the morning’s flight. - -“That Day you ask about--I do not understand myself why it has been -postponed so long. Do you suppose----” - -As if startled by his own thought, Satan caught her hand with a -touch that pained like a burn, yet left no mark. His voice sagged -superstitiously as he finished: - -“Do you suppose it could have been ordained that I should wait--for -_you_?” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -“When hall bedrooms are alcoves in disguise”--so said the Royal -Entertainer--“their inner walls are likely to be thin.” - -This was true of the haven paid for in advance by Dolores Trent--true -as thin. Often during that first night after the dénouement at -Seff’s she had need to remind herself of the fact and of the sleep -needs of the actor lady in the adjoining star-guest chamber. It was -hard, though, not to cry, when she kept thinking of her father lying -underneath his sod blanket out in the rain. Indeed, she did not sleep -until after the rain had stopped. - -Comfort came with oblivion. In her dreams somebody strong, young and -ardent entered her door as though he had the right--the love-lad who, -in a vision more real than the shameful reality of the store-stage -scene, had crossed to her side from the stranger who had rescued her. -Through the narrow space between the wall and her cot he slipped; sat -looking at her from the single, stiff chair; at last leaned down and, -ever so tenderly, kissed her on the lips. - -A peremptory knock awakened her. In the coarse night-gown, which had -felt like the embrace of a mother after those cobwebby things at -Seff’s, she opened the door a crack upon the young blond hair and old -brunette face of her landlady. - -“Your week being up to-day, there’ll be no refund. Your trunk not yet -having come, it won’t take you long to pack and go.” - -“Go? Go where?” Dolores asked. - -The reply, although characteristically and participially indirect, -was clear. “Being raised decent myself and with God’s help running a -decent house, it’s not for me to say more than that out you’re going, -bag and baggage.” - -Had some one from the lingerie shop acquainted the lady of the house -with the news of the fiasco of yesterday--perhaps Vincent Seff himself? -Did he mean to discredit her further--to hound her with advances or -reproach? - -The possibility determined her against any attempt at explanation or -appeal. Beyond this decision she had not time to think until she found -herself seated in a one-arm chair of a self-service restaurant. Beside -her stood the alligator bag. In her palm lay the residue of her recent -wealth, two quarters; a substantial surplus, however, as compared with -the solitary nickel expended for the nectarine that had decided her -engagement only one week before. - -Coffee and crullers--a delicious breakfast when sweetened with the -thought that she was released from her hideous bondage, the thought -that she was free! With the weak brew came strong thoughts. - -Why had she discounted her heritage of education? Why consider work -in factories or shops when she spoke three languages and read in -five? Surely Trevor Trent, acknowledged a brilliant translator by -his severest critics, had not shunted his latter-day work upon her -shoulders for naught! She would look higher for employment; would climb -to a place where morals were disciplined by minds. - -She was sipping from the thick cup the last thin drop. A chunky man, in -rising from the next chair, dropped his newspaper on the floor. Of such -figure that he might not recover it without inconvenience, he stepped -upon and over it. Dolores picked it up and called to him. But either he -was through with it, or did not wish to concede his lack of equipoise. -Despite the waddle with which he went out the door, Dolores regarded -him as a god--the paper his gift. She began to turn its pages in search -of the “Help Wanted” columns. - -As chanced, she did not read the close-print pleas. A picture on the -last page distracted her--a bold, drawn-from-life sketch of herself -which was its own indictment of the flimsy garb in which she was -portrayed. - -Dolores’ pleasure in the crullers receded into the distant past. Gone -were the strong thoughts sipped from the weak brew. Of what use to look -higher when placarded as so low? Any one might recognize her now. With -her paper napkin she brushed away the mist that had gathered before her -eyes and bent to the type which surrounded the cut. - -Dolores Trent, subject of the sketch, was recommended to the reader’s -interest as the principal in a lingerie shop scandal reported in -detail in another column. That the incident was to be made the cause -of a reform in the use of human merchandise was promised in a spirited -interview with John Cabot, noted financier, who had preferred a charge -of assault against Vincent Seff, the offending shopkeeper. - -In the column referred to, the girl found a detailed report of the -impromptu scene which had followed the playlet of “The Little Old Lady -of Lorraine,” a paragraph of speculation upon her own disappearance and -another which declared that the beautiful Mrs. John Cabot was confined -to her home in a state of nervous collapse because of the notoriety -brought on the family by her husband’s behavior. - -Dolores crumpled the newspaper and threw it into the self-service trash -basket. She had better cause to relinquish it than the over-fat god! - -Out upon the street, she foresaw other relinquishments. Small use -was there for her to seek employment until to-day’s news had passed -into the discard of several yesterdays. Doubtless this story, rather -than direct word from the Seff shop, had brought about the morning’s -summary eviction. Well might she expect to remain roomless until a -lapse of time had lessened chances of comparison between her face -and the sketch. More harm than help had been worked by the volunteer -protectorate of Mr. John Cabot, who unfortunately was of social -importance or he would not have been given such space in the news. -And that imagined kiss which had soothed her slumbers in the pristine -dawn--why its false assurance of security? - -Was it fancy or fact that people were staring at her? Probably she did -look strange. Well-dressed young girls did not saunter, traveling bags -in hand. Not noting in what direction, she hastened her steps. She must -appear to be bound somewhere, as if to meet someone. - -In truth, she was. She felt her arm seized in a strong grip; heard a -voice in brogue reproving her. - -“Battlin’ bantham, woman, where’d you get it so early in the -mornin’--or was it, now, so late last night?” - -In cross-cutting a juncture of car-tracks already congested, Dolores -had tripped and been forcefully thrown into the arms of a policeman. -As he escorted her toward the curb, she assured him that his first -conclusion about her was wrong. She had been trying to think and hurry -at the same time, that was all. - -He was a fine specimen of the city’s choice, young, well set-up, -weather-bronzed. He begged her pardon for his mistake. When he turned -to leave her Dolores had a sudden sense of loss. - -“If you please----” - -She caught his arm and gazed up at him, her lips uncertain over what -next to say. - -He showed surprise at her touch and look, but leaned to her. And as he -leaned, red color waved across his tan. - -“Faith,” he said, “I’d hate to meet you goin’ home at night!” - -At once Dolores regretted her impulse. Unless she wished to be further -mistaken, however, she must continue. - -“If you were a girl and needed work,” she asked, “how should you go -about getting it?” - -More slowly than it had come, the color receded from the young -policeman’s face. With a deliberate movement, he lifted her hand off -his arm. - -“Miss, my baby’s not a year yet and her eyes are blue, but they’ve got -something the look of your own.” He added the advice she had asked. -“If I was a girl and a girl like you, sure I’d lock myself in my -satchel until I got off Broadway. The satchel I’d check in some regular -employment agency and there I’d stay until I got me job. There’s one -in the next block, kept by an Irisher friend of mine who ain’t half -as bad, believe me, as her near-French accent. Ask for Madame Marie -Sheehan, née Mrs. Mary Shinn, and tell her Donovan O’Shay recommended -you to her. Here, I’ll write it down.” - -Upon a police pad whipped from beneath his uniform, he scribbled -hurriedly; tore off the sheet; pressed it into her hand. With a kindly, -“best o’ luck to you, miss,” he dived back into the traffic tide. - -Dolores watched him disappear in the rush of it with admiration for -more than his physique. She appreciated him more than she might have -done two weeks ago. A thrill of pride tingled through her that the -city, her wonderful New York, could choose so well. - -Too bad, when she felt such confidence in him, that his name and the -penciled slip were not the practical present aid he thought! To apply -at a “regular” employment agency she would need a better reference than -the too graphic one pressed upon her by the morning paper. The slip she -placed carefully in her purse. “Née Mary Shinn” she would regard as -to-morrow’s possibility, rather than the risk of to-day. - -But she could and did follow other of his advices. She turned off the -broad white way, proved to be so narrow and so dark; walked briskly -eastward. - -Perhaps it was the warning of the young Celt, whose girl-baby’s eyes -had “something the look” of her own, that awoke in Dolores the desire -to get back among the sort of people with whom she had lived. Soon she -left the cross street and turned north along one of the small-numbered -avenues. - -Somehow she had ceased to feel the strangeness of her position; -scarcely seemed thinking at all, except for a vague worry over why she -was not worrying. A quite unreasonable sense that she would happen upon -some recognizable sign-post to her immediate future possessed her. She -became cheerful, as though some one she trusted had made her a promise -of help. - -Over the door of a substantial building of corner-lot dignity, she -stopped to read this placard: - - RESCUE HOME - CHURCH OF ALL MANKIND - -Of neither church nor home had she ever heard, but surely she needed -rescue as urgently as could any of mankind. She climbed the stone -steps; rang the bell. - -The door was opened by a negro boy. At her hesitant question he ushered -her into a business-like office. A plain-faced girl, who looked to be -about Dolores’ own age, sat behind a typewriter, busy with a stick of -chewing gum and a newspaper. Through an inner door appeared a woman who -introduced herself as the matron of the home. - -Dolores ended her story with the death of her father and her -consequent need of a place to stay until she could find employment. -She did not notice that the stenographer had left them until that -industriously-chewing young person beckoned to the matron from the -private office. - -“Just wait a few minutes,” said the older woman as she rose. “I have an -idea we can help you.” - -Only the buzz of their low-voiced conversation carried through the -half-closed door. When the matron returned she carried in her hand a -copy of the same newspaper over which the too-fat god of the restaurant -had not dared risk his dignity. She peered over her glasses at the -applicant, then through them at the last-page illustration. - -“You _are_ quick at faces, Gracie,” she said to her aide. To Dolores: -“I am sorry, Miss--ah--Trent, but I doubt your sincerity in asking -our sort of help. Already you have violated our first rule--absolute -frankness. This journal explains better than you have done why you -need cover in a respectable place. I’m afraid you would not feel at -home here.” - -“Not in them clothes,” contributed Gracie. - -“My _dear_!” Then again to Dolores: “We do not wish to seem -unresponsive to the needs of any unfortunate, but there is a great deal -behind my decision. Good morning, Miss Trent.” - -“Good morning.” - -Dolores accepted the matron’s decision quietly, as she had the previous -rebuffs of her life, and started toward the door. - -“Are you leaving, my child?” - -The voice was strong yet mellifluous. Dolores saw surveying them from -the dark background of the hall a man in clerical clothes. He looked to -be middle-aged; was of medium height, medium weight, medium coloring. -From him, however, flowed an extraordinary personality. No smile showed -beneath his brown mustache or in his agate-colored eyes, yet he beamed -with beneficence. - -“Yes, Dr. Willard,” the matron answered. “The young lady deliberately -deceived me as to her identity. Possibly you have not run through the -morning papers. This picture will tell you more quickly than I can -explain why I----” - -Dolores’ impulse was to continue into the hall, but she as well as the -matron stopped at the clergyman’s gesture. - -“I haven’t seen this one, no,” he admitted, studying the sketch -interestedly, then the girl herself. “There are photographs of her, -however, in three of the other papers. She is sketchable--very -sketchable.” - -“Knowing how the home has been imposed upon in the past, you will, I am -sure, approve my decision,” the matron continued in her calm, competent -way. “With so many in it whom we hope to influence to high standards, -fair-play forbids that we allow it to be made a free hotel for the -convenience of a class who make sport of its object. One bad example -spoils a dozen good. I feel very strongly on this subject, doctor.” - -“Yes, I know. You always feel strongly.” - -No sarcasm showed in his voice or look. His rebuke was the more telling -because so quietly put. - -“I shall not interfere with your decision in this case so far as -concerns the Home. But as pastor of the Church of All Mankind, I do not -feel that I should permit generalities to affect my personal interest -in cases. Surely ‘all mankind’ includes girlhood, the future of the -Nation. Come with me, young lady. I’ll see what we can do for you.” - -All within five minutes, Dolores found herself ushered into the private -office of the autocrat of the institution whose doors had been closing -upon her. - - * * * * * - -That there was a crack in her cup of content had come to be a belief of -Dolores Trent. From her earliest remembrance there always had seemed to -be more or less of seepage. Nevertheless, as protégé of Dr. Alexander -Willard--his pet charity, he called her--she felt that the waste should -cease. - -The Church of All Mankind was a granite pile which did proud the -outward religious show of its parishioners. From a height it returned -serenely the troubled gaze of the Hudson. Its lawns suggested that each -blade of grass was especially endowed. Behind the auditorium, with its -wide-welcome doors, arched memorial windows and statued niches for the -more generous benefactors, had been erected a two-story, utilitarian -annex. Of the same stone and general architectural lines as the church -proper, this contained, in addition to lecture, board and office rooms, -the pastor’s study. - -Here Dolores had been installed on the day of her “rescue” from the -East Side home which ranked first among the charities of All Mankind. -Here she soon had learned to manipulate a typewriter with sufficient -speed to take letters from dictation and prepare large-type pulpit -copies of the sensational sermons for which Dr. Willard was widely -known. Here, in brief, she had mastered the preliminaries of a -secretaryship. - -Despite frequent praise of her aptitude, her grasp of English and a -natural facility in the creation of oratorical effects, she somehow -could not cease to regard her employment as providential and the -reverend doctor as her personal Providence. “The lower they sink, the -higher we lift them”--that had been his comment on refusing to hear her -attempted explanation of the shop scandal. Neither would he recognize -any connection between his initiative in her behalf and the fact that -the John Cabots were hereditary members of his congregation. - -The rescue matron’s bigotry he had deplored as “a pinch” in a nature -usually broad. To err was human, he reported himself as having told -her, but she must not be human in the same way again. To his wider -vision, the Home had been established for just such as Dolores Trent. -He had the girl to thank, not she him, for the chance to prove his -philanthropy. - -Provided with the very sort of work for which she was best fitted -and housed comfortably in the apartment of one of those humbler -parishioners always attached to rich churches, she realized one -mid-morning, less than a month after the Seff debacle, that she still -was in a state of discontent. Alone in the study, she paused in her -copying to take herself to task. - -Why be so unappreciative as not to be happy? Her immediate predecessor, -for whom she had felt inclined to be sorry, had lost the position -because, as Dr. Willard explained, she wasn’t appreciative. - -The only manifest reason for her state of mind lay in the stuffed -animals and birds, slain by the distinguished clergyman on his hunting -trips, with which the room was given individuality. Over the fireplace -was hung a magnificently antlered moose head. A glass-eyed doe, a pair -of stuffed foxes and lesser game stood about in natural attitudes. -From the ceiling various birds strove on wires, as though in flight. -Particularly lifelike was a fine specimen of lynx, posed ready to -spring just within the door. - -Although the new secretary had heard many compliments paid this trophy -collection and had read her employer referred to as “Dr. Nimrod” and -“The Hunting Parson,” she could not admire in him this passion for the -chase. The very naturalness of the poor, pretty creatures made her -deplore their cut-short lives. - -Often she found herself imagining the one-time fleetness of the doe or -the swish of the wind-spread wings of the golden eagle, wired in an -attitude of flying, pitiable because never--never would he fly again. A -teasing explanation of the lynx’s crouch made by the doctor to a woman -parishioner sounded tame beside the ferocity which the taxidermist had -stuffed into the specimen. - -“I keep the big cat by the door to startle my visiting ladies. He gives -them a sensation, hurries their blood, makes them natural.” - -Slavery to such a mission did seem hard on the lynx after the free -life he must have led to achieve his immense size. Dolores, yielding -to her fanciful mood, crossed the room and offered him a bite from her -paper-bag lunch. Crouched beside him, her arm around his neck--So the -minister found her when he brisked in for a belated inspection of the -morning mail. - -He gave her an indulgent smile as she sprang to her feet, but -contributed no remark to her embarrassment. - -She had finished taking the daily grist of replies. Dr. Willard was -sitting in his chair, his feet on the hassock that stood always -before it, looking at her in a way he had to which she could not grow -accustomed. Probably he was not thinking of her at all--was mentally -selecting the task of next importance. Yet she had grown more than -usually restive under his agate-eyed, considering gaze when the -beautifully covered top-tones of a soprano voice floated to them from -the floor above. - - “_Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom._ - _Lead thou me on...._” - -“Ah!” Dr. Willard repeated his smile. “The members of the music -committee are having their innings.” - -“Their innings, doctor?” - -“They are holding try-outs for a new soprano. I expect they’ll have -difficulty finding one to suit. You like that floating quality? It -is sort of seraphic. But, dear me, there are so many requirements -other than the voice to fill this position, which is probably _the_ -highest-paid for a church soloist in Greater New York. The committee -has heard this young woman several times and all agree with me except -Deacon Brill. He’s the only thorn in my flesh on the board.” - -“He does seem to feel a natural antipathy toward you,” Dolores -sympathized. - -“Very natural.” Again that peculiarly indulgent smile. “As he is the -central pillar of the church, I try not to collide with him. You see, -he has taken this singer--a good-looking girl in addition to her vocal -charms--out to dinner. He says she won’t do.” - -“Won’t do--and because he took her out to dinner?” - -Before Dr. Willard could explain, his private telephone rang. - -“You at last, my child!” he answered close to the mouthpiece. “So, he’s -broken out again? I am disappointed.... These attacks must be curbed -in some way.... Always here when you need my advice.... Hum-m.... The -sooner the better.” - -On hanging up the receiver, he turned with his invariable kindness to -Dolores. “It is time you take another of those walks along the Drive -that bring the roses into your cheeks. I have an important conference. -Stay out in the air an hour or more.” - -The girl put on her hat and coat. Although she suspected that these -absences were not suggested entirely on her account, she was grateful -for the half of a thought which made them serve two purposes. As one -way of showing her appreciation, she tried always to time her strolls -to his convenience rather than her own--to return not too late for -the performance of her duties, nor soon enough to interrupt the -“conferences” continually held with handsomely gowned women of the -congregation. Never did she reënter the study until the limousine or -touring car which had brought the visitor of the hour had purred away -from the side door. - -To-day she found the parkway paths delightful. A tinge of winter in -the air showed in the white breath of the river craft scudding along -against the tide. They always seemed a moral to Dolores, those boats -scudding along against the tide. - -A thought of the work piled on her desk cut her walk to a scant hour. -To her disappointment a gray town-car stood at the annex curb. Inside -she strolled up the corridors, wondering where she should wait. Around -a turn she came upon Mr. Brill, the over-fleshed, over-moneyed and -over-old “thorn” in Dr. Willard’s flesh. Evidently the deacon was -taking a respite from the choir trial to enjoy a cigar. As he had been -most affable on the several occasions when she had met him in the -pastor’s study, Dolores greeted him pleasantly. - -“Caught me, didn’t you, Miss Trent?” he returned, a bad-boy grin -slinking up his baggy cheeks. “You won’t tell on a poor addict who -prefers Lady Nicotine to _some_ lady sopranos?” - -“Would that be anything to tell, Mr. Brill? Dr. Willard fairly clouds -the study. I don’t see any harm in smoking.” - -“I suppose you don’t see harm in anything Dr. Willard does?” Although -the “central pillar” shook with mirth, his eyes strained at her through -the double-lens glasses fastened with a black ribbon to his lapel. -“Wouldn’t you, now, join me in a puff or two or three?” - -“No, sir. No, thank you,” said Dolores. - -“Don’t be silly. You just said you see no harm in it. Everybody smokes -nowadays, the women as much as the men.” - -“I know, Dr. Brill, but----” - -“But if you have scruples, I’ll be only too glad to swear that _I_ -won’t tell. Come, we’ll have a little social puff and chat.” - -Dolores tried to be good-natured, even when he gripped her arm and -propelled her into one of the small committee rooms. When, however, he -took from a gold case a slender, perfumed cigarette, lighted it and -essayed to place it between her lips, resentment moved her. - -“Really, Mr. Brill, I never have smoked and I don’t care to begin now. -I--I must be getting back to my work.” - -As she started from the room he lunged across a table and caught her. - -“But I am here to show you how. One lifts the terrible thing in the -fingers, so----” - -His pudgy left arm caught hers. The smaller fingers of his dimpled -right hand pressed up her chin. Thumb and forefinger sought to force -between her set teeth the lip-wet smoke. When she realized that his -foot was trying to push shut the door, an emotion new to Dolores -suddenly controlled her. - -“I don’t wish to smoke, I tell you. I don’t _wish_ to be shown.” - -With the indignant words she beat him upon the face and chest until he -fell back gasping. - -“Aha, a wild-cat is Nimrod’s latest trophy--a live one, at that!” - -Dolores remembered his chuckled comment after she had forced back the -door and rushed from the committee room. Down the corridor and around a -turn to the study she ran without one backward glance. - -Beside the couchant lynx she stopped, startled as looked the couple she -had interrupted. Within a scant foot of each other stood Dr. Willard -and a woman whom, somewhere, she had seen before. - -“I beg your pardon, but I----” - -Dolores’s apology stumbled as the visitor turned directly toward her. -An exquisite creature she was, slender in her close-wrapped blue -velvet, a haloesque effect created around her silver-gold hair by the -sunlight shafting from a high window. Her blue, plumed hat lay upon a -nearby chair. - -Dr. Willard raised a calming hand. - -“_My child!_” - -The emphasis laid on the familiar words as addressed to the girl gave -them an unfamiliar ring. - -Then: “Mrs. Cabot, this is my new secretary, Miss Trent.” - -Dolores’ response to the introduction was automatic. She felt confused, -distressed. What an evil chance to have cut short a clergyman’s advices -to the great lady reported to have been prostrated already by notoriety -suffered on her account! A rude return it seemed to the husband who had -befriended her. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Dolores need have felt no anxiety over what she should say. Mrs. Cabot -said everything--and more. - -“You philanthropists, will you ever get enough? Or aren’t there that -many?” - -The short-lipped, mouse-toothed, childlike smile with which she turned -from her pastor to settle her hat in the mirror was reflected toward -them. At the door she bowed composedly to Dolores and gave Dr. Willard -her hand. - -“In return for your wise counsel over my domestic troubles, dear -doctor, the favor you ask is small. Trust me. I’ll steal upstairs, -as if overwhelmingly attracted by the music. But remember--you have -assured me that you like the quality of her singing voice only because -some one else does _not_ like the super-quality with which she speaks.” - -After she had gone, Dr. Willard sank into the padded leather chair and -gazed out the window. He looked disturbed; bit his lip, as if trying -to control vexation; waggled his right foot as he was wont to do when -nervous. - -Dolores crossed the room, hesitated a moment before him, then sank upon -the hassock placed conveniently in front of his chair. - -“Scold me--I’d rather you would!” she exclaimed, a catch in her voice. -“I shouldn’t have burst in on your conference that way, but I just -couldn’t help it. I was so angry that I--I----” - -“Angry? _You_, my child?” - -So cleared of all vexation were the yellow-brown eyes bent to her -imploring look, that Dolores began to stammer out the cause of her -agitation. When her head dropped to her hands upon his knee, he -reached out and patted her on the shoulder, very, very kindly. - -“Poor orphan. Poor child,” he encouraged her. “I am indignant that such -a scene could be forced upon an inexperienced girl within these walls. -No matter how great may be Deacon Brill’s influence in the temporal -affairs of the church, I shall bring him to book in my own time and my -own way. Do not fear to tell me all.” - -Dolores told him. - -Shaken from her usual reticence, she also told him of her feeling of -aloneness since her father had died and the positive fear that was -growing in her--fear of the world and its ways. - -“Perhaps,” she suggested, “the unpleasant things which have happened to -me are partly my own fault.” - -“Your fault? You feel you have faults?” A glint lighted the agate gaze -as he questioned her. - -“I lack,” she confessed, “religion. It was left out of my life. My -father was, I think, embittered against it. He was very good to me, -but he didn’t send me to Sunday school any more than to public school. -Perhaps if he had, I’d have grown up more like other girls--more -self-reliant, less afraid.” - -“And less yourself,” he objected. “You have, I think, remarkable -self-control.” - -“You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say so, Dr. Willard. That has -been my only religion--self-control. It is very strange that a person -to whom I never spoke--whom I never saw but once--gave me the ambition -to learn it.” - -At his show of interest, Dolores recited the incident. “I was quite a -small girl, eight or nine, I guess. My father had left me to wait in -a railway station one day. I was worried because often he--because I -was afraid we’d miss our train. There was a lady sitting near me, also -waiting. I took to watching her. - -“She was attractive and wore nice clothes. I became fascinated by -the way she breathed, not out and in, as I had supposed all people -did, but up and down. The lace jabot on her breast would move up and -down, up and down. Of course, as I grew older, I realized that she -breathed that way from tight lacing. But at the time it seemed to me -more refined than the common way. And then I saw that she was going to -sneeze. I’ve always hated to see people sneeze--they make such a fuss. -But this lady prepared. She was quite calm. The jabot lifted high with -the breath she took. At the vital moment she was ready.” - -“And did she sneeze, my poor child?” - -“Oh, yes, doctor, but so neatly. She just leaned out and did it without -any fuss at all. Afterward, she didn’t sniff or even wipe her eyes. She -was very wonderful. I often think of her.” - -Shyly Dolores glanced up to see if the great intelligence had -anticipated her point. - -“The station was draughty. When my turn came, I breathed up and down -and prepared. I made up my mind to sneeze the lady’s way. And I -did. And afterward, the ambition to sneeze her way applied to other -things--decided me to take the draughts of life neatly--to be prepared -and make no fuss. I try and try, Dr. Willard. But I guess self-control -is not enough. Don’t you think people would understand me better if I -had your religion? Is it too late for me to learn it now?” - -“Emphatically not, you fatherless child.” The doctor apparently had -been touched by her conversational offering. Real feeling quivered on -the face bent over hers. “And there are other comforts it is not too -late for you to learn. Lean your lonely heart against mine. Let me -teach you a father’s love.” - -“If you would--oh, if you only would!” She seized his hands and pressed -one cheek against them. “It is so easy to learn from one you absolutely -trust.” - -“Don’t trust anyone absolutely. I fear at times that your rating of me -is too high.” Humility tore from her reverential regard the pastor’s -eyes, although his hands shook with appreciation of her praise. -“Remember how everything finite that goes up must come down. Only the -soul can ascend and stay on high. The flowers that lift their heads to -bloom must wither and die. The lightest feather in the most buoyant -breeze eventually returns to the earth from which it blew.” - -“But it is my soul you will exalt, dear Dr. Willard.” - -At her reminder, one of his hands moved to where its palm fitted over -the ball of her shoulder. - -“Let me be a father to you. Yes, let me be a father to you,” he kept -repeating. The while, his palm pressed her shoulder, began to move -around and around. - -“And you’ll teach me your religion?” - -Dolores’ head threw back in exhilarating hope. As one performs small -acts in the largest moments, she plucked a long, silver-gold hair off -the black cloth of his coat. In the same motion, despite her boasted -control of impulse, her hand continued around his neck. - -“_My_ religion, child? I’ll gladly teach if you--if you care to learn,” -he responded, drawing her to him in a close and closer embrace. - -“It means safety to me--everything. You won’t find me dull. I believe I -shall learn readily from you.” - -“I believe--you could.” The palm over the ball of her shoulder pressed -harder; moved faster. “But, dear daughter, don’t place me or any man -upon too high a pedestal, lest we fall--lest we fall.” - -“I am sure----” To avoid contradicting her mentor, the pupil altered -the form of her statement. “I _hope_ that you never will fall.” - -“And I hope--you don’t get--that hope!” - -With the hoarse exclamation, Dr. Willard rose to his feet, drew the -girl after him and clutched her with a vehemence that made them stand -as one. Before she could draw away her face or realize that suddenly -she was again afraid, she felt his mustache against her cheek. - -“We’ll seal the bargain, my child. Just the kiss of a father--the kiss -of a father,” he rasped close to her ear. - -The insult crushed upon her mouth was not, however, fatherly. The -unequal struggle started by it was of no spiritual excitation. How she -wrenched herself away from him; how he headed off her rush toward the -door; how she eluded his clutching pursuit in and out among the other -young animals he had trapped; how she escaped from their stumble over -the couchant lynx, left him panting on the floor, ran screaming like -the hunted thing he had made of her into the corridor and up the first -flight of stairs---- - -The full horror of what had happened did not come to her until she -stood before the astonished music committee. Her hair dishevelled, her -waist torn open down the front, her discretion in shreds, she flamed -upon them. - -“When even a minister of the gospel can’t be trusted, where--_where_ am -I to go?” - -That Mrs. Cabot still was with them further unnerved her. Collapsing -into a chair, struggling with hysteria, she sobbed out her -denunciation. When able to look among the faces of the group gathered -about her, she saw that all were grave excepting two. Mrs. Cabot looked -entertained, Mr. Brill triumphant. - -The manner that befits an occasion gave the deacon greater weight as he -turned to address his colleagues. - -“Brothers, I have long suspected that the feet of the god set up by -this congregation are of clay. I hesitated to voice so distressing a -thought, lest I err. None of you, however, can doubt the testimony -just heard and seen. The hardest-hearted of you can have only pity for -the courageous young woman who has exposed this aide of the Evil One. -Dumbfounded though you may be, I ask you to act with me now--_at once_. -There is not space within these hallowed walls to house both him and -me. Five minutes should give him time to choose between a church trial -or immediate resignation. In either case, it is important that we give -the news to Park Row at once, before he who is so fond of sensation -has time to discredit us. Brothers, shall we wait upon the pastor in -the sanctum which he has so disgraced?” - -While the honest laymen of All Mankind discussed this drastic proposal, -Brill addressed himself to the girl. - -“A man can scarcely be expected to understand the outraged state of -your feelings, Miss Trent. But at least I realize that you must shrink -from the idea of facing that wolf in sheep’s clothing again. I’ll send -your wraps up here. Also, it seems to me inadvisable for your own sake -that you remain in the employ of the church. In this envelope I have -sealed the equivalent of a month’s wages.... Oh, do not hesitate to -take it! Notice or money is due a dismissed employee.” - -Glancing over-shoulder and seeing that the committee had congregated -near the door in animated argument, he made his considerable figure the -silencer of a low-voiced apology. - -“Sorry I teased you about the cigarette, little girl. I had an object -which you did not at the time suspect--to discover, through you, more -about that scoundrel. I was trying you out, just as the soprano was -being tried out upstairs, to see whether he had got you into the bad -habit of smoking. Didn’t blame you at all when you scratched and bit, -so you mustn’t hold it against me. You appear to be a young woman of -sterling character--a mighty good little girl.” - -Bending and beaming, he patted her on the head. The eyes wontedly so -nondescript above the billowy face and cascade of chins, squinted -through their double lenses benevolently. - -“You’ll be wanting other employment,” he added in still lower tones, -as if not wishing his right hand to know. “Now, I advise something of -a--well, you know, of a little more secular nature. Take this card, -my dear. See that you arrive at the address on it about ten to-morrow -morning. Perhaps I’ll be able to find you a berth where I can keep a -friendly eye on you. You’ll come?” - -As he waddled out in the wake of his peers, Dolores heard him -continue: “About that matter of the soprano, brothers, I withdraw my -objection. Trouble often brings a change of heart and I feel that we -should stand together now in all things. Especially since Sister Cabot -is so decided in her agreement with you, I’ll try to enjoy the young -lady’s voice, although I still think her too old for that churchly, -newly-awakened-soul effect. I always hold myself open to conviction.” - -She also overheard his throaty chortles over the taunt of Mrs. Cabot: -“To younger and prettier convictions, you mean, Deacon?” - -Alone, Dolores stared dazedly down at the envelope and card she held. -Things happened so suddenly, once they began, she thought. Only this -morning she had chided herself for discontent with her settled state. -Now everything was unsettled again. As she had cried out to the -committee, what manner of man dared she trust? - -One of them had answered. The card---- - -Up to the light she held it. Upon it was engraved the name and downtown -business address of Deacon Brill himself. - -“You’ll come?” he had asked, voice, eyes, billows exuding loving -kindness. - -Even more urgently she asked herself: “Shall I go?” - -Next morning Dolores bought all the papers, determined to learn the -worst. Several of the more conservative merely mentioned that the Rev. -Dr. Alexander Willard had resigned the pastorate of the Church of -All Mankind. One suggested significant detail behind the surprising -act. Still another stated that the Eminent Divine would demand an -ecclesiastical trial and introduced the name of the young secretary -whom he, disregarding a certain premonishing contretemps, had sheltered -within his church home. - -The most sensational journal of all uncovered a photograph of the young -lady in the case and reviewed the lingerie-shop scandal referred to by -the discredited clergyman. This was featured beneath the heading: - - TOO STRONG FOR - DR. NIMROD’S SPORTING BLOOD - -Would the denomination he had served allow his reputation to be -charred by the brand he had tried so conscientiously to pluck from the -burning? So Rev. Willard was quoted as having demanded in an exclusive -interview. Would any fair-minded congregation take, against his, the -word of an adventuress who so lately had been the example for a reform -movement instituted by one of their most prominent parishioners, Mr. -John Cabot? Was he to be blamed that he had assumed the sincerity -of All Mankind’s ideals and had sought to make his charity wide as -its word? To save himself for sake of future good that he might do, -he would reveal, if forced, the overtures toward him of this unholy -creature. As a sacred duty he would show his world which of the two was -more sinned against than sinning. - -“A menace to men”--as such Dolores Trent was pointed out by the -reprimanding finger of the press. - -Deacon Brill’s threat of Park Row had swerved from the sheep-clothed -wolf to her. Whether or not Dr. Willard lost his pulpit, the harm to -his secretary already was done. - -In the little room found for her by her quandam benefactor, a room in -whose chintz-hung cosiness she had delighted, Dolores decided upon her -immediate course. There were young daughters in the family of the poor -parishioner. For their sakes, she would “fold her tents” before asked -to do so and, silently as she might, steal away. Thanks to savings from -her salary and that final payment in lieu of “notice,” she was more -affluent than ever before in her life. She would go, then. But where? - -Opening her purse, she took out a business card and considered it as -well as its kind-spoken donor. She would come? That had been Deacon -Brill’s last question. In the absence of alternative---- - -With sudden decision, she tore the card into bits and flung them -into the waste basket. Probably she didn’t understand men--that had -been her thought. But she _did_ understand and _did_ believe in the -up-floating purity of the voice of that soprano who had gone to dinner -with the music committee’s over-fleshed chairman--the young lady who -wouldn’t do. - -No alternative? - -The moment she cast aside what had seemed her only chance, she found -another in her fingers. Almost had she forgotten the address given her -by Patrolman Donovan O’Shay and tucked away in her purse. For weeks -she had not thought of his “near-French” friend, Madame Marie Sheehan. -Discounted by distance was her reason for postponing a visit to the -employment office. Since her own judgment seemed always wrong, she -would try the policeman’s. She would check herself in her “satchel” -until the fates, “née Mary Shinn,” should see fit to provide. - -“Madame’s” French certainly was bad. There were advantages, however, -in the long lapses between the selection of one word and her advance -to the next. Dolores had ample time to translate the high-voiced -utterances overheard from the inside room. - -“Ah, but no! I fit the applicant to the position, not the position to -the applicant. So long you have been lacking the employment. So quite -joyful should you be for anything. The call for companions is rare, -very. One, two, three applicants have I booked before that you come. -This position I so kindly extend----” - -“I tell you, nothing doing!” the interruption came in emphatic, current -American. “I was a governess two days once. I tell you I’d rather try -the streets. Children ain’t human beings. They’re devils, say I.” - -“The devil? Ah, but no, _no_! More unto an angel is this exquisite -child. Could you once see those curls of gold, those turquoise eyes! -The parents are from money made and them I have promised a governess -to-day.” - -“Well, you redeem your promise at the expense of somebody else. I’ll be -back to-morrow for my job. Good day to you, _Madame_ Shinn!” - -If the sneer of this would-be companion, thought Dolores, was a sample -of her companionableness, small wonder that she was out of a position. - -No hesitation held the girl in waiting. Ignorant of the rules of such -offices, unmindful of the dour-visaged hope-lorn awaiting their turn on -the benches of the outer room, she brushed past the departing aspirant -into madame’s presence. - -“Won’t you let me have that position?” she asked in lieu of -introduction. “I love children. I know I’d suit. I don’t care so much -about the pay or----” - -“So too fast you go!” interrupted née Shinn. “You look but the infant -yourself. And the qualifications----” - -“Of course you couldn’t be expected to know it yet, dear madame, but -I am qualified. As for education--Listen, I shall speak in three -languages!” Under impetus of the unwonted initiative ruling her, -Dolores switched from English to French, then to Italian as she urged: -“I am young, yes, but that is why I need a home. And what companionship -would be safer for me than that of a child such as this golden-haired -little girl you describe? Once madame was as young as I. Was she ever, -perchance, alone in the world?” - -“Mademoiselle is marvelously a linguist,” admitted Mrs. Shinn, although -confusion from more than the foreign words sat upon her broad features. -“Have you also the excellent references?” - -Momentarily the girl’s new-found assurance stumbled. Then again was she -inspired. - -“I have, indeed, a par-excellent one.” - -Her Spanish--a creditable attempt at a fourth language--may not have -been comprehensible to the agency woman, but Donovan O’Shay’s scribble -was. A good-natured smile waved in like a flag her native tongue. - -“A friend of Don’s are you, then, my _chérie_? Sure, if you’re as good -as that boy’s heart, you’re O. K.!” - -Motherly instructions and penciled directions followed Dolores’ payment -of the fee. If she’d just “speak up,” now, to Mrs. M. P. Morrison of -No. ---- Fifth Avenue as she had to madame herself, she stood a chance of -overcoming natural objections to her youth and inexperience. - -The glow of anticipated victory did not leave Dolores’ face at first -sight of Mrs. Morrison’s mansion, although it was something of a shock. -Nothing should frighten her now. She had made one friend--a woman -friend. She might--she _must_ make another. - -Briskly as though prepared for the block-front display of lawn, unusual -even on this avenue of extravagance, she turned in through the center -gateway. Under the bare trees which she knew to be so costly a luxury, -she hurried, as if fearful that some late-clinging leaf might mistake -her importance and honor her head. Past clumps of drying hydrangeas, -past a fountain which still defied the freeze of winter with rainbow -spray, past a marble dryad of a cynical smirk afterwards acutely -remembered, she found herself confronted by a well-balanced marble -pile. Without a pause, lest trepidation weaken her, she descended the -steps to the ground-floor entrance and pressed the bell. - -An elderly gentleman, of such distinguished appearance that she felt -he must be the master of the house himself, opened the door. After -inspection of Madame Sheehan’s card, he escorted her across a galleried -entrance hall of a luxury and loftiness well-nigh incredible. At the -rear, he threw open the door of a small parlor, cheerful from its -window-boxed blooming geraniums. Mrs. Morrison would be down, he told -her. - -Dolores’ wait was not long. The tap-tap of high heels upon the marble -foyer outside brought her to her feet. She “spoke up” according to -instructions and tried to recall the assurance which had carried her -past the rules--_and_ the French--of née Shinn. She stressed her -education and the “way” she was said to have with children, especially -with little girls. - -The more she talked, however, the more serious looked the woman whom -she hoped to make her friend. - -“I am afraid,” said Mrs. Morrison, “that the case has been -misrepresented. Strange, when I explained to Madame Sheehan myself, on -my trip among the agencies this morning! The child for whom I need a -governess is not a girl and has anything but the amiable disposition -accredited to him.” - -“Madame’s French must have misled me.” Dolores chose to ignore the -particulars of “those curls of gold, those turquoise eyes,” evidently -mere chimera of a Hibernian imagination. At the suggestion of failure -she all the more craved success. “It does not especially matter that he -is not a girl. He is a child, isn’t he?” - -Mrs. Morrison glanced rather suspiciously at her. “I don’t know. The -last governess called him a fiend. You are different from the sort we -have had and expected again. I scarcely know what to say. You look a -sweet-dispositioned girl, but are very young. Perhaps I’d better leave -the decision to----” - -Laughter and spirited repartee in the voices of a man and a woman -sounded pleasantly from the hall. They seemed to decide her. She arose; -crossed to the door; paused briefly to say: “His mother has just come -in from her ride. Perhaps she will speak with you.” - -“His mother? But--I thought--that you----” - -Dolores, again alone, began to understand. Of course Mrs. Morrison was -the housekeeper. That explained the first-floor parlor, the neat black -taffeta of her dress and her subdued manner. A third application for -the coveted position must be made. - -When, next moment, the door was pushed wide, she did not rise. She had -not the strength. A woman in a smart habit of black velvet coat and -white cloth breeches had clattered in, crop in hand. - -“Master Jack’s mother will speak with you, Miss Trent,” introduced the -housekeeper. - -Still Dolores found her limbs weaker than her will. She clung to both -arms of the chair and waited for the real sponsor for the “fiend-child” -to speak. - -She--the mother--was Mrs. Cabot. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -His Majesty himself dropped the curtain on the earth-play of the -spirit-girl. - -“The only real value of a story is its effect upon yourself,” he said. -“I must have an interval in which to judge the worth of yours.” - -At the time Dolores felt relieved, although he had not confused her -with the interruptions and insistence of the previous séance. He had -allowed her to tell her story her own way, swiftly and simply, and -showed a positive gravity of attention over the ecclesiastic incidents. - -Not until the next night came and went without the call for a third -installment, did she suspect that he had been merely bored. - -When a second night passed with the same significant omission and, -after that, a third, fear possessed her. - -Had she, then, fallen short of his expectations? Had she done what he -had warned her not to do--had she failed? - -She took to staying in her chamber and hoping for his summons more than -previously she had dreaded it. Over her babe she would hover the hours -away, brooding rather than rejoicing at each cooed assurance that the -infant-shade was content. Would the price of the respite be paid in -part by the blameless soul of her soul? - -To her here, through the guarded gossip of the proud Adeline, came -reports of a direful activity on the part of the King. Never had he -been more exacting, more merciless in his reversal of punishment for -reward. His disposition of that first evening during which she had -waited in vain seemed directly inspired by her reminiscences of the -parson person. In an open-air camp-meeting, “His Damnity” had preached -the first of seven announced “sermons” to a vast concourse. Seven, -it seemed, was the perfect number--a royal superstition. Hadn’t she -counted his seven courtiers, the seven windows of the throne-room, -seven courses at dinner, seven days in his week? - -Adeline admitted herself to have been a unit of the congregation of -fiends. The first sermon had been, to say the least, impressive. -Satan’s text had been orthodox: “_A star fell from Heaven unto the -earth; and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit._” He had -attacked the letter of The Law. To be saved by “believing”--how vain a -promise when to that Star of Heaven was given the key to the pit into -which all eventually would be hurled who had been born heirs to sin! - -Over Omnipotent Egotism he had ranted himself into a rage which had -made his audience tremble. Fire flashed from his nostrils, his eyes, -his finger-tips, as he compared his own indefatigable assertiveness -with the retirement into the Light of the Great-I-Am. How dare He sit -back, smug over his one noteworthy achievement--the Creation? - -The Law of Redemption, pah! What were laws that were not enforced--mere -vague threats of a future state? He asked consideration of the -handling of his own first law as keeper of the pit key. Did he ever -delay collection of the wages of sin? Angel worship was forbidden and -he didn’t expect them to worship him. But they could fear him and, -fearing, must serve him. He advised them to hitch their hope-wagons to -that fallen star--“their archangel in eclipse and the excess of glory -obscured.” - -Truly this departure in infernal propaganda must have been fearsome. -Also fearsome was Dolores’ wonder over why she alone had not been -bidden to attend. Adeline was inclined to attribute the omission to -stage fright. M’lord, remembering the standard to which his entertainer -had been educated, feared to fall short. Having successfully tried out -his “delivery,” however, he probably would ask her to the second sermon -of the seven. - -But what of the two intervening nights? Why this surcease of interest -in the griefs which so had diverted him? - -Dolores was forced to the conclusion that she had ceased to entertain. -Perhaps, even then, the evil eye was sighting her fate and the fate of -her babe. - -Desperation shook her from the stupor of waiting. He had preached -action in his sermon, according to report. She must _do_ something to -re-arouse his curiosity. In the late afternoon, as she knew, he often -strolled in his favorite garden of Bad Luck. She dared not ask for an -appointment; no. Yet why not “happen” to meet him? - -In selecting the rays in which to dress, she remembered his preference -for purples and scarlets, rather than the more delicate half-lights in -which she would have clothed herself. But even while thanking Adeline -for a grudging compliment over the blend of her robe with the purplish -shadows of her eyes, she realized the depths to which she was sinking. -For the first time she understood those women of earth who adorned -themselves to enslave men whom they had come to hate. Those they feared -most, they must charm. Poor, _poor_ women of Earth! - -In the lower reaches of the garden she came upon an illustration of her -thought--a fountain effect whose central figure was the sculped, naked -body of a woman bent beneath the club of her man and master, on her -lips a seductive smile, from her eyes spouting twin founts of electric -spray--tears of terror. - -Hearing footsteps behind, Dolores stopped, as if in admiration of the -ghoulish conceit. The throb of her temples was not cooled by the hot -winds with which the tropical foliage illusions of the garden were -artificially fanned. The sinking sensation at her heart was no sickness -from the too-intense odors of the lavish-looking bloom. The hurt of -her ears could not be blamed on shrieks of the peacocks, parrakeets -and tanagers which soundlessly strutted and winged about. No winds of -Gehenna might discomfort her, except in her own acknowledgment. No -odors, except from memory, might penetrate her senses from poinsettias -or rhododendrons. No sound, except as she imagined it, might swell the -throats of the birds. From the rubber plants grouped at the entrance -gate, through the lane of Spanish bayonets whose barbs were a menace to -one who strolled, to the fountain called “Fate of the Fair,” the garden -was one vast stage set, a master chimera. Bad luck, then--that too must -be hallucination. - -Courage came to Dolores with the thought. She, an immortal woman soul, -would not bow the neck to an undeserved club. She must lift her head -believing that even the winds of Hell would cool her brow; must delight -in fragrances, strong from her own expectation; must open wide her ears -to the Seraphs’ song of hope. - -Ready to meet His Majesty, she turned. Her disappointment was keen -as her courage to see in him who was approaching the lame old -soldier-soul, Samuel Cummings. At first only his face and crutch were -recognizable, so resplendent was he in the uniform of an officer of the -Hadean Hordes. When he drew up before her with his old-time salute, she -counted on his forehead, branded blood-red, the stars of a general. - -Her maid had told him he’d find her out here, the old chap explained. -He had come to tell her the news. His Majesty had called him to an -interview night before last and promoted him because it was beneath the -Royal dignity to confer in private with a corporal. - -So Old Sam, then, had supplanted her as entertainer. - -As if in answer to Dolores’ thought, he motioned with his crutch toward -a bench of opalesque stone that stood beneath an arbor of purple -bourgainvillae. The honor paid him, he declared, was only the preface -to his news. When seated beside her, however, he seemed loathe to -proceed; glanced uneasily among the flowers of an oleander bush which -changed color with alternating currents of red and white. - -His “news,” he at last confessed in guarded tones, concerned herself. -Dangerous though a report might be, he felt one his duty. His -summons into The Presence had been to discuss her. His Highness had -reintroduced the subject of “Grief to Men” and asked the veteran’s -opinion on a number of her points. Did Sam think her the most beautiful -woman he ever had seen? Did he consider her deep or just dumb? In what, -according to a recent earthling, lay her chief charm? - -On the whole, declared the old new general, Satan had acted a good deal -as would some human swain who was getting interested in a girl. With -men, he wasn’t such a bad sort as Sam had expected. But with women---- -There never was any telling what---- She--she understood? - -At his embarrassed glance, she nodded. What woman had better reason to -understand than she? - -“One question he asked was why I thought you never smiled,” the simple -soul continued solemnly. “That stumped me. As I told him, Mary Gertrude -used to be one laugh from morn till eve. ‘Odd,’ said he, ‘when she’s -caused all those griefs.’” - -“I never learned to smile,” said Dolores. “My father never did. He used -to laugh sometimes. It was terrible to hear him. But he never smiled.” - -The wag of Old Sam’s head was rueful. “I don’t want to worry you, but -I feel I should tell you what he called you--his ‘latest flame in the -land of such.’ And he asked me if I thought that a woman who had ruined -so many humans could be of any use to an immortal--some real bad one, -say, who had a good thing to offer her. I reminded him of the Littlest -Devil. ‘Oh, the B. B.,’ says he. ‘Likely she did make one of them happy -for a while. That isn’t what I mean. My thoughts of her are pure--pure -as Hell.’ Ma’am, I can’t figure it out any other way than that he’s got -a weakness for you.” - -“Please--_please_ don’t say that!” - -Dolores shuddered as though shaken by the torrid breeze, then withdrew -from his side to the outmost end of the bench. Some unseen force had -moved her. Grateful though she felt for his effort to forearm her, she -found herself unable to reassure him. A hateful reluctance stayed her -tongue. - -Came startling interpolation: “_All has been overheard._” - -The words were spoken in a voice which both recognized. There -materialized to their vision the superb face and figure of His Satanic -Majesty. He was seated between them. - -“Eavesdropping is old stuff, I know,” he remarked easily, “but it never -ceases to be.” - -“It was you who forced me aside?” Dolores struggled with her -indignation. “I didn’t know you could make yourself invisible.” - -“Surest thing you _didn’t_ know, then. Turning oneself on or off is -a trick that our late angel did not lose in his fall. Fancy one of -the Cherubim reduced to turning himself off and on in lowlands like -Gehenna!” - -With angry intolerance, he faced toward General Sam. “What’s this you -were saying about me? A weakness--_I_?” - -“A man’s weakness for his woman is his strength,” the soldier-soul -contended. - -“Your tongue tangles when you measure my strength by that of men. -I am----” and Satan’s glance slashed out like a sword--“I am the -Destroyer. Fool, fear me!” Irritably he added: “Who do you think you -are--Prometheus unbound? Why do you suppose I promoted you if not -to get rid of you without breaking my pact with Dame Dolores? Get -yourself to the nearest army camp, and make believe you’ve earned your -commission. See you stay there, too, until I send for you.” - -“But what about my appointment in the palace? Who will hold the bowl -for Your Highness’ tears?” - -The King arose as though further enraged by the reminder, then -succumbed to a sort of paroxysm so violent that his utterance was -impeded. - -“Tears--and over Dolores’ griefs to men? Now I know you are a fool. -To have taken me seriously when I called myself a crocodile! I to -weep--and over human nature? Excuse me, folks. Let me enjoy myself -while I’m young. Honestly, I near injure my sides every time I think -of what she put over on that high-priest of the Great-I-Am!” - -Too preoccupied was he to return his new-made general’s salute. Not -until the sound of Old Sam’s peg-leg had ceased to punctuate the pause -did he reseat himself upon the bench. - -“As for you, designing jade----” - -In the very midst of his address, he became lost in contemplation -of the royal toes. The girl-shade beside him realized that not once -to-day had he looked directly at her. She was reminded painfully of an -earthling who had been strong toward all his world, yet weak toward -her. He _must_ not have that sort of weakness for her--Satan. He must -look at her. She leaned toward him and tried to smile. But he would not -meet her eyes. Hideous it was that he should ape the mannerism toward -her of that one she had cared for most on earth. - -Long it seemed before he completed his remark. - -He had her at last, he declared; had preferred not to see or hear her -again until he had her. Now he was ready to take up with her the matter -of her status in Shadow Land. Had she wondered why she was the only -soul about the court not more or less tormented? The answer was easy. -Torment wasted power. He chuckled; then, on noting that he chuckled -alone, frowned. Had she no sense of humor? - -At her ingenuous acknowledgment of her lack in that respect, the -Satanic brow cleared. To know that she had not humor was humor in -itself. Positively the most comical thing about the story of her -life was that she could be so serious over it now that she was dead. -Henceforth he should not expect anything in her but soul. He had a -beautiful soul himself. But he didn’t let it interfere with his daily -pleasures. - -At first he had attributed his interest in her to the correlative facts -that she was a fallen woman and he a fallen angel. When, later, he had -come to realize her desirability to devils in general, he had searched -for a more comprehensive reason. - -To his way of looking, she was pleasant to the eye. But beauty was a -matter of taste. To a Zulu she wouldn’t compare with his thick-lipped, -black-hued mate. The Cabot’s housekeeper, Mrs. Morrison, might be right -in accrediting her with a sweet disposition. Yet weren’t unattractive -girls usually called “sweet” and “good-natured”? She appeared to be -unselfish--and where was there an attribute so tiresome in women as -unselfishness? The fact that she boasted no brilliancy was a point in -her favor. The suggestion of an ardent nature in those dear little -wrinkles around her mouth might be either pro or con. - -In what, then, lay her lure? - -He had felt he should lose respect for his intelligence if obliged -to hear to the end of her story to know. He had found the clue in -the least important of her conquests--in him she called the “city’s -choice.” Why had that young Irishman’s blood gushed to his face at the -cling of her hand upon his arm, only to recede at the look of eyes -so like those of his year-old babe? Why had he calmed into a fine -protectorate from one of those sudden physical excitements peculiar to -mortal men? - -He had got her, had got her at last. And with her he had got the secret -of her power--a secret of inestimable value to herself. Oh, she need -not look so helpless and perturbed! She need not maintain that pose -with him, now that he understood. - -“Exactly what is it in me----” the dark head drooped--“that you -understand?” - -He slashed out at an oleander until it blazed at him its bi-colored -fire. - -“You were red and white--a human flower more attractively charged than -any in my garden of Bad Luck.” He rose to bow before her, low and -with no trace of irony. “You were an effect unique among womankind, a -combination of unconscious lust and seductive innocence. You appealed -with equal force to the bad and the good in that creature as near devil -as angel--everyman. _I_ know. Am I not the limit in both?” - -From gay to grave his manner again changed when he squared around and -at last faced her. - -“Never have I destroyed any force that works for me,” he stated. -“You have powers for evil which, if developed, might rival my own. -It remains with you whether that power increases in you or, through -duress, is destroyed. Come, what do you say?” - -“What can I say, when I don’t know----” - -“Allow me to say it for you, then. As I have explained in part, I -need--and need in a hurry--more men souls than I have been able to -draft since the conception of my Great Intention. Although I’ve -never been above taking any outside help I can get, I always have -despised the retroaction upon men of women. Since Eve, the fair have -been a sickly lot, more given to good influences than bad. Even the -experts developed by modern sex and social problems have shown chiefly -stupidity. Not the worst of them but have ideas of _bona fide_ reform -back of the rows they’re raising. As for the vampires, real ones -always have been rare. That Catherine Cabot, to whom you’ve called my -attention, is exceptional.” - -“Yes. Dr. Shayle used to say that Catherine couldn’t be ‘reached’.” - -“Shayle--is that the name of the ruined healer on your passport?” - -“Oh, the world was mistaken about him, Your Majesty. Dear Clarke -Shayle--he said I saved him.” - -“Let us hope not, you slave to tradition!” His Highness snapped. “If -you knew the deplorable failure I’ve made trying to get bad results -from women, you’d agree that I’d best stick to my last--and first--the -men. However, since you’ve been séancing with me evenings, certain -possibilities of making your sex serve my purposes have opened up -before me. In the past my idea has been that the more I could keep -women under, the worse the world would be. You have changed my slogan -to ‘Turn ’em loose’.” - -“_I?_” - -For a moment Satan enjoyed the admixture of humbleness and indignation -in her query. - -“Nice work,” he commented. “Such feminism may be made the most dynamic -evil in the universe by one who masters it. De Maupassant thought he -had, but his ideas of women were limited to types of his time. I have -the one mind that can look at your sex unbiased by sentiment. As I had -no mother, all women are before, none behind me. The male may go on -and on indefinitely with sex villainies. But the female is likely to -learn from one indecency, her Swan Song, as it were. Yet her lamentable -limitations need not discourage us, since wars have made the fair -population exceed--shall I say, the foul? ‘By their works ye shall know -them.’ Your works I know. Ergo, I know you. Unlike your friend of the -employment agency, I fit the position to the applicant. Here is the job -I had created for you.” - -He would make her manager, accountable only to himself, of the woman’s -department of the mortal world; would teach her the psychology of -spiritual communication, so that she might personally direct important -cases, as did he in his own field; would place under her charge a -school of female fiends whom she might entrust with missions on earth -as soon as she deemed them sufficiently proficient in her subtleties, -even as he did his demon sleuths. - -To appeal, to obtain, to destroy--was not that the mission of her sex? -And yet so long had women been burden-bearers, deprived of initiative -by the master’s rein and hoppled by the ultimate of man-made laws, -that even he who so sorely needed them, had failed to appreciate their -suppressed power. Never would they come into their own until they -learned that their capability lay, not in trying to be what they were -not, but in being essentially and ruthlessly what they were. - -“Ah, wrigglier than a she-cobra’s wriggle is the female of my dreams!” -Glowing from that ruddy mist of concentration which once before Dolores -had seen, His Highness warmed to his thought. “If all the anarchists in -my incubators were matured, they’d be a puny menace to society and the -State as compared with women let loose. Take the punitive laws from any -class and what is the result? Riot, bestiality, sin. Fear is what has -held women down. Take away fear and what will they do? They’ll master -the men. Once give ’em license and they’ll soon make up for their -enforced virtue of the past. The fact that they do not originate is -their best-worst trait--saves a lot of energy. Why, when I contemplate -their daring, their imperviousness to pain, their concentration through -heredity upon the meaner issues; when I allow myself to imagine the -deafening pop of the bottled-up indignities poured upon them in the -past--_Whew!_ I, the First and Last, shudder in humility over my -virtues. This I give you as a prophecy: To the female of the species is -the victory of vice.” - -Dolores was lifted above fear for herself by fear for womankind. - -“For shame!” she cried. - -“Shame? What is that?” - -“What I feel for you, Your--Your Lowness.” - -“Good! I _must_ be getting bad. It is well that you pay me an out-loud -compliment now and then, when I’m paying you with the utmost of my -unlimited power. You encourage me to proceed. Although I don’t wish -you to doff your gentle ways--they’ll serve as a model for your -she-destroyers--you must keep clearly in mind that our chief emotion -down here is hate--immortal hate.” - -“Hate immortal? I find it hard to think of such a thing. I am sure that -I never could hate for long. On Earth, I might stay angry with some one -through the day, but I couldn’t go to sleep until I forgave.” - -His Majesty scowled down at her, evidently disturbed. “It’s all right -to look that idea. Of course you don’t feel it. You certainly must hate -these earthlings you’re telling us about.” - -“You are wrong. I don’t hate them. Somehow I can’t hate any of them.” -With a catch of breath, she added: “If you said immortal love, now----” - -“Tut, tut, my child. Isn’t it hot enough down here? Don’t heat up my -imagination.” - -“But didn’t you ever feel love for anybody?” - -“No, nor wouldn’t if I could. Love is weakening--orangeade for -temperance fools like General Sam. What is it anyhow? Some old -scientist has defined it as ‘merely the attraction of billions of -atoms, electrically charged in the system, corresponding to the same -number of the same sort of atoms in a person of the opposite sex.’ -There you have it. What is so marvelous about that--what to make such a -to-do over?” - -“That definition doesn’t sound right to me.” - -Dolores’ eyes gazed out over the garden with a waiting look. It was as -if, within their shadows of a purple that shamed the bourgainvillae -bloom, hope was hiding in the arbor. - -The King watched her in his considering way. His arm stretched along -the back of the bench. When convinced that she had forgotten his -presence, he suddenly snapped his strong, long fingers around the nape -of her neck. - -With a smothered scream, Dolores tried to shake off his clutch. Never -from a mortal man had she felt a touch so offensive, yet so loathsomely -attracting. - -“Please release me. You are so--so intense!” - -“Quite too intense”--Satan drew back his lips over his teeth in a -bestial smile--“and in the imperative tense. Remember, Dame Dolores, -that what I want, I do not ask. I take.” - -Sliding his hand down her arm, he drew her to her feet. - -“Considering that, how do you like the prospect of this High Priestess -job?” - -“I simply couldn’t do such things as you propose,” she dared his -displeasure to protest. “I should fail dismally, for I am not at heart -the sort you think. You say that love weakens one, but my spirit -would die, I know, if I cast love out and tried to hate. You would be -disappointed in me and your plans planned in vain. If success is what -you demand, choose some one stronger in hate than I--some one who----” - -“Playing in form to the last!” he commented. “You are wise. There -really is no comparison between this appointment and one to the -Wanton’s Well or, say, the Traitors to Mothers. You, by the way, are a -native daughter to the last-named state. Did that strike you the other -day? According to your own account, you killed your mother before the -poor thing could so much as say ‘top o’ the morning.’” - -“At least let me think it over. Let me finish the séances first,” -Dolores plead, under the iron of his reminder. “I am exhausted each -night when they are over and busy all the next day planning how best I -may continue to entertain Your Lowness. A new undertaking might make me -a failure in both.” - -“There is something to that, unless----” He peered down at her -suspiciously. “You’re not aspiring to outwit me by dragging out that -life story indefinitely? The new job _will_ tax your concentration, no -doubt of it. And you do look all in after your regular evening stunt. -All right. You may have one week after the end of the séances in which -to make up such of your mind as I have not made up for you. But I -say----” - -“Yes, Your---- Yes, Pluto?” - -“Aren’t you the dearest of griefs?” Although he laughed at the guile -with which she had thanked him for his concession, he finished the -warning sternly. “See you make your story snappy to-night. Don’t let -these days of grace--or disgrace--make you as profuse of unessential -details as you’ve been chary of the essentials past nights. If you -do, you’ll find yourself talking against time with a vengeance. A -vengeance--get that?” - -Yes, she assured him, her voice a minor chord. And she would try to -make it “snappy.” - -A weakness for her? As compared with the strength he was showing to -bend or break her to his will, that dread now seemed a hope. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -In the long moment during which Mrs. Cabot leveled her astonished stare -upon the applicant as governess to her son, the girl did not breathe. -When direct demand was made of her she could not speak. - -“Tell me, is coming here your own idea? Or did my husband----?” - -The smart vision in black and white interrupted herself by an -over-shoulder invitation. - -“Come in, Henri. Be moved to admiration of my John. Even you will -concede that he is improving.” - -To the personage in blue-gray uniform who clattered at her side, she -added: - -“You have the privilege of viewing at close range the famed Dolores -Trent.” - -“Ah, the mademoiselle which Meestaire Cabot have rescue?” inquired the -French cavalry officer. - -“The same. Is there anything like rescuing a lady, my dear d’Elie, to -excite a man’s interest in her? He is pleased with her because pleased -with himself--so pleased that he wants to keep right on rescuing her. -I might have known that John would locate the disappearing heroine of -his hero act sooner or later. But how naïvely American to try to make a -convenience of his own home!” - -In Dolores’ silence Mrs. Morrison denied the charge. - -“Miss Trent was sent here through Madame Sheehan’s agency, to which I -frequently apply. Up to the moment you came in just now, Mrs. Cabot, -she thought me the mother of the child in need of a governess. I assure -you that Mr. Cabot had nothing to do with her application.” - -An arpeggio of light laughter, accompanied by a bass chord, greeted -this defense. - -“No use talking, she’s _good_, isn’t she?” Mrs. Cabot asked her escort, -before turning directly to Dolores. “But I fear, Miss Trent, that -you’re not quite good enough. A mother owes something to her child, -even though a father thinks that he does not. I thank you for coming. -You have succeeded better than our parson friend’s lynx in giving me a -rare sensation--that of surprise. I wish you a very good morning.” - -Dolores rose; heard a quiet voice making her reply. - -“And I am sorry that I came. I shouldn’t have done so had I understood. -I hope you will believe Mrs. Morrison, if not me, for Mr. Cabot’s sake. -Good morning.” - -On her way to the entrance, the purport of a rapid exchange in French -between him named as d’Elie and Mrs. Cabot was forced upon her -realization. - -“Pardon, adored one, but have you considered the other needs of your -household?” - -“What other needs could there be in which this celebrated miss is -concerned?” - -“Only yesterday madame was saying that her husband seemed afflicted -with ennui--that it might be advisable to stimulate his interest -in life. Might it not prove pleasant, my angel, if the father of -the infant terrible should find the new governess--shall I say, -_congenial_?” - -“Enough, my clever Henri. I understand.” - -So complete was the change of manner with which Mrs. Cabot stopped the -girl at the door that a more experienced person could scarcely have -been blamed for bewilderment. Her cynical expression was lost in a -humid smile. Her voice softened. She tossed aside the crop with which -she had been swishing the air to extend the hand of appeal. - -“The Marquis d’Elie has criticized my lack of charity,” she -said. “Perhaps I _am_ wrong to jump at conclusions. And it is a -responsibility to send a mere child like you back into a world which -already has been rather hard on her. Then, too, my unfortunate -offspring is to be considered. It is quite possible that he might get -along better with a young person than the nursery monitors he so often -has defeated. I wonder if you are as amiable as you look--if you could -forgive the hasty things I said just now?” - -Dolores did not know what to think, still less what to say. She parried -by a question which interested her. - -“You call your son unfortunate. What is the matter with him?” - -Catherine Cabot’s first talent was that of taking. Whatever she wanted -in life she took as her perquisite. Always had she taken admiration, -service, flattery, love, sacrifice, money. Literally she had taken her -husband because he was useful to her. She proceeded now to take Dolores -Trent. - -“Oh, my dear, if you could know how unfortunate! Most children have -some sort of a chance, but not my poor Jackie. Probably after you have -seen him and know something of the disposition that comes from his -sufferings, you won’t wish to undertake him. You would need a love for -children great enough to include the most unlovable.” - -“But I have a great love for children,” Dolores said. “My neighbors -used to say that I have a way with them.” - -“Mr. Cabot would be relieved of his heaviest burden if we’d find some -one who could handle Jack.” Catherine continued her “taking.” “It would -seem like a fatality, wouldn’t it, if in return for his small service -to you that day at Seff’s----” - -“His service wasn’t small, Mrs. Cabot. I may have seemed ungrateful not -to thank him, but I---- You see----” - -“Of course you couldn’t and of course he didn’t wish you to,” the -wife assured her. “But it would be really beautiful--sort of nice and -Emersonian--if you could pass along the favor he did you to his child. -Suppose you hold an open mind, Miss Trent, until after you’ve met Jack. -I’ll come to his rooms later and help to explain him. Morrison will -take up all details with you, if you should decide to stay. Won’t you -try, anyhow, to forget and forgive my unkindness?” - -The girl, still standing just within the door, heard the Frenchman’s -congratulation, as the brilliant-looking pair disappeared among the -palms of the foyer. - -“But you are wonderful, my adored one, most wonderful!” - - * * * * * - -As Dolores stepped off the elevator onto the third-floor balcony that -overlooked the great, glass-domed hall, a woman’s scream cut the quiet. -The housekeeper hurried ahead and threw open the door of a large, -sun-flooded room. - -“He have bite me, Mees Morrison. But see this mark on my wrist. I -should regret to desert madame, but I give up my place rather than play -as the nurse one hour longer.” - -The plaint arose from a be-capped young woman whom Dolores later -learned to be Annette, Mrs. Cabot’s maid, pressed into emergency -service. She had made a shield of a light chair between herself and the -boy of eight, or thereabouts, who was pursuing her. The bone of their -contention seemed to be a particularly boneless toy dog held above his -reach. - -Dolores’ first view of John Cabot, Jr., was not heartening. His only -recognition of her presence was a scowl. In lurching forward over the -chair to recapture his plaything, he slipped and fell, with a shriek -more of chagrin than pain, upon the floor. When Morrison and Annette -rushed to his assistance, Dolores intervened. She asked that they leave -her alone with the boy. - -After the closing click of the door she crossed to one of the windows; -seated herself in an upholstered chair; gave her attention to the park -view. - -“Why don’t you come and pick me up?” - -At the demand, she turned to see that Master Jack still sprawled on the -floor, his chin cupped in his hands, his unchildlike frown upon her. - -“I didn’t suppose you’d wish to be picked up--a big boy like you,” she -said. “I didn’t suppose you’d even wish me to look at you.” - -She regretted the ruse the moment she realized his physical handicap. -Having challenged his pride, however, she hesitated to retreat. But an -ache for him which never was entirely eased came into her heart as she -watched his efforts to achieve his feet; noted the warped condition of -his legs; watched his peculiar gait as he approached her--a slithering -forward of his feet, with no yield at his knees and hips. - -Jack’s upper body was only fairly developed, yet by comparison with -his nether limbs his arms looked excessively long. His head, with its -luxurious growth of dark brown, slightly curling hair, was large as a -gnome’s. At the moment his features were twisted into an expression of -resentment. Only his eyes were beautiful, wide-set and Irish-gray in -color, with an outsweep of long, almost black lashes. - -A certain embarrassment for him, which quickly followed the shock of -noting his deformity, caused Dolores to lift her eyes toward a square -object wrapped about with a bath towel, which was suspended from the -ceiling near the window. - -“A bird?” she asked irrelevantly. - -“A canary.” Master Jack now stood directly before her. “He sings so -much around noon-time, I bag him.” - -“And don’t you like him to sing?” - -“Of course not. He sounds too happy. Who are you, anyway?” - -Dolores’ eyes filled with the wistfulness that always overflowed -her heart at thought of her own lonely childhood--her super-sad -little-girlhood. - -“I am some one your mother has engaged to keep you company,” she told -him. “I do hope we can make a go of it, Jack. I certainly should -appreciate your friendship.” - -“You’re not----” Suspicion stiffened his face. “Say, if you’re another -governess----” - -“I’d rather be,” she interrupted, “sort of a pal.” - -“But you couldn’t play boy’s games. What’s your name?” - -“Dolores Trent. Dolores means grief.” - -“’Lores--grief?” - -His interest was caught, as had been Vincent Seff’s, by that “sad -little name” of hers. He hooked one hand to his hip like some shrunken -old man and studied her from beneath the graceful sweep of his lashes. -New objection occurred to him. - -“My mother insists that I keep cheerful all the time. She mightn’t let -you stay if she knew your name meant grief. She hung Dick in here. -That’s one reason I don’t like him.” - -“How you must love your mother, Jack--she’s so beautiful!” - -“That’s no reason to love anybody,” came his startling statement. “I’ve -been living with my mother going on nine years now and she’s getting -kind of stale. I don’t mind your name--being kept cheerful all the time -is what I hate the most. I won’t stand it, I tell you!” - -Dolores quieted his returning excitement with a shrug of compliance. -“Let’s just be miserable together, then.” - -“Until that gets tiresome.” Even with the shrewd proviso, one corner of -the boy’s over-large mouth twitched, as if from humor. “Mind, I get my -own way,” he warned, “except when John’s home.” - -“John?” she asked. - -“My father. He’s the only person I respect, unless it is Clarke Shayle. -I don’t know, though. I think I like Clarke more than I respect him. -And then, of course, he hurts me a lot. Clarke’s my osteopath. He has -won five medals for swimming. John hasn’t any medals, but he doesn’t -need them. You sort of know that he could have all he wanted if he -wanted them.” - -“And you let your father have his own way with you?” - -“Of course, and not because he would punish me if I disobeyed him, -either. They say”--Jack drew up quaintly--“that John worships me. As -for me, I shouldn’t wish to offend him. We’re awfully chummy, my father -and I, although he’s very tall and strong and I----” Gulping, he -turned away. “See that wooden cradle in the corner? I’d never have it -in my rooms except that John was rocked in it when he was a baby. Seems -funny to think of John ever having been a baby, he’s so mannish now.” - -The Colonial antique which had distracted the little fellow’s thoughts -from himself, was the first of many interesting treasures he showed -her. Mrs. Cabot had called the child’s quarters “rooms,” rather than -“nursery,” and they were, indeed, furnished incongruously for his -years. Except for a few mechanical toys, the suite might have been -that of some sophisticated bachelor. The chamber that opened off the -living room was filled with heirloom mahogany, the bed a fine example -of pineapple four-poster upon which not only his father’s father, but -also his great-grandfather had slept. Oil portraits of the paternal -line hung the walls. Turkish rugs lay upon the polished floors. An old -corner clock ticked away the time for this last of the Cabots as it had -for seven generations of the name before him. He particularly liked -the clock, Jack said, because it was calm-faced--not too sad, not too -happy--just calm. - -To a large bowl of gold-fish twinkling lazily in the sunlight, he -invited her especial attention. They had been given him by Clarke -Shayle, he explained, to demonstrate the first principles of swimming. - -“Clarke’s going to make a swimmer of me,” he asserted, “after he gets -me well. Oh, you needn’t look so sorry for me! I’ve got good arms, -haven’t I? You watch the gold-fish. They haven’t any legs.” - -“Promise”--Dolores swallowed at the lump in her throat--“to give me one -of your medals as a souvenir some day?” - -From a downward glance at his poor body, he stared at her suspiciously. -Evidently deciding that she was not making sport of him, he conceded: -“Of course it may be a while yet. And we mayn’t be friends that long. -That’s Clarke coming now for my treatment. I know his step.” - -“Dr.” Shayle lacked the professional look. Although slightly above -medium height, he was heavy as he well could be without loss of the -athletic appearance for which Dolores had been prepared. He was young, -clean-shaved, redheaded, freckled. Next after his appearance of -strength, she noticed his cheerfulness. He had very clean teeth and -an engaging smile. Early in their interview, he laughed in a joyous, -lingering way, with a glance that coaxed her to share his amusement. -She noticed also in these first moments a yellowish fleck in the brown -iris of his right eye. It served to give him an oddly intent expression. - -At once after Jack’s staid ceremony of introduction, he declared -excitedly that he would not be “mauled” to-day--that he could not be -forced into a treatment. - -“Who wants to force you?” asked Shayle. “Do you think I enjoy wearing -myself all out? A hike will be better for you, anyhow, at the present -moment. Here, let me wind up that dog!” - -His suggestion developed into a lesson in the slithering walk which -evidently was the afflicted lad’s chief hope of getting along through -life. The toy, over whose possession Jack had bitten the French maid’s -wrist, was a mechanical dog whose four legs worked, when set going, -with something the movement which the osteopath was cultivating in his -patient. The dog set the pace across the room; the boy did his best to -follow. - -“If you’d hold your head straight, little chump, not so far to one -side, you’d be better balanced,” Shayle advised from his down-leaning, -critical inspection. - -“I won’t and I never will.” Jack stopped to glare back at his trainer. -“John always holds his head to one side and I guess he walks all right.” - -“Oh well, if John does! Like father like son--beautiful sentiment.” At -once the doctor passed the point. Giving up seemed to be his policy. -“That’s enough hiking for to-day, old scout. Just let me feel those -knee muscles. No, not a regular boy-handling on the bed. Just a touch -to see if they aren’t working better to-day.” - -During the operation into which Shayle had inveigled his patient, -Dolores observed that his hands, while freckled and rather thick, were -drawn into slender fingers, pointed at the tips, with nails neatly -manicured. - -“You’ve cheated--you’re hurting me like a real treatment!” shrieked -Jack and beat his practitioner in the face until able to wriggle out of -his grasp. - -Dr. Shayle changed the subject as promptly as he gave up his attempt. -“Have a heart, Mister Dempsey. Wait a minute--I want to say something. -What’s become of the Cabot courtesy? You haven’t asked Miss Trent to -take off her things.” - -“We were so busy getting acquainted!” Dolores, with a confidential -glance at the boy, lifted her hands to her hat. - -“Allow me to make up for friend pugilist’s oversight.” With that -coaxing laugh of his, Shayle arose to help with the Duvetyn coat. - -In the act, his hand touched the pulse at the side of her throat. With -the contact, a strange sensation quivered through her, disturbing, yet -somehow pleasant. Evidently he, too, had felt it. He looked straight -into her eyes a moment, his face suddenly serious. - -“_Ah!_” - -Oddly enough, that was all he said. - -“Madame has a headache, Dr. Shayle. She wishes you to attend her as -soon as you have finish’ with the--with Master Jacques.” - -The interruption came from Annette, the maid who had been bitten, now -serene of voice and immaculate in fresh cap and apron. - -“What, another?” - -Dolores heard the mutter which prefaced Shayle’s more formal -acknowledgment of the message. She was surprised at the headache and -told the doctor so. Mrs. Cabot had looked quite well on returning from -her ride. - -Although he made no comment, she was struck by his expression and the -fact that it was reflected in the thin face of the boy--an expression -hard to define, but certainly not sympathetic. - -After a luncheon served for Jack and herself in his sitting-room, the -boy was retired to his nap and she summoned to an interview with Mrs. -Morrison. She was not asked whether she would or would not stay. The -housekeeper seemed to have taken it for granted that she would. And -indeed, two realizations had settled the issue. Jack needed her and she -needed him. - -She was shown a pleasant room farther along the third-floor balcony -and asked about her luggage. Her wages would be the same as paid the -previous governess. Mrs. Cabot regretted a slight indisposition, but -sent word that, as Dr. Shayle approved her start with Master Jack, she -was to use her own judgment. - -The kindly housekeeper expressed a personal hope that she would be -happy and comfortable. She must come down to the ground-floor parlor -when lonely and must not fail to ask for anything she needed or wished. - -Before the young heir had awakened, Dolores returned to the outer -room of the suite. She took up a magazine, but did not feel like -reading--got no farther than a page of kennel advertisements. Her eyes -upon a circle which had been penciled around the picture of a pedigreed -Airedale, she gave up to her thoughts. - -Strange though it was, her present situation seemed natural. That she -should find herself in the home of the Cabots who, from among the great -cityfull had figured in both her previous engagements, impressed her -as nothing short of fatalistic. Blindfolded, she had faced in their -direction. Each of her stumbles had been a step toward the place made -ready for her. She had been prepared to appreciate what they had to -offer her; they what she could and would return. The third attempt to -earn her livelihood surely would prove the charm. Could it be possible -that only that morning she had set out, the end of her day a closed -book? This afternoon the book lay wide, its lines clearly typed. And -pleasant reading the future chapters looked, each day-page illumined -with the joy of doing for someone less fortunate than herself. - -Until he spoke, she did not know that Jack was staring at her from the -bedroom doorway. - -“You have a nicer nose than the last one. She left because I called her -‘Needle-nose Nannie’ to her face. She had the piercingest nose I ever -saw. I never asked my other governesses, but will you come with me on -my drive?” - -Dolores was glad to go, the more so that he had suggested it. Already -she longed that he should love her. There seemed safety in the love of -a child. - -In the open car from which he preferred to take his air when the -weather was fine, as he told her with his manner of a bored little -man of affairs, she scarcely could restrain the impulse to put her -arm around him. Appreciating, however, his oldishness, she contented -herself with finding his hand beneath the fur robe when a squirrel -excited them by dashing across the road in peril of their tires. - -They did not drive for long. Sight of several children running races on -the green brought from the cripple a crisp order of “Home, Herrick!” - -Dolores made no protest. She understood. But she held tight to the -gloved fingers beneath the robe. - -“I never take any chances of missing John,” was the boy’s manufactured -explanation. “He comes up to see me first thing after he gets home.” - -Back in his suite, the tedium of his shut-in life soon showed in -returning irritability. - -“I do get so tired of women, women--always women! I don’t like them any -more than they like me. Why can’t they get me a man governess?” And -after a scowling moment: “What games do you know?” - -Dolores did not know any. “Games” had been considered the least -necessary thing in her child life. Yet the moment was unpropitious -for admitting the lack. Urgently she applied to her imagination. A -smothered cheep from the towel-covered bird-cage brought inspiration. - -“Did you ever try,” she asked, “a game called ‘Turn-about’?” - -“No. How do you play it?” - -“Another name for it is ‘Fair-Play.’ Turn-about is fair-play, you know. -First one of us--you or I--has his way. Then, turn-about, the other has -his.” - -“Sounds like a queer game.” He considered a moment, as the -possibilities of the idea opened before him. “You can do anything you -like in your turn--all the naughty things you’ve wanted to do and -didn’t dare?” - -“All of them--that is, all you still wish to do.” - -“All right. First go!” A crafty look lit the gray eyes. Turning, he -shuffled across the room. “I’m going to do what your coming stopped -me from doing--break this dog. I hate--_hate_--HATE it! It is just a -stupid toy, but it goes faster than I can every time and it never hurts -at all.” - -Without a word of protest, Dolores watched him hammer the floor with -the device which was at once his ambition and his despair; allowed him -to wrench it to pieces, legs from body and head from neck. - -“My turn now,” she said. “I’m going to take the towel from around -Dick’s cage.” - -Sagacity was evidenced in the boy’s instant retort. “Then I’ll take my -next turn putting it back again.” - -“And keep the game at a standstill? I can repeat, remember, as often -as you,” Dolores warned him. Stepping down from the chair upon which -she had stood to let sunlight in upon the canary, now ruffling its -yellow plumage enjoyably, she seated herself and stayed his lifted -hand. “I want to tell you something, Jackie dear. Happiness is the most -attractive thing in the world and one of the hardest to have. Just -because your bird knows the secret of how to have it, even though shut -up in a smaller space than you, you are jealous. So long as you’re -jealous, you’ll never be happy. I’ve never been very happy either, but -I want to be and I’ve heard that happiness begets happiness. Maybe -if you and I would listen to Dick sing, we’d get the spirit of why he -sings. Maybe after a while we could be happy, too. What do you say?” - -“I say it’s no fun being happy.” - -Although he jerked his hand away and spoke defiantly, Dolores thought -she saw a gleam of interest in his eyes. - -“Of course, you can try if you want to,” he added. “I’ll take my next -turn spilling the gold-fish. There’ll be plenty of time for Clarke to -get me some more before I’m strong enough to learn to swim.” - -Heartsick, Dolores watched him stagger toward the bathroom with the -heavy glass bowl. She realized that, in steadying himself inside, he -was waiting for her to object. But she uttered no word of reproach as -he dumped the gleaming inmates and their small sea upon the tiling. -When she heard him chuckling over their squirms, she followed him. - -“My turn!” She took the bowl from him, filled it with fresh water -and replaced within it the emptied moss and stones. Upon her knees -on the folded bath-rug, she invited his assistance in a way most -matter-of-fact “We must get them in quickly or they’ll die. Careful how -you scoop them up--their fins are very delicate. See how glad they are -to be back in the water again and how gracefully they swim!” - -The boy was actually helping her when the opening of the hall door -interrupted. He steadied himself to his feet, then slithered into the -sitting-room. Still bent to her life-saving task, Dolores heard the -exchange without and saw, over-shoulder, the man-to-man hand-shake of -father and son. - -“Hello, John Cabot!” - -“Jack Cabot, hello!” - -“I broke my dog, but you know the reason, John. I’d not mind so much if -a live one beat me. Aren’t you ever going to get me a real dog?” - -“Your apology is accepted, Jack. But how could I know you’d be good to -a live dog if you had one? He would have to be considered as well as -you. They tell me you break all your toys. I’d hate to see the spirit -of a good dog broken. How can I be sure----” - -“But I tell you I _would_ be good to him. Don’t I keep my word to you, -John? I’d never have spilled the fishes except that I had given in to -’Lores about Dick. Oh, you don’t know about ’Lores yet!” - -The boy it was who brought them again face to face. Dolores had -reëntered the living-room. John Cabot stopped beside the center -table--stopped and looked across at her. Just what his look -meant--superstition, disapproval, fear--she could not be sure. Her -heart beat uncomfortably while she waited for him to speak. - -“I was told down-stairs that a new governess had come,” he said, after -what seemed a long time. “I didn’t understand that it was you.” - -“And I didn’t understand that the position was offered by you,” she -replied. “If you are displeased, Mr. Cabot, I will give up--Jack.” - -“But I won’t give _her_ up, John, even if she is a woman-governess. She -knows games that I never heard about. If you’ll just get me an Airedale -now----” - -The child’s demands broke the strain of the moment. John Cabot offered -his hand. The faint smile of his reassurance disappeared from his lips -when he read on the tiling the continuation of Jack’s story of the -gold-fish. Dolores studied him. Although a shadow lowered over his -eyes at this evidence of the evil temper of his son, he gave her an -impression of great kindness and great suppression. He looked like what -he really was--which, she had noticed, most men do not. - -“I am afraid, my boy, that I could not trust a live dog to you,” he -said. - -He was restoring the last of the stranded aquatics to comfort within -the bowl when a lilting laugh surprised the three. Mrs. Cabot, -evidently recovered from her headache, was watching them. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -John Cabot seldom spoke with the new governess, as she took to -absenting herself during the afternoon hour which he spent with his -son. None the less she learned much about him and, through the opinion -of others, came to hold him in high regard. - -Mrs. Morrison, daughter of the distinguished-looking old butler, -Bradish, had been with the Cabot family practically her lifetime and -proved an enthusiastic informant at the tea-time chats to which she -frequently invited the girl. She took a personal pride in her employer -and his career. - -Mr. Cabot, she boasted, was one of the few “real” New Yorkers. His -family had lived in Manhattan since the sixteen-fifties. A red brick -house in Whitehall Street, near the Battery, had been the birthplace -of two generations of his grandfathers. There the Cabots had lived in -the days when Castle Garden was the home of Grand Opera and Jennie -Lind its Galli-Curci. The old house still stood, although its quondam -drawing-room, where once the fair and gallant had stepped the minuet, -now staged nothing more romantic than haggles over the price of -shipping stores. - -The comfortable fortune awaiting the present head of the house on his -graduation from Princeton, he had increased to great wealth through -an international banking organization built up largely through his -efforts. Particularly proud was the housekeeper over the fact that not -only the Cabot dollars but the master himself had worked unceasingly -to “win the war,” that not only his own Government, but also those of -Britain and France had heaped honors upon him. In the underwriting of -the war loans of the Allies and in the direction of American Liberty -Bond flotations the services he had rendered without financial gain -were declared inestimable. For a time, indeed, the Cabot Bank--a -classic structure on Broad Street within a stone’s throw of the -homestead--had been the acknowledged center of war finance for half the -world. - -By his employees--also according to Morrison--the banker was adored -for his democratic manner; was respected for the unfailing honesty of -his business code; was, at the same time, served with the diligence of -fear. In his home, his every gesture was anticipated that it might be -the more quickly obeyed. None, not even the beautiful madame, would -have dared question any of the direct wishes he so seldom expressed. - -To his only son John Cabot was a fascinating mystery. - -“You know, John’s a queer man,” the boy confided to Dolores, with his -elderly faculty for analysis. “He’s as quiet and kind as anybody could -be and yet he keeps everyone scared of him. Morrison says it’s because -he is ‘just.’ What is there about justice, ’Lores, that everybody’s so -scared of?” - -On another occasion: “One thing I like about John, is the interest he -can take in little things. Why, he plays my Christmas games better than -I do, and the way he can keep clocks going! Sometimes when he stays -home evenings, he brings almost a dozen in here and sits on the floor -and gets them all ticking at once. That clock of my great-grandfather -Cabot’s is his pet. All the jewelers said the old works would have -to be replaced. But John says he’s going to keep it going through my -lifetime at least. He’s funny that way. He never thinks of dying. -Somehow, I don’t think anybody could make him die until he got ready.” - -Once the child-man had opened up a hurt in his confidence: “I heard -my mother tell John one day that my grandmother--his own mother, you -know--might have called him ‘Jack,’ but she felt sure that nobody else -had. She said he was the uncompromising kind of man that everybody just -naturally called ‘John.’ Sometimes my mother talks as if she did not -think much of John, any more than she does of me. That’s why I can’t -think much of her. Just what kind is an uncompromising man, ’Lores?” - -Even by madame herself were the peculiarities of the master of the -great house discussed with the latest comer. Dolores, yielding to -the unexpected fancy which Catherine seemed to have taken to her and -looking on her with almost worshipful eyes in her sacred capacity of -motherhood, welcomed every opportunity of showing her gratitude. One -stormy afternoon, when she had been summoned to m’lady’s quarters on -the second floor, the trend of the wife’s conversation became an urge -that the governess think well of her husband. - -Fragrant from her bath, Catherine was sitting before a pier glass in -her dressing room leisurely and, it would seem regretfully, covering -her exquisite body with undergarments of rather sleazy texture. The -fresh-opened box of bon-bons which stood on a nearby tabourette she -urged upon Dolores with her comments. - -“John Cabot’s character is an open book--_in cipher_,” she declared. “I -have noticed, my dear, that you appear to be just a bit in awe of him. -It seems too bad when you will be thrown so much together over Jack. -Perhaps if I give you the key to him you will feel more comfortable in -his presence. He is not nearly so cold or stern as he acts. Really, he -used to be quite ardent before---- Well, you know, before we got to -know each other so thoroughly. I used to think him the strongest man -I’d ever met.” - -Dolores resented the insinuation. “But isn’t he still stronger, now -that he has learned to control his feelings? And perhaps he wouldn’t -wish people to be given what you call the key to him.” - -But Catherine was not listening, as told by the opera air she hummed. -She had become intent over an open drawerful of lingerie, some pieces -simple, some elaborate as the sweat-shop set bought that day at Seff’s. -With the selection of a rather plain Philippine linen for that day’s -wear, her interest returned to the ever engrossing subject of herself. - -“Queer, isn’t it, how one’s early habits will cling? Have you heard -that I wasn’t always rich? I haven’t a dollar except what Mr. Cabot has -settled on me. My father had plenty to start with, but he squandered -it all on ‘old masters’ that turned out to be neither masters nor old. -I try to forget the humiliations of those days, but every now and then -am reminded by little things--like, for instance, this.” - -At the puzzled look with which Dolores’ eyes met the emergence of her -own from the neck scallops of the sheer envelope, she expanded: - -“I never wear my best clothes on a stormy day. Isn’t that too funny, -when I don’t need to think of the weather? I’m interested in noting -my own characteristics quite as much as I would be those of another -person. Dr. Shayle says that I have the introspective faculty to a -marked degree. I appreciate the compliment from him.” - -“He seems to see,” the girl remarked, “so much more than is on the -surface.” - -By way of the glass, Catherine smiled at her, the short upper lip which -was a piquant flaw in otherwise perfect features lifting over her -gleaming, mouselike teeth. - -“Oh, Dr. Shayle has remarkable powers! I discovered him, you know. No -wonder he admires me and feels--well----” - -For once Dolores interrupted. She did not wish to be told first-hand -of the likable young osteopath’s devotion, concerning which she had -heard considerable gossip from the servants. She felt that it would not -be just loyal to Dr. Shayle. Although fearful for her temerity, she -changed the subject. - -“That day you engaged me, the Marquis d’Elie spoke of other needs of -your household in which I might help. You have been very kind to me and -I want to do all I can in return. Won’t you tell me what they are--the -other needs?” - -Relieved that her beautiful employer showed no resentment, she did not -try to analyze the confused look turned into the mirror. - -“The need the marquis meant----” Catherine spoke readily enough after -the moment’s pause--“is mine for someone congenial to talk with in this -great barn of a house--someone refined, you know, with a mind more the -quality of my own. That’s all, really, just someone to lift the heavy -moments. D’Elie feels a deep sympathy for me.” - -So pathetic did she sound and look that Dolores, too, felt sympathetic. -That the enviable Mrs. Cabot might have a secret sorrow had not -occurred to her. This time she did not check the tendency toward -confidence; waited rather in silence, lest she seem inquisitive, for -whatsoever might be entrusted to her. But before Catherine could -continue, someone entered the boudoir that opened off the dressing -room. It was the Marquis d’Elie. - -That was the early afternoon when he, like the oft-mentioned “angel” of -the old saw, startled them both by an unannounced appearance. Dolores -was sitting out of his line of vision, but she could see him plainly -in the pier glass. She rose, outraged at the Frenchman’s presumption -with the wife of John Cabot; turned toward Catherine; waited for her to -reprimand him as he deserved. - -Catherine, who had been in the act of tying a ribbon at her breast, -stiffened as if turned to the marble she looked and stared into the -glass at the reflection of the smiling alien. A hurried glance she -spared for the confections of silk crepe and lace in the open drawer, -then bit her lip. When at last she spoke, her voice was one of utter -exasperation. - -“And me in a cotton chemise!” - -“But lovely--ah--as a lily of _la belle France_!” the Marquis enthused. -“I have slip’ up for that small talk of confidence about the amount of -the dot, _mon ange_. I feel distress that you must sue for so much. But -the responsibility is on me to assure that my queen have those comfort -to which----” - -“You certainly slipped up!” Sharply Catherine cut into the expression -of his “responsibility.” Hers seemed to be for Dolores and the dressing -robe which she had worn from her bath. This she donned before going -into the boudoir. “You shouldn’t have come unannounced, Henri. Never do -such a thing again. How fortunate it is that Miss Trent happened to be -with me. You remember meeting Jack’s new governess?” - -His assurance was remarkable. Low he bowed before Dolores when, in -response to Catherine’s appeal, she followed. - -“And how is mademoiselle enabled to do with the fiend-_enfant_?” he -enquired affably. - -Dolores strove to control her contempt for him. She replied that she -found Jack no fiend, but a most lovable child. He must be awakening -from his nap about now. Would Mrs. Cabot excuse her? - -“First, my dear, won’t you ring for Annette?” Catherine made proviso. - -“And how,” the marquis persisted in the wait, “is the so-famed siren -enabled to do with Meester Cabot?” - -Grateful for the support of madame’s frown, Dolores answered, steadily -as she might: “So far Mr. Cabot has made no complaint of my methods -with his son.” - -“She has done wonderfully--_with Jack_.” Catherine smiled at Dolores -her innocent smile. “I, for one, am most grateful to Miss Trent, even -if John hasn’t shown his appreciation.” - -“Perhaps he has not--_as yet_--have the opportunity.” The foreigner, -too, contributed an encouraging beam. - -“Just what I’ve been telling her!” Catherine approved. “Miss Trent is -so very self-effacing that I fear John thinks----” - -Just which of the wife’s fancies was about to be attributed to the -great brain of John Cabot, Dolores never knew. She felt a sudden and -vehement disinclination to hear his possible thoughts discussed before -such an audience. She crossed to the gallery door. - -“I hear Annette coming. I--I’d like to go, Mrs. Cabot. Jack may be -looking for me.” - -She did not wait for the elevator, but hurried up the wide marble steps -that led from gallery to gallery to the top of the house. Fast as she -took them, however, distressing questions pursued her. - -What was she to think--how conduct herself? - -Looking into Jack’s living-room, she saw that the door into his bedroom -still was closed. The calm-faced clock announced that it was not really -time for him to have awakened. As she went toward her own chamber to -wait, she heard the click of the elevator letting someone off at the -third gallery, but did not glance up to see who it was. She wished to -be alone--to think. - -Once her own door was closed, however, she shrank from thinking. Rather -than force herself to any immediate conclusion regarding the surprising -developments of the last several minutes, she allowed her mind to rest, -as it were, upon the thought of young Jack. - -During the days which had accumulated into weeks since her entry into -the Cabot home, her influence upon the boy had continued to be poured -into the mold of their first hour. The household agreed that none of -the many who had undertaken him had approached her success. Rather than -the problem which he was said to have been to earlier governesses, he -had become a revelation to her. - -Although they continued to play “Turn-About” at times, she had ceased -to rely upon games for the establishment of understanding between them. -So long as Jack did what he knew to be right and fair, he and she might -share enjoyment, even happiness. When he ceased, her disappointment in -him spoiled their day. They consulted upon every item of their daily -program subject to change. From play to text-books had been a gradual -but sure transition. What at first had caused ruction, became a medium -of pleasant companionship. Lessons learned under a “pal” instead of a -task-mistress didn’t seem like lessons at all. - -Dolores’ service was but what she would have given unrequited to the -stunted human plant. Love had bloomed as her reward. The lad’s devotion -to her had become a by-word in the house. - -Only last evening, when she had slipped into his room to tell him -good-night after the maid had left, he had overcome his prejudice -against any show of affection sufficiently to lift his over-long arms -about her neck. - -“’Lores,” he had whispered half-ashamedly, “I have made up a nice name -for you. I don’t wish to tell even you what it is. I’m afraid you’d -make fun of it. It is just a little name for you that I save to think -about when I’m trying to go to sleep.” - -With the poignant memory, the girl felt comforted. Life, which hitherto -had seemed indifferent when not actually cruel toward her, had grown -kind. Surely no malice of Jade Fate could be behind the gift of a -child’s adoration. - -And in what luxury did she live--she, whose sole capital so recently -had been a ripening nectarine! No opportunity was given her to think of -her needs. They were fore-attended. Beside her own beautiful room, the -young heir’s kingdom was shared with her. And more than her needs were -remembered. Mrs. Cabot’s gratitude and affection took the practical -form of tickets to theater and opera matinees, of the free use of -Jack’s car, and twice of invitations downstairs to dine _en famille_. -In a partial expenditure of her salary, she had acquired, by way of -being more worthy her surroundings, some unpretentious, but pretty -clothes. The black worn for Trevor Trent she had laid away for the -gayer colors liked by Jack, just as she was trying to lay away sorrow -for good cheer. - -To-day, where was that good cheer? - -Here she had shut herself in her room in a panic of foreboding. Was she -so used to trouble that she would attract by expecting it? Despite the -general kindness toward her, she felt afraid. - -There was Dr. Clarke Shayle. At first his show of interest in her had -been confined to the period of Jack’s daily treatment, when he would -chat with the two of them in the set phrases to which he was given, -leaving an impression of impartial friendliness. But a few days before -he had returned during the boy’s nap hour to add a detail to his -instructions. Even Jack had pierced the pretense and taken occasion, -through some instinct or reason over which he grew quite sullen, to -acquaint his mother with the fact. - -The annoyance shown by Mrs. Cabot brought memory back to the more -recent annoyance of this early afternoon. What had given the Marquis -d’Elie the right of way to madame’s boudoir? She decided to force the -question from her mind as beyond her scope. General hints about the -impecunious foreigner had been emphasized by Annette after the style of -the French paper-backs which formed her ideas of high-life lived low. -Vicariously the maid had thrilled over d’Elie’s infatuation for her -beautiful mistress; deplored the fact that m’lady, being, alas, already -wedded, might not acquire the right to the proud title of Marquise -of France; grieved over the misfortune that her heroine, having no -personal fortune, might not with financial safety free herself. Oh, not -that madame had any more real feeling for her suitor than for her own -husband! Her heart’s love, as Annette had reason to know, was given to -another. That complication, however, was according to form, as written -in French originals. - -All this was peace-poison, Dolores decided, and for such there was no -antidote. One thing only must she remember. “M’lady” was John Cabot’s -wife. The fact stared from her dressing-table mirror each time, as now, -she smoothed her hair and compared its blackness with Catherine’s glory -of fine silk and pale gold. Of it she was reminded each time her heart -expanded over lonely Jack or her eyes caught the gleam of the limp -diamond-and-platinum circlet which was his mother’s latest acquired and -much admired “wedding” ring. - -She herself had been judged unjustly by appearances. She must not--she -would not judge. Married women, she had been told, outgrew the -prudishness which mothers taught their daughters. And titled foreigners -were said to be more careless of conventions than the great, clean -men of America. Every melioration she must consider. Perhaps even the -much-discussed pair’s recent suggestions to her, at which she had felt -such offense, had been conceived as they were worded, in kindness. -Catherine was the wife of the king of the Cabots and the mother of -Prince Jack. The queen-mother could do no wrong. - -Her decision reached, Dolores realized an unwonted physical fatigue. -She lay down on the bed for a moment that she might take a fresh face -and mind to Jack. A glance at the ivory clock on her bedside table told -her that it was fifteen minutes to three. She closed her eyes with the -intention of allowing herself the quarter hour. For several minutes she -continued in full consciousness of the trustful thoughts upon which she -had decided as a policy. Then soon, although daytime napping was not -her habit, she fell into a doze. - -Her eyes flashed open before she was fairly awake, as if at a call. -For a moment she gave up to an exquisite sensation which had come to -her. She felt relaxed, flushed, very much at peace. In a sort of dream, -someone with strong arms who cared for her had rocked her as she often -had longed to rock Jack. Repeatedly a tender, infusing voice had said -to her: “Rest, little girl.... Everything’s all right.... Rest.... -Rest.” - -And she had rested. How long? A glance at the clock brought her to her -feet. It was fifteen minutes after three! - -Near the head of the stairway, beneath a boxed catalpa tree, stood a -decorative carved stone seat. Upon it sat Dr. Clarke Shayle. As, with -a nod, Dolores was about to hurry past him and into Jack’s room, he -caught her hand and drew her to a seat beside him. - -“You can spare a moment for the human headache powder,” he said. “Tell -me, how did you like it?” - -“_It?_” She stared at him. - -“The powder. But never mind. You don’t need to answer. You certainly -look some better at the present moment than when you ran away from me -into your room.” - -“You can’t mean that--that you----” - -The yellowish fleck in his eye twinkled, although his face was -unusually serious as he glanced down at the watch which, oddly enough, -lay face up in his palm. - -“At eight minutes of three I volunteered a first-aid treatment. I -coddled you mentally the way I’d like to do really. You are an easy -subject, you poor, scared little chump. But it’s a hard life waiting -on a stone bench. At fifteen after three I was selfish enough to give -you the wake-up ring. Come, how _did_ you like it?” - -“I--I do feel refreshed. What is it about you--what is it?” - -“I’ve wanted to explain that and a lot of things to you for days, but -you’ll never give me an opportunity. I want to explain myself to you -before someone does it for me--to tell you to look out for me. I am -what you might consider a ‘dangerous’ man. Oh, it’s not inherited--it’s -a gift.” - -This rueful repetition of one of the several set phrases with which he -punctuated his most serious utterances was accompanied by the quick, -cheerful laugh which was his greatest charm. Then the laugh’s smile -stiffened into an expression of utter misery. - -So shocked was Dolores that she forgot her hurry to go. - -He turned from the sight of her sympathy; forced himself to continue. -“I am not an honest osteopath, Miss Trent. My success is founded on the -fact that I am magnetic. You felt that the first day you met me. You -remember? See how strangely I can make you feel with a touch.” - -“Yes, I remember. Oh, don’t--please don’t do that again!” - -Even in freeing her wrist from the slim pulsant fingers which had -clasped it, she realized that her sensations justified his boast. -Fearing his touch, she liked it. - -“Never mind, I won’t. I don’t want to attract you that way. You can -trust me. I won’t touch you again--that is, not until you wish me to. -Try to get what I’m telling you. It may kill me with you, but there’s -no other way than to make a clean breast of it. I’ve built up my -practice on nothing more or less than animal magnetism. Excites through -the touch system. Gives sensations instead of curing them. Lord help -me, she doesn’t see when I tell her how low I am!” - -He paused as if in hope of help from her. But Dolores could not speak. -She was trying to believe that she had misunderstood. - -“Lately I find that I’m getting psychic control,” he continued. “A nice -little lot of harm I could do in the world if I wanted to.” His voice -was husky. In the moment before he dropped his face into his hands his -clean smile showed again. “But I don’t want to. I hate this life. I -hate my success. I hate being called in the profession ‘The Ladies’ -Pet.’ Did you know I was called ‘The Ladies’ Pet’?” - -“I know,” said Dolores, “that Mrs. Cabot thinks you are a remarkable -man.” - -“_She_ should. She made me what I am to-day and to-morrow--handed me -over to her social set. She’s satisfied, if I’m not. She knows and I -know that she can unmake me just as easily.” - -“Why should she unmake you? She seems to take a pride in you and in -your admiration for her.” - -“My _what_?” - -“Only this afternoon, Dr. Shayle, she was telling me what you had said -about her powers of introspection and concentration.” - -“Her powers of---- You little chump!” He glanced toward the stairway; -controlled his incipient laugh; added guardedly: “She hasn’t enough -concentration to write a postal card.” - -“Then why do you flatter her so?” - -“Ladies’ pets are trained to meet the demands for flattery of their -petters. Catherine has a certain surface shrewdness, yes. But you can’t -‘reach’ her. Don’t worry about her. Worry about me, Dolores. Tut, don’t -scold me! You wouldn’t if you knew how long I’ve wanted to call you -Dolores to your face. I am doing what is awfully hard for me, not to -have you point out my weaknesses, but in the hope that you’ll encourage -me to----” - -With a smothered imprecation, he stopped. From his slumped position he -had seen before Dolores that Mrs. Cabot was ascending the stairs. At -the top of the climb she stopped and saw them. She was dressed in a -negligee of yellow satin and lace and looked exceedingly angry. - -“I thought I heard voices and wondered if this could be possible.” Her -upper lip whitened over the mouse teeth as she directly addressed Dr. -Shayle. “Don’t you know that I am waiting for my treatment?” - -The color of the young man’s hair blended into his forehead and cheeks. -He got to his feet. - -“Miss Trent and I have had quite a talk.” Although obviously nervous, -he forced his coaxing smile. “We’ve discussed most of the important -questions of the day. Not that we’ve got anything settled at the -present moment. But we’ve exercised our minds and so have made -progress, even if the world----” - -“If you _only_ wouldn’t say ‘at the present moment’!” Catherine snapped. - -With not a second glance at the governess, but a peremptory gesture to -her physician, she turned back to the stairs. - -Shayle, his athletic shoulders squaring, followed her. - -“You needn’t take it out on me because I’m not a clever talker,” -Dolores heard him say to Catherine as, his hand at her elbow, he -assisted her in the descent “My stupidity ain’t inherited. It’s a gift.” - -At a sound Dolores turned to see Jack looking on from his door. His -eyes were wide and grave--in expression much like his father’s. His -head slanted exactly as the elder John held his. With his laboriously -acquired, makeshift walk, he crossed the balcony to a stop before her. - -“Something said to me----” he began; paused to think; continued: “I -guess I mean that myself said to myself I’d best come out and ’tend to -you. Maybe I’m foolish to worry about you,’Lores, and yet----” - -“And yet,” she supplied, serious as he, “maybe you’re not. Look after -me, Jack. I need you to, for you are my safest friend.” - -She took comfort in his elderly assurances; tried to throw off the -prescience that weighed on her at thought of Catherine’s outraged look. -But she was afraid. - -Look high, look low, she was afraid. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -As proved by developments of the next day, Dolores need not have feared -that Mrs. Cabot would blame her for the interest of the uniquely -attractive young osteopath. Evidently she was of too sweet a nature -for that. During the after-luncheon respite, when the girl sat reading -in her room to avoid a possible repetition of yesterday’s telepathic -tête-à-tête, madame sought her in an exceptionally gracious mood. She -was followed by her maid, who bore a long black-and-white striped box. - -“Lay it on the bed, Annette.” - -Having dismissed the reluctant Frenchwoman, she turned to Dolores with -a manner of affectionate anticipation. - -“I saw it yesterday at Yungman’s _revue_,” she announced. “As it stayed -on my imagination over night, I sent Annette this morning to buy it.” - -“It?” Dolores tried to feel on faith something of Mrs. Cabot’s -pleasurable excitement. - -“It’s from _Angèle_, the colors copied from an overcast sunset, mostly -gray, with just a suggestion through the mists of lavender and rose. -And it’s built of the clingingest stuff. I _hope_ you’ll like it.” - -“I am sure I shall. All your things are beautiful.” - -Dolores hovered over the tissue wrappings with the true girl’s interest. - -“Oh!” she exclaimed in a voice soft as the fabric. - -“Oh!”--again, as Catherine lifted an evening gown on its satin-padded -hanger and suspended it from the electrolier. The most stupid cynic -could not have doubted the governess’ worshipful gaze, and madame, -while in many respects a cynic, was far from stupid. - -“The lines of the manikin who wore it,” Catherine added, “didn’t -compare with yours.” - -And what had her “lines” to do with such a gown? Dolores looked the -question. - -“You are built for _décolleté_, my dear. The Marquis d’Elie remarked -it only yesterday, after you’d sailed so gracefully from my rooms. Oh, -you needn’t scorn a compliment from him! He’s a bit shy on discretion -according to American standards, but he has studied women as a fine -art. What he said about your possibilities made me remember this model. -Of course I shouldn’t have considered it for myself.” - -“The dress, Mrs. Cabot, is for----” - -“For you, silly. You can see at a glance that my coloring kills it.” -Catherine reassured herself of the fact in the mirror. “With your -duo-tones--ebony hair and alabaster hide---- The dress is a little -token of appreciation from Papa-John and Mamma-me over your success -with our son. It is just a fine _Angèle_ feather for our household -angel.” - -“_Dear_ Mrs. Cabot!” - -Dolores’ exclamation was the more emotional for the doubts which she -had felt over her benefactress’ sincerity toward herself. Lest she -reveal by word or look the self-recriminations that filled her mind, -she returned to the gift; touched its lax, silken folds; pressed to one -cheek a wisp of its subtly tinted tulle. - -“My first evening dress,” she murmured with a fervor which showed that -admiration was fast deepening into possessive love. “Even though I -haven’t any present need of it----” - -“But you have. You’ll need it to-night.” Catherine spoke positively. -“Mr. Cabot has telephoned Bradish that an old friend of the family is -to dine with us and I want you to make a fourth at table. Rufus Holt is -a university pal of John’s and said to be the ablest divorce lawyer in -New York. He never loses a case, perhaps because he can’t be bribed to -take the side of the person in the wrong. What’s more, my dear, he’s a -bachelor.” - -“I’d enjoy meeting him, I’m sure, and you’re very kind to ask me down, -but you see----” - -“No, I don’t.” Catherine subtracted the half of her attention from the -mirror and gave the whole to Dolores. “I don’t see--and won’t--any -reason in the world why you shouldn’t be more a member of this family. -We are all very fond of you and we know that you are superior to the -position you occupy. Life has been against you, that’s all. But I am -for you. Haven’t you realized that fact yet?” - -“I do appreciate your kindness--all the kindness which has been shown -me in your house, Mrs. Cabot.” - -“Then show your appreciation my way. Don’t spoil my pleasure by looking -suspiciously on every decent deed I try to do. You act, positively, as -if you thought I was jealous of your looks. Why, you make a wonderful -foil for me! Several have spoken of it. Even Dr. Shayle who, being -redheaded himself, has a natural preference for brunettes, agreed with -me yesterday that you and I are as different as two women could be. Do -you know----” - -Catherine hesitated, as if from modesty. When she continued it was with -that air of saying something especially thoughtful and original with -which she now and then substantiated her claim to “brains.” - -“Of course everybody has some favorite type of feminine beauty. This -man admires a woman in whom his best friend can’t see any charm. A -third appreciates another whose good looks neither of the first two -will admit. And so on. But about myself---- It is a strange thing that -when I was a young girl, every artist who came to my father’s house to -examine those alleged ‘old masters’ I was telling you about used to beg -to paint me. I remember one of them explaining it by the theory that -a golden blond is humanized sunshine--and that sunshine is something -craved by everyone. Perhaps it sounds vain for me to repeat, but they -were agreed that my type was the only one universally admired.” - -Far from thinking her vain, Dolores almost envied her the pleasure she -could take in her own looks. People generally spoke of “the beautiful -Mrs. Cabot,” perhaps for just that reason--that people generally -enjoyed sunshine. - -“And now that I am trying to shed some few beams your way, you spoil -the spirit of the thing right at the start. You might think of others -than yourself.” - -That the reproach had effect on Dolores showed in the startled question -of the purple-black eyes. Catherine proceeded to reply: - -“We’re not so happy in this shell of a home but that we might be -happier. I am not speaking of myself so much as--as my husband. He -needs cheering up and I, somehow, have lost the power to cheer him. -I’ve thought that perhaps you could help. Despite his taciturnity, -he likes you for what you have done for Jack. If you wouldn’t be so -shy with him, would just talk to him naturally, study him and try to -please him, you know, you would be accomplishing--well, more than you -possibly can realize. I’d be in your debt, not you in mine. You’ve -never received anything approaching an order since you came to us, have -you? And, Heaven knows, I don’t wish you to consider anything I suggest -in that light. Only I _should_ like you to join us at dinner to-night.” - - * * * * * - -Rufus Holt was dapper in stature, but of an expansive personality. -Although crinkled around the eyes and slightly bald, he had the -spontaneity of eternal youth. From first glance, he directed toward -Dolores a sort of friendly homage. - -“I like the way you acknowledge an introduction,” he confided during -their first five minutes. “The exaggerated delight with which most -everybody takes most everybody else for granted is absurd, isn’t -it? Without a word, Miss Trent, you’ve done a rather remarkable -thing--given a lawyer a brand-new thought.” - -Dolores was pleased that he so quickly found something about her to -like. She expanded under his persiflage. - -“I never learned ‘manners’ in any school,” she deprecated, “but I’ve -tried to teach myself by behaving like the people I admire.” - -“Well, give up! I don’t think you could act the least bit like anybody -else if you tried, any more than----” The mirth lines around Holt’s -eyes uncrinkled as, silently, he appreciated her in the mist-gray -gown. “A dove just couldn’t waddle like a goose,” he finished. “Don’t -let anybody change your first bow. It is perfect--no undue cordiality -about it, any more than undue _hauteur_. You do it gravely, simply, -hopefully. Just now you gave me one quick, enquiring glance to see -whether you were glad to meet me, before you committed yourself by -saying so. I’ll take a bet you don’t know my name.” - -Dolores looked embarrassed. “That wouldn’t be a fair bet. You see, Mrs. -Cabot told me beforehand.” - -“Honest, too! What are your faults?” He laughed. - -Catherine returned to them from an aside with Bradish. If the governess -looked a mauve-and-rose-breasted dove to the facile-tongued attorney, -madame was a bird of Paradise in her topaz velvet and high-massed, -glinting, silver-gold hair. And her evening manner matched the -brilliancy of her attire. - -“Latest reports from the front are that John will be down--well, when -John is down,” she announced. “Things never happen in this house, even -food, until John is down.” - -“It is gossip on the Street that some bricks of his Wall have caved -in,” Holt offered. “He never in his life kept a woman waiting unless -obliged to. You see, Miss Trent, we men who know John Cabot like to -brag about him. We consider him the best example extant of the fairness -of the unfair sex.” - -“Oh, John’s a hero, no doubt of that!” Catherine’s out-flung glittering -hands illustrated her somewhat contemptuous attitude toward most things -which others approved, her husband included. “Heroes are all right -when one is young and unsophisticated, but they do seem stereotyped -to a grown-up. Don’t you think so? You always know exactly what they -are going to do. The villains, now, are more interesting. There’s -some excitement in learning the worst about them--always a chance for -something unexpected. They may even reform. _You_ ought to agree with -me, Rufus.” - -“I might,” Holt returned, “but for certain suspicions as to which class -you are consigning me. In all my comradeship with John I never felt -sure of anything connected with what he was going to do except that it -would be the square thing when done.” - -The small controversy was closed by the appearance of its subject. -As he stood looking in on them from the doorway--the master of the -house--he was photographed on Dolores’ memory. Clean-cut against the -vista of the dim-lit foyer in his evening black and white, his hands -depending stiffly, his head side-set, he suggested controlled power. - -From his first surprised glance at herself, she appreciated that he -had been unprepared for the presence of the governess. But his wife’s -expectant eyes also were upon her. - -Licensed by the fact that she had not seen him in a couple of days, -Dolores offered him her hand in greeting and looked up into his face -when he stooped to touch for the briefest of moments her finger-tips. -Yesterday she would have veiled her admiration. To-night she had a -prescribed part to play. She could not help regretting the overture, -however, when she saw his smile recede; realized that he had turned, -without a word, away from her. A pressure hurt her throat. But she -cheered at Catherine’s encouraging nod. Remembering those in-caving -bricks of his down-town “Wall,” she forgave the forbidding attitude of -one said to be so just. - -When dinner was announced, she obeyed Catherine’s signal that she take -the arm of the host. On their stroll through the great hall toward the -dining-room, she found occasion to thank him for the latest Cabot gift. - -“The dress--that I gave you?” His tone was mildly exclamatory. - -“You and Mrs. Cabot.” - -“So I gave you that dress?” he asked more easily. “Of course we _are_ -getting on toward Christmas. Then I am prepared for little surprises -like this--have to go around, you know, asking everybody what I gave -them. I wonder _why_--the dress?” - -She tried not to show how disconcerted she felt. “Mrs. Cabot said it -was because I get along so well with Jack, although that’s nothing to -reward me so beautifully for. Getting on with Jack is its own reward.” - -“To be sure,” he murmured, as though his memory had been jogged. “To be -sure,” he repeated, his eyes upon the velvet V of his wife’s back. - -“No matter why you made the gift, Mr. Cabot, it is an event in my life. -To-night is the first time I’ve ever been in evening dress.” - -At last he looked down at her and interestedly. - -Dolores felt both pleased and abashed. Never, she realized, had she -worn anything so becoming as this gown. Its delicate gray increased, -rather than shamed the pallor and texture of her skin. Its rose seemed -dimly to reflect the red of her lips, its mauve the deep purple of her -eyes. Her hair, done low on her neck to hide as much as possible of the -gleaming flesh which had not before been exposed to the eyes of man, -made an oval, ebony frame for her face. - -“Never having been a girl myself, I don’t suppose I realize just what -the first one means: Really, I didn’t suppose I had such good taste.” -With which ambiguous comment he withdrew both eyes and interest. -Evidently the subject of herself was dismissed. - -Despite the lessons of her past, Dolores felt disappointed. The Rev. -Alexander Willard had looked at her often and long. Seff had looked -at her and looked again. As she went about the city, strangers filled -her with uneasiness by their stares. She supposed she should be glad -that one man was superior to the attraction of looks which she had been -forced to conclude were unusual. She should be glad, yes. And yet, she -caught herself wishing that this man, on this occasion---- - -Through that never-to-be-forgotten dinner--the first formal one of -her life--she made effort to adapt herself as a unit of the quartette -and to attend Mrs. Cabot’s converse with something the responsiveness -of Rufus Holt. Her awe of Bradish and the second butler she conquered -enough to sample the dishes passed. She became sufficiently accustomed -to the candle-light to appreciate this and that detail--the drawn-work -dinner cloth, the Sheffield service, the gleam of a fountain playing -Nature’s music in the conservatory beyond. She commented on the match -of the fulvid, velvety orchids that formed the centerpiece with their -hostess’ gown. With the rest she sipped of a vintage recommended by -their host as from the fore-stocked Cabot cellar. - -“You’ll go far these dry days and drink--well, perhaps too much, to -find better Burgundy than this,” he said. “It is neither too thick nor -too thin; neither sweet nor sour; smooth and gentle, yet not heady. And -the color---- Hasn’t it the rich red of dreams come true?” - -“Speaking of color, John,” the attorney suggested, “are you noticing -the rare contrast between two ladies fair to-night?” - -John Cabot nodded and glanced abstractedly into his wife’s pleased, -expectant face, but omitted altogether to look the governess’ way. - -“Thank Heaven, I’m single. _I_ can enjoy such things.” Holt laughed. - -“You mean,” John corrected, “you can enjoy them out loud.” - -“And why can’t you, John?” Catherine protested. “Naturally and -connubially, you find it rather dull paying compliments to me, but -certainly Miss Trent deserves a few. Why in the world don’t you warm -up?” - -“I am warming up,” he replied, his dry smile all for the wet wine in -his glass. - -She showed increased dissatisfaction over his impersonalities. “You -sound and look distrait to-night. Are you worried, dear? Rufus told us -something about bricks falling on the Street. Is it true that you were -hit?” - -“Hard hit.” - -“You mean that you lost money?” - -“Lost?” He spoke with vague surprise. “Can I ever lose? Alas, no. While -the rumor-mongers were spreading the report which Rufus heard about my -losses, I made--made--_made_.” - -“You funny, clever John! Tell me”--a gleam lit the wife’s eyes--“was it -much that you made?” - -“Too much. It is disconcerting to gather in upward of a million -unintentionally.” - -“A million? _John!_ Won’t you tell us how you did it? I never tire of -your coups.” - -Dolores felt relieved and extremely glad to see her interest and pride -in her husband. Surely not even the exacting Catherine could fail to -care for such a man! In that moment between demand and response, she -decided definitely to forget as unworthy of herself, of the mother -of Jack and of John Cabot the presumptions of the Marquis d’Elie. -Undoubtedly they were--well, just d’Elie’s presumptions. - -“And you never will tire, eh, so long as I win?” John’s somewhat -cynical glance transferred from his wife’s Heaven-blue eyes to those of -his longtime friend. “I’ve spoken to you before, Rufus, of having been -nagged for the past year by an idea that Europe has been suffering less -from the effects of war than from the effects of peace. Some time ago -I underwrote a loan to help the Poles against the Bolsheviki. With the -‘Red’ army threatening Warsaw from the north and east, it looked for a -while as if my investment in real peace was to be wiped out.” - -“And to-day the cables brought the news----” inserted Holt. - -“Exactly.” John shrugged as if at catastrophe. “After Weygand broke the -Russian center and retired the right, none of the host that swept down -on the Polish capital survived but a handful of fugitives.” - -To this laconic recital of the high-finance of war, the feminine -contingent listened with diverse interest. To Dolores it was -evident that, for their benefit, he had stripped of technicalities -some gigantic map-changing feat to which he had played financial -generalissimo. She, too, was stirred by his success, even though her -casual perusal of newspaper headlines scarcely fitted her to grasp its -entirety. From watching the grown-up of Jack’s whimsical smile, she -turned again to enjoy the reflex of triumph on Catherine’s alert face. - -“It would seem that your guardian angel is working overtime when you -can’t lose even to the grasping Soviet. Isn’t it just _too_ pathetic!” -The unwonted gleam still lit her eyes, as she turned them upon the -governess. “Can’t you, my dear, say something to cheer this victim of -good luck?” - -At the direct appeal, Dolores straightened. She must not fail Mrs. -Cabot who was trying so kindly to bring her out, she adjured herself. -To be dull when so much had been done to brighten her was rank -ingratitude. She must be gay. - -“Would that I were witty, like you good folks!” she wished, with a shy, -admiring glance among them. - -“And aren’t you?” Holt asked. - -“I used to try hard to be. I never was quite comfortable until I gave -it up. It was like release from bondage when I decided one day to be -just sincere. I do sincerely congratulate Mr. Cabot----” - -“Don’t you ever change your mind,” the enthusiastic lawyer interrupted. -“Scarce were we properly introduced, Miss Trent and I, when by this -sincerity which she depreciates she thrilled me with a beautiful -perception.” - -“How nice, Rufus, that you still thrill,” Catherine commented with a -particularly guileless smile. - -“Over anything that is good of its kind,” he amplified. “Such success -as I have had at the bar, I owe to that capacity. To me nothing can -be more thrilling than the sudden sight of human character. This -perception that I have had--this beautiful sight that I have seen---- -Perhaps, John, you will let me toast it with your wonderful wine?” - -At his host’s encouraging nod, Holt arose and fixed his eyes on the -frieze with the twitching smile of inspiration. After a pause, he began: - -“I do not give you Wine, Woman and Song. No, nothing so new as that! -But it is a song I give--a song of woman and wine. In varying vintages -we drink inspiration from the sweetness or tartness, the smoothness, -gentleness and headiness of women--we men. From the Cocktail Girl, of -whom a little is enough, to good old Mother Cordial, who calms us with -her seasoned satisfactions, we have much to enjoy. Here is Champagne.” - -Lifting from beside his plate the tall-stemmed glass half-full of -bubbling amber, he bowed toward the yellow velvet vision. - -“How it sparkles, infects our moods, dares us into animation! If only -it would never let us down to normal again--would never cease to -sparkle--Champagne!” - -As if by chance, his boyish smile left Catherine’s pleased face and -strayed Dolores’ way. With a kiss of the rim, he replaced the tall -glass upon the cloth. His fingers loosed its slender stem; found a -smaller glass; raised it. - -“Once in a lifetime you meet a woman who is like this deep red -Burgundy. Does it need to speak--the wine--to boast its color, its -fragrance, its power? See, it is too rich for the eye to penetrate; -there is not a bubble in it to suggest its life; it is topped by -no froth. All too quietly, it offers us sensation. And we sip of -it--delight. And we drink deep--intoxication. - -“The woman who is like the deep, red wine--once in a lifetime we meet -her. No need for her to laugh with us, to coquette, even to speak. Her -personality is an alluring hue. She gives off a fragrance of soul that -drowns gross thought. Without words she promises all emotions--life. -She, like the wine, needs only to be. - -“I do not give you Wine, Woman and Song; nothing so new as that. I -sing, friends, an older song--_the_ woman, man’s wine!” - -Silence held the little group as Holt ceased to speak. With his left -hand he patted the bald spot upon his head, as if doubtful of the -wisdom of having broached his “beautiful perception.” Then, slowly, -his smile reappeared, as though from frank pleasure over a creditable -performance. With lifted glass he turned to their host. - -Dolores also turned. - -But John Cabot did not meet their gaze--either her own or that of his -friend. And he did not speak. He was, however, the first to drain his -Burgundy. - -The girl wondered at the gleam in his eyes. Never had she seen him look -that way before. It seemed soon for even so excellent a potion to have -had effect. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -Falltime was well gone for the year. Yet in the rigors of winter a -flower came to bloom in the heart of Dolores Trent. Petal-soft had -opened the peace of her to-day. Warm-hued glowed the hope of to-morrow. -As though none such ever had pricked her mind were the thorn-fears of -yesterday. - -She first consciously viewed the miracle on a sharply bright afternoon -when she and young Jack had crossed the Avenue for one of the strolls -in Central Park which she was teaching him to enjoy. The fact that she -had reached content glinted into her realization from off the sunlight. -The green grass surviving the patches of snow, the birds darting hither -and yon on their unaccountable errands, the branches swaying tractably -to the breeze--each sight and sound about them accented the harmony -with Nature of her changed mood. Hitherto, memories of her past had -spoiled the present with dread of what the future might be. To-day -the past was crowded into its proper position as the mere background -of her life. So full of enjoyment was the present that she seemed -almost--_almost_ to have reached the future. - -And her mental state seemed to have blessed her charge like a -benediction. No longer did the cripple’s features twist into snarls at -sight of more agile children at play. To his precocious mind had been -submitted the law of compensation. Constantly reminding himself that -there was meant to be no perfect earthly state, he compared nurse-maids -and mothers unfavorably with his governess-pal; buttoned his coat -thoughtfully when he passed a youngster in rags who could run; tilted -his head farther to one side when a rheumy-eyed wreck of a father on a -bench pointed the contrast with that of his god-man, his “John Cabot.” - -“It _is_ fun being happy,” he asserted gnomically. - -“It is--it is,” she agreed, with conviction equal to his own. - -“I think I have learned how to be happy more from you, ’Lores, than -from Dick. But I don’t mind acknowledging that I was all wrong about -the way I treated him before you came. Don’t you think he ’preciates, -though, that I’ve tried to make it up to him? The way he pecks around -my fingers when I hold his lettuce-leaf shows he’s not afraid of me -any more. And the way he _sings_! ’Lores, when he perks his head on -one side, just like John and me, and fixes his shiny eyes on mine---- -D’you know, I think he is awful fond of me, ’spite of the way I -acted. It makes me feel----” In the act of drooping, the over-large, -brown-cropped head threw bravely back. “It makes me _ashamed_,” he -finished. “Don’t you suppose we could let Dick out of the cage a while -each day, just to give him a little the feeling that he’s free?” - -“Of course we could, Jackie. I am sure he’d soon learn to stay inside -your rooms. He has more philosophy than you’d credit to his size or -he’d never sing as he does in a cage.” - -The lad’s eyes up-flashed a radiant look. “I’d be relieved a lot to see -Dick get something out of his life. I’d feel a better right to enjoy -something awful wonderful that’s going to happen to me to-day. You -won’t be cross that I’ve kept it a secret from you? I wanted to s’prise -you. But I intended all along to tell you first of anybody. ’Lores----” - -His slithering gait stopped in the center of the path that he might -grasp her two hands instead of the one. Through the fur lining of his -gloves she could feel the jump of his pulse. Looking down, she saw -a sort of solemn joy upon his wizened little face. From under the -beautiful sweep of his lashes gleamed what she had not seen there -before, tears. - -“John’s going to bring me the dog, ’Lores,” he announced in a voice -surcharged with unchildlike feeling. “I never asked him again after -that day. You know--the day you came--when two of the gold-fish died? -It was he took that magazine with the kennel advertisement I had -marked. You remember that we never could find it? That was a long time -ago and I was afraid John had forgotten. But he hadn’t. I guess he -never forgets anything. He saved the address and he’s got me one of the -breed of that picture. It means more to me than getting what he’s never -let me have, a live puppy. It means----” - -“That your father trusts you now. Oh, Jack darling, I am so glad -for you!” With emotion equal to his own Dolores filled in when the -child-voice broke. - -“And, ’Lores----” excitement fortified him, “he’s bringing it -to-day--probably this very hour. I left word with Bradish the direction -we were taking and just where we’d rest. But I guess, after all, we’d -better go back. My dog mightn’t like it if I wasn’t home when he -arrived. Naturally he’ll be anxious to get acquainted with his boy. -Let’s start back.” - -Despite Dolores’ readiness, he still hesitated. - -“I kind of don’t feel that I dare be so happy, ’Lores, when I know you -get sorry sometimes. You’re not to be sorry any more. I’ve explained to -John about why I want to take care of you always. I’m not too little -now to look after you and when I grow up I intend to make you awful -happy. I’d like to tell you now that special name for you that I----” - -The girl had to lean low to catch his confession. But not for all the -lesser joys of her life would she have missed it. On her knees in the -gravel of the path she held him for one precious moment to her heart. -Although quickly she restrained herself in order not to offend his idea -of big-boy decorum and although the homeward pace set by his physical -limitations was slow, she seemed to walk on air--seemed to have -realized in her virginity the joy of motherhood. - -For once Jack’s anxiety to precede his hero home had been well advised. -It took time to reach the nearest exit, then to retrace their steps -up-town along the pavement that fronted the park wall. Scarcely had -they come opposite the Cabot block when they saw John in riding -clothes about to mount the white Arabian which was the chief of his -relaxations. - -Scuttling to his side the curb, John, Jr., announced their return -in his lustiest shout. Dolores understood the excitement which had -snatched his hand from hers when she noticed that a scraggly Airedale -puppy was tucked under the left parental elbow. - -For the moment the “Stop” sign of the traffic policeman at the crossing -just below had cut off the flow of vehicles. John Cabot, hearing and -seeing his son, returned to the groom the reins of his horse. By -neck-nap he held up the wriggling symbol of re-established faith; then, -stooping, set the young dog on his feet and started him across the -street to meet the lad who had earned his ownership. - -Jack’s whistle of encouragement was out-shrilled by the “Go” blast -from below. The puppy, despite the wobbliness of his legs, evidently -had lived to learn. The louder the whistle, the stronger the canine -obligation. His stub tail straight up, his square-chopped jowl low, -his ears flat-pointed toward his goal, he set off in form that would -have done proud his bull-terrier and otter-hound ancestors toward the -policeman down the street. - -Jack took after him. At a pace of which Dolores would not have believed -him capable, with his overly-long arms outstretched and his head -lopping well to one side, he slithered regardlessly into the crush of -traffic. As one, the father and the governess realized his danger. From -opposite curbs, both started after him. The Airedale, although debarred -by youth from discrimination, showed that he had inherited speed. But -Jack, urged beyond thought of self by desire to rescue his new and dear -possession, gained in the pursuit. Lunging close, he reached for the -waggling stub tail. Almost did he grasp it. Almost did he, as well as -the dog, reach the safety zone. - -On the right side of the Avenue, John Cabot had been hindered by the -up-streaking cars. On the left, Dolores might have been in time, except -that a misguided citizen, seeing a woman rush directly in front of a -heavy car, laid violent hands upon her and dragged her back. Her shriek -mingled with the automobile’s siren. Above both warnings the traffic -whistle shrilled and shrilled again. - -The movement of the street scene suddenly ceased. Each car was brought -up short. Pedestrians stood to stare, as if under some horrid spell. -Even the puppy paused at the repetition of the command which before had -moved him. At the worst possible moment for the continuation of the -house of Cabot, a sport car had spun around the corner. - -The case was one of the present-day many too brief for emergency -brakes. The tires smoked with the startled driver’s shout. But from the -victim there came not the slightest protest. - -In another moment, all was motion again. John Cabot gathered the lax -form of his son into his arms. A detached look was on his face as he -answered the questions of the policeman and other eye witnesses. But -while he nodded vaguely and gave his name and address in a quiet voice, -he remembered everything, even the puppy. Dolores took up the search -of his eyes; followed and picked up the confused little dog. She felt -a resentment very like hate at the insinuating way he wagged his tail, -as though trying to humbug her into approval of his conduct When she -rejoined John---- - -“Come, Dolores,” he said. - -Always before he had called her “Miss Trent.” - -When they reached the wrought-iron gate into the Cabot grounds he -stepped aside for her to precede him. That he should think of the puppy -and her before himself---- - -Even in that first full hour, she was impressed by these small -remembrances. They told her more of the man than all the greater things -which had been accredited to him. - -She it was who led the way around the clustered shrubbery and past the -dryad of the cynical smirk. At the steps she had to right herself from -stumbling. Although she was not weeping, she could not see. - -“Jackie.... _Jack!_” - -She had not spoken his name; merely had thought it in a hurting dread -for herself as well as for him. Was catastrophe always to follow her? -Had she brought it upon the boy by growing so close to him through -love? That name he had revealed--his “secret” name for her--had that -aught to do with the close-heeling of tragedy? - -“Other mother,” was what he had called her. - -_Other mother!_ - -_No._ The accident was to have been. It could not occur because he had -whispered a precious name. With passionate jealousy, she defended his -tribute. She would--she _must_ have that. - - * * * * * - -Along about midnight and quite unexpectedly, Jack became conscious. His -mind seemed to open with his eyes. He saw his father first, seated on -one side of the historic bed, then glanced about until he found Dolores -on the other. - -From the outer room could be heard the deep-breathing of the celebrated -surgeon who had performed the operation. He had preferred to spend the -night there, awaiting results. The nurse, too, had been persuaded to a -brief rest, since Mr. Cabot and the governess elected to keep the watch. - -The mother who, all evening, had been in a “state” of grief bordering -on hysteria, had been retired to her own apartment by one of her -headaches and Dr. Shayle. A remark made to the osteopath in a quite -calm voice, however, had suggested that already she had found relief -from the shock. - -“It will be better when it is all over,” she had said, turning with -one of her quavering, childlike smiles from placing a rose between her -son’s unresponsive fingers. “A lame lad couldn’t have gone far in this -rapid age.” - -Dolores, overhearing, felt a sensation new to her. By contrast with its -violence, she knew that it was not hate she felt for the puppy. This -was the first hate that had racked her--this feeling for Catherine -Cabot. “All over”--his mother to anticipate _that_! - -Now that the boy’s eyes had opened and widened with relief to find -herself and John by the bed, the suggestion seemed more inhuman -than before. She reached across to take away the rose of such cruel -suggestiveness. - -But Jack’s fingers now closed around the stem. His lips moved. - -Both she and his father leaned close. - -“Evening, John Cabot.” - -“Jack Cabot, good evening.” In an effortful murmur the older John made -his usual reply. - -“And you, ’Lores---- I am glad you are both---- Don’t have anyone -else----” Jack’s voice dwindled. Then soon he roused again. “If a -picture was taken--of my heart, it would show--just two faces, John’s -and ’Lores’. You’ll take my place, John--with Lores? You’ll try to make -her happy--like I meant to do? She never was--happy, you know--until -she and Dick and I----” - -The father’s whispered reassurance Dolores tried not to hear, just as -she tried not to see the look on his face. But without ears or eyes she -must have heard and seen. Her heart was near breaking with grief for -the two Johns. - -“Anything you decide--all right with me. I can trust--her with you. I’d -like to see--my dog.” - -Dolores lifted the young Airedale, which had been biting at her skirt, -to the edge of the bed and kept her hand on his collar while he wobbled -over the coverlet and licked, in his boisterous, insinuating way, the -outstretched hand of “his boy.” Soon she drew him away and replaced him -on the floor, from where he whimpered and coaxed to get up again. - -John, the while, had replaced the rose in his son’s searching hand. - -They two sat watching the fingers that began to tear apart its petals. - -“You are wasting your rose, Jackie dear,” Dolores said, to keep his -thoughts distracted from the puppy. - -He paused, but evidently not at her protest. The twittering of his -canary in the other room seemed to disturb him. - -“Poor Dick, he’s taking it hard,” he said and returned to the -destruction of the rose. - -After all the petals lay plucked on the coverlet, he gathered them -up in both hands. His gaze, too, settled on the sight of the crimson -life-leaves sifting through his pale fingers. - -“See, they look prettier--and smell sweeter--than before,” he urged, -his voice loudening from his effort to reassure them. “The rose isn’t -wasted. Nothing ever is. Even I--am not wasted. I’ve never been what -other boys--are. But I’m glad I’ve lived long enough to ’preciate you, -John. Maybe if I hadn’t--you and ’Lores----” - -His voice was cut by a hurting gasp. They hovered close over him, -watching the changes--from physical pain to mental relief--which -drifted like sunshine after shadows over his face. - -Dolores would gladly have died to save him one pang; yet all she could -do was to share his suffering. Her heart stopped beating from relief -when the dark, appealing lashes swept back again. From far away, yet -intensely, he looked up at them. - -“Remember, John and ’Lores, _nothing’s_--_ever_--_wasted_” - -As he spoke, a light not from the night lamp was shafted into the room. -Direct as a search-ray it found his face and settled there. - -At its touch Jack lifted to one elbow on the pillow, forgetful of pain; -gazed with an alert look into its unearthly radiance; leant his head to -one side, as if listening. - -“I will come. I am coming,” he said. - -“No, not yet, Jack--don’t go yet!” At last moved from his outer calm, -the father threw forward his body to screen off the sourceless shaft. -But not the faintest shadow showed. Through his brawn the light glowed -steadily. With a groan he slid to his knees beside the ancestral bed -and stretched clutching hands across the counterpane as if longing, yet -not daring to drag back into the semi-gloom the last of the line. - -His appeal sounded desperate--tortured from him. - -“How can you leave me, boy? You are part of me, Jack Cabot. Don’t -you realize that? You are all that I have. Don’t go yet awhile, my -son--little crushed bone of my bone!” - -Perhaps Jack heard. Perhaps he should have preferred to wait, if only -for the “while” that his man-god craved. But his eyes did not lower -from the blinding light or his head relax from its listening slant. -Any courteous desire which he may have had to stay was overruled by -the authoritative command that had reached him. In a last effort to -reassure the beloved two he must leave behind, he tried to smile--was -able to whisper: - -“I am not--afraid.... I see--the way.... The light----” - - * * * * * - -Through the numbness that made one pain of her heart and her head, -Dolores remembered sometime afterward that unprecedented midnight -twittering which had disturbed the boy. Softly, so as not to awaken the -great surgeon, she crossed the living-room to the window. The canary -greeted her with no flutter of wings. She lifted the cage off its hook, -carried it into the bedroom and placed it beside the night lamp. - -She and John Cabot stood in the utter silence which seemed to fill the -world, looking through the wires at the fluffed, yellow body that lay -upon the floor of the cage. Indeed Dick had taken it “hard.” Jack’s -wish for the small creature whose large love had made him “ashamed” was -fulfilled. His bird, too, had gone--set free. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -In justice to John Cabot, the spirit-girl Dolores related next an -interview between the financier and his wife of which she was told -afterward. So she explained to her demon audience when able to proceed. - -Three days had passed since that incomprehensible thing misnamed on -Earth as “life” had departed the unsightly physical of the young heir. -The great surgeon, after having established--to his own satisfaction -at least--that the patient had died of “nerve shock” and not of an -operation which he pronounced successful in all details, had departed -with his check. The servants were recovering from the emotional debauch -of the last offices and beginning to think consciously, rather than -subconsciously, in terms of tasks. - -The governess, immediately on her return from the cemetery where -had been consigned to dust her second safe love, had sought the -boy’s mother in her boudoir. She had come, she said, to express her -appreciation of the many kindnesses heaped upon her and to announce her -departure, since her engagement had come to so sudden and sad an end. - -Catherine, however, had insisted that she stay on in the house; in -a pitiful outburst had clung to her as the one who had been nearest -and dearest to the departed lad. Time enough later to decide in what -capacity she should remain. Her gentle companionship was “comforting” -to the bereaved mother. She must not “desert.” - -Dolores had hesitated, riven with doubts. She felt that she should -go. Yet she longed to stay. Catherine was suffering from one of the -headaches which would seem to have become chronic. Fragrant and pale -as a valley-lily in her crepe, she looked a lovely child, dependent -upon kindness. Dolores glanced away from the dew-wet eyes and compared -her own sense of loss with what a mother’s must be. Although she had -not forgotten that brutal anticipation of Jack’s death, hate hurt. -Catherine looked in need of forgiveness and she---- She _needed_ to -forgive. - -She was considering the somewhat vague disposal of her near future when -Mr. Cabot knocked. Advised by the set look of his face and his grave -manner, she at once excused herself; left them alone. Following is the -conversation between them, as reported to her later on. - -“This is the first time in several years that you, my wedded lord, have -visited my rooms. To what do I owe the rather unusual honor?” Catherine -asked. - -“To a rather unusual request.” - -John did not draw up the chair toward which she had waved him. He stood -through the interview--stood or paced from one object to another of -the luxurious room. At times he stopped quite near the _chaise longue_ -where she sat propped up by cushions, to study her guileless face and -the suffering air with which she sniffed a gold bottle of salts. - -“The boy is dead, Catherine.” - -“Yes, John.” - -“I loved the boy.” - -“I believe you did. Still, he must have been a great disappointment to -a fine specimen like you.” - -The compliment was repeated in her appreciative, uplifted gaze. But he -felt far from pleased. - -“You will oblige me by not referring to Jack’s infirmity again. He was -the only creature I’ve had to love since my mother, and I loved him as -he was. You and I, Catherine, should be the last to depreciate him for -what he symbolized.” - -“Symbolized? Oh, don’t tell me that again!” - -“Your criticism forces me to remind you. Outwardly our son was the -symbol of our malformed union.” - -“_John_, what a grim thought!” - -“Grim as the inheritance law--even to the third and fourth generation. -He paid the price in his person of our crime in giving him birth. -Through our fault, not his own, his body was warped and his temper -uncertain. I often remembered when I looked at him--remembered that no -amount of love was enough to atone for the wrong we had done him. I, -for one, am grateful that we three were spared the greater punishment. -So easily, in the sardonic scheme of things, the soul of him, too, -might have been warped. But his was as gallant and large and sweet as -ever outgrew injustice.” - -The implications against herself had turned Catherine to one of the -many mirrors conveniently placed. - -“How can you take such stern pride in your loyalty? You used to say, -you know, that you loved me.” - -He, also, studied her reflection. - -“I suppose you would call that a self-respecting statement? All -right, we’ll give it the benefit of my doubt that it is mere vanity. -I did love what I thought you were. But that was taken away, like my -mother--like Jack.” - -She showed the flurry that caught her up whenever inspired by one of -her “brainy” thoughts. - -“Has a man a right to think things about a woman which aren’t true, -marry her on the strength of them and then blame her for the rest of -their unnatural lives because he made a mistake?” - -“In our case I had--every right. Have you forgotten the details of -our first meeting, Catherine? Your father had invited me to the house -really to see you, not the pictures he hoped to sell me. Your mother -had selected me, sight unseen, by virtue of my bank account. They -helped you to make an impression on me which all of you knew to be -false. You were dressed in white, which you afterward told me you never -expected to wear again until your funeral. You looked innocent and -tender and dependent--all of which you were not. You sat upon a hassock -and played with a white Persian kitten--oh, every detail of the studied -effect made a lasting impression upon me! You had well-developed claws -then, but you held them in far more carefully than did the kitten. -Later, I learned, with quite a shock, that you detested cats. Yet you -held this one to your cheek and understudied its appeal to the best of -your feline ability.” - -“Thanks for admitting that I have some sort of ability,” the gentle -voice purred. - -“You have more than ability. You have positive power.” - -“My dear John! But don’t pay me all your stored-up compliments in one -visit. Save some and call again.” - -“You have that most potent of acquisitive forces, unassailable egotism. -I used to look into the faces of the painted parasites riding along -Fifth Avenue in their cars and wonder why so much was laid at their -feet. That was before I learned--_you_.” - -“To think that you, John, should learn anything from me!” - -“Egotism is the most acquiring force in the world. All great men have -it, but in them it is covered or excused by their greatness. All women -successful with men have it to the degree of a sort of hypnotism. They -blind men to what they are with the bright light of what they think -they are. You, for instance, think so well of yourself that one needs -strong lenses to see your faults. I used to hope that you’d dim some -day--have a doubt of yourself. But you never did. You are all strength -in your egotism.” - -Hard words they were, yet sadly spoken. During them the beautiful -subject had wavered between pique and pleasure. At their finish, she -offered her child-sweet laugh. - -“After this, I can refuse you nothing. Name the rather unusual favor -which you say you have come to ask!” - -“I wish you, Catherine, to get a divorce.” - -“You--_you_ want a divorce?” - -Astonishment overcame both pique and pleasure. - -“The boy was our only link. Now that he is gone, free me. You may have -the money--as much of it as you want. I can make more. Of late I’ve had -literally forced on me plenty of that which is my value in your eyes. -I’ll try to meet any demands you make. You see, I assume that you have -no reason other than money for keeping up this pretense longer.” - -“So, it has come to this?” - -Both face and form relaxed as she coaxed the cushions to give her -greater comfort. The astonishment in her eyes had been replaced by -shrewdness; that, in turn, by mild amusement. But the golden lines of -her eye-brows were arched, as always when she was at mental tension. - -“Do you intend this request, my hitherto immaculate John, to be taken -as a confession of guilt?” - -“_Guilt?_” - -The one repeated word, weighted by disgust, was the whole of his denial. - -“Whence--where--how, then, a divorce, without _cause_? Are we not -citizens of the supposedly respectable commonwealth of New York?” - -“There is Reno.” - -“_Reno!_” As if from force of her emphasis, Catherine sprang up from -her lounge, crossed the room and faced him. “So you’ve been calculating -on Reno? A nice, chivalrous plan--for _me_ to endure such tedium and -long-suffering to oblige you with a divorce! Four days’ train travel -from New York and six months’ residence in a Wild West town in the kind -of hotel that has only one bath to a floor and wouldn’t know what you -meant by _à la carte_ if you spelled it backward and translated it into -Indian. My dear husband, what could you offer that would repay me for -one of those awful exiles in Nevada’s make-believe metropolis?” - -“What sum has d’Elie named?” - -“_John!_ Are you trying to insult me?” - -“No, Catherine. I am trying to settle with you.” - -For a tight-strung moment man and wife regarded each the other, he not -unkindly, she with twisting lips. The next, she turned and herself -began to glide from object to object of the room, as if she too were -strange to them. When she again stopped before him, her face had -beautified. She laid a hand upon his arm. - -“Tell me, _why_ a divorce, dear?” - -“Why not a divorce?” His eyes held forbiddingly on the clutch of her -polish-pointed fingers. “Let’s not go into unnecessary explanations. I -understand something of your ambitions and shall be glad to help you -achieve them. You will wear a title well--one thing that I could never -give you. And you’ll do better, I am sure, with a man whose devotion is -for hire.” - -“A beautiful sentiment, as Clarke Shayle would say,” she commented. “It -is fortunate that I didn’t marry you for any supposed amiability. As -for yourself?” - -“As for myself----” He flung off the hand that still clung, a note of -passion in his voice. “Has your memory utterly failed you, Catherine? -Can’t you or won’t you remember what I used to be? Once I tried to make -you understand something of what I hoped from life and love. Do you -suppose that it has been comfortable for me to appear a stone man? You -don’t want me. Let me find a life--perhaps even love--for myself. Oh, -Catherine, you used at least to seem kind in the early days! Try to be -a little kind again.” - -“Just kind enough to free you. And _she_?” - -Certainly there was no promise in the bite of her response or the -curiosity with which she eyed the emotion on his face. - -In reply to her question, John Cabot simply looked at her--a warning -look, known and feared on the Street. - -“This lady with whom you hope to find life and love--did she suggest -the plan to lay me on the shelf?” Catherine inquired. “It’s an ill -wind that blows nobody good, they say. Of course I can’t blame her for -wishing to take advantage of poor Jack’s death by----” - -“That will do, Catherine.” He voiced the warning look. “There is no -other woman in my life.” - -As if relieved of an unhappy suspicion, she lifted a smile of the -self-believing sort which ten years before would have blinded him to -the lies behind her lips. - -“Then why,” she asked, “suggest the Union Pacific--the road to Reno? -How can you, a mere husband, feel sure that you know your wife’s heart? -I defy the laws of Nevada or any other state to give you the key. What -if I should say that I still do want you?” - -“You cannot say that and speak the truth.” - -In his positiveness she saw that her past power to beguile him indeed -was gone. But no ineffectualness on that account depressed her, as -proved by the light laugh with which she returned to the pleasanter -assurances of her mirror. - -“You are right. I hope you are as grateful as I am that I can’t. I’d -be bored to extinction with the ordinary state called ‘marital bliss,’ -either with a man who doted upon me or one upon whom I doted. Fact -is----” Bending closer to the glass, she focused into the twin pair of -eyes a look of assured capability, “I never did care for you. Lately -I quite dislike you. You are, you know, superior. I don’t wish to be -superior myself and I resent people who are. There now! You say you -like honesty--won’t you give me a good mark?” - -With one of her unaccountable transitions, her manner changed from -frank spite to pathos. Brushing her hand across her eyes, as if to hide -from him any sign of the feeling to which she had declared herself -immune, she crossed to the window and leaned, looking out, against the -effective background of its bronze hanging. - -“No, my only husband--the answer is no.” The cynicism in what she -said was weakened by the way she said it. “I’m sorry to refuse any -little request of yours, but I cannot give you up. And I don’t think, -really, that you have been quite nice. Since the challenge was to -come from you, you might have been heroic enough to let me name the -weapons--swords or pistols, you know--that impossible Reno or New York. -Don’t you think yourself that you have added insult to injury?” - -He did not dignify the appeal with a reply. He was about to go; had -bowed to her formally and was crossing to the door. - -“John, dear.” - -Her quavery cry stopped him on the threshold. - -She followed him and stood with her gold-gloried head hung low over her -twisting hands. “You say I have lost all kindness, John. I think _you_ -have. You are not what you used to be, any more than am I. You haven’t -had a thought for me in what you ask. Perhaps a man cannot realize what -it means to a woman to--to be faced with a demand like yours of to-day. -For me to divorce you for deserting me--to admit to our world that you -have tired of me---- Even supposing there is nothing to me but what you -say, don’t you know that would crucify my vanity? But there is more to -me, John. I once _was_ that kitten-girl you thought me. At times--even -yet--I have my softer feelings. I am used to compliments and I--I am -hurt to the heart by your insult.” - -John did not take advantage of her pause. He continued to wait and -wonder. - -“I see far less beautiful women than I being understood and -appreciated,” she continued after a quivering sigh. “Is it too much -that I ask to be endured? And yet, I don’t want to ask that--I really -don’t. I want you to be happy, but---- Oh, John, why couldn’t you have -waited until I’d recovered? What with the accident and poor Jack’s -death and the funeral and now _this_, I feel that I’ve had almost more -than I can stand. To-day my head aches until----” - -Again she paused. And again he did not speak. - -“Dr. Shayle says that I ought to go away somewhere for a change of air -and scene,” she continued after a moment, in a lower, more pathetic -voice. “I was hesitating, in my mistaken viewpoint, feeling that I -shouldn’t leave you in the house alone just at this time. But after -what you’ve said to me I see that you’d be glad to have me go. I’ll -start to-morrow for--for somewhere--anywhere.” - -Soon her sobs allowed her to add: “And I’ll think things over while -I’m gone, dear. Perhaps, when I get used to your idea, it won’t sound -so brutal as it does to-day. I just _might_ come to see it more your -way. Or perhaps you will miss me enough to--to----” - -He realized that she was giving him every chance, but still failed to -improve it. - -With only a reproachful glance for his lack of generosity, she changed -the subject. “I want to speak to you about one thing in particular. -It’s Miss Trent. As you may know, I have conceived an unusual affection -for her. I don’t feel that we should send a young creature of her -beauty and fatal charm out into the world again. On account of her -devotion to Jackie and the wonderfully good influence she exerted over -him, I feel the responsibility of seeing her safely settled, either -with us or elsewhere. She is really quite refined. And how her looks -came out in that evening dress I--we gave her! For one, I don’t intend -that the he-wolves outside shall get on the trail again of a girl who -was so dear to our--our boy.” - -“Your sentiments do you proud, Catherine.” - -“Don’t be sarcastic, John. You may think I have no heart, but there are -people who wouldn’t agree with you. Dolores, for instance. I show her -every day my appreciation for what she did for Jack.” - -“And I intend to show mine,” John inserted quietly, “by some suitable -arrangement and provision. Jack’s last request was that I look out for -her. I, too, have a high opinion of Miss Trent.” - -“Then do, John, unbend toward her! You treat her--really--like a -servant in the house. It offends my finer sensibilities to see how -afraid the poor thing is of you. You can’t doubt her devotion to the -boy. Try to realize, as I do, that her heart is aching for him almost -as much as our own. Be kinder to her while I’m gone, won’t you, John?” - -“Don’t worry. I shall be kind to her.” - -“I do thank you for that promise. You’re a dear. I should have worried -for fear you’d hurt her hyper-sensitive feelings in some way--as--as -you’ve hurt mine. You see, she has agreed to stay on in the house at -least until I get back. I’ve made her believe that I need someone above -Morrison to look after things in my place.” - -“In that case,” said John, “I shall move to one of the clubs.” - -“Oh, no,” she protested. “Dolores would suspect that you had been -driven out of your home and be most uncomfortable. It isn’t at all -necessary for you to go.” - -“Pardon me. I think it is.” - -He left her, disappointed and dismayed. The “mere husband” of her -accusation, he felt he must have misunderstood his wife. That affection -for him should outweigh her cupidity seemed incredible. And yet what -else could have prompted her refusal of his “rather unusual” request? - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Who does not find the intermission tedious after the tragic second -act? The curtain has lowered between you and knowledge of what the end -of the play is to be. Over the auditorium side of the footlights the -indirect glow from dome and gallery flares. You straighten and turn to -your friends. You see them brush the damp from their eye-lashes; hear -them clear the husk from their voices; appreciate that they, as well as -you, are groping back to reality. But you resent your friends; resent -yourself; resent reality. It is a poor exchange for the make-believe -whose artistry has humbled a thousand egos into a unit--an audience. - -Because so essentially temporary, the intermission is a strain. And if -to you, how much more to the actors, also waiting behind the scenes, -whose ecstasies have brought the great sophisticated house to tears! - -The week following Mrs. Cabot’s departure from her Fifth Avenue mansion -was one of poignant loneliness for Dolores Trent. Strangely enough, -however, she refused such companionship as offered. When good Mrs. -Morrison urged that she come down to the cheerful first-floor parlor at -tea-time or in the evenings, she plead the necessity of brushing-up on -the languages upon which she depended for her next position. So almost -painful to one of her yielding habits were her frequent refusals to -see Dr. Shayle that she left a standing “Not-at-home” with those who -answered the door and telephone. - -With none to give her orders, she looked for things to do and tried -to the full of her gentle authority to maintain discipline in the -establishment, as when the Cabots were at home. That, so far as she -knew at the time, was madame’s chief reason for leaving her in -charge. Tactfully she submitted suggestions for increased orderliness -to the housekeeper. She instructed the yard-man according to her own -ideas of the winter needs of the trees and shrubs under his charge. A -stable-boy, suspected of mistreating his master’s mount, she brought to -confession and a quixotic zeal to make amends. - -But chiefly she waited. Impatient of interruption from those who wished -to be her friends, of the warm, indirect lighting shafted over her by -the Cabot millions, of the comfort of reality, she merely endured the -intermission. Her imagination strained toward what would be revealed -when the curtain rose again. - -The Airedale terrier, that now was not to know the joys of owning his -own “boy,” she made her particular charge. Although she had resented -him from first sight, she came to take a vicarious pride in his -up-bringing and points. Through Jack’s eyes she watched his development -out of puppyhood into promising young dogship; daily brushed the -harsh tan coat over which the outlines of a black saddle already were -forming; noted with interest that, although scarcely two months old, -his eyes were turning black; attended his diet herself, lest his canine -voracity weaken the bones of his front legs, now straight as two -gun-barrels. In time she felt for him a comradeship even greater than -Jack’s would have been. Was he not in the same, culpable position which -had saddened her youth? Had not another died for him? - -She did not realize how much his demonstrative preference for her -company had gained upon her until one night when awakened from her -early sleep by the ache of loneliness. She decided to join him in -Jack’s living room where he was allowed to dream his puppy dreams -curled up on the foot-stool that stood as of yore before the lame -little autocrat’s arm-chair. Slipping a warm robe over her nightgown -and loose long hair, she tip-toed in mules along the balcony and -into the suite of so many memories. Scarcely had she closed the door -when the puppy rose to receive her. Although he stood a picture of -preparedness in the center of the room, instinctively posing after the -traditions of his A. K. C. ancestry when on hunt or show-bench, the -waggle of his short, flagstaff tail and certain quivers of his stiff -chin whiskers assured her that he was delighted she had come. - -And Dolores returned his greeting with more than usual cordiality. She -rubbed the level of his back with her foot and stooped to scratch the -section of forehead between the small, V-shaped ears when he kissed -effusively her bare ankles. - -She straightened; for a moment stood listening. The room was very -quiet--so much quieter than usual. She glanced at the grandfather’s -clock which had ticked through so many generations of Cabots. The -living John had tinkered it to outlast the life of his heir and it had -made good his boast. Reproachfully Dolores eyed the “calm” face which -Jack had approved. Indeed, a clock needed to be “calm-faced,” when its -office was ticking lives away. - -The hour hand was close to eleven. But then, the hour didn’t matter. -Nothing mattered except that Jack was gone. With the thought, she -turned toward the closed bedroom door. Impossible--almost too -impossible for belief it seemed that he was not sleeping within. -Comparing to-night with other nights when she had crept in to assure -herself that his sleep was sound, the past seemed real, the now the -unreality. Surely he would be hunched up beneath his eider-down and -satin just as usual. - -Moved by her longings, the girl continued across the living-room; -opened, then closed behind her the bedroom door and stopped beside the -bed. Its absolute flatness, the neat roll of the comforter between its -foot-posts, the prim set of the pillows at its head--all filled her -with realization keen as actual disappointment. She bunched up the -pillows, threw herself upon them and shook out the comforter over her. -With a sob, she tried to clasp to her heart the delusion that a twisted -little shape lay within her arms. - -Before she fell asleep she realized that the puppy had followed her -into the room. He had hidden under the bed, evidently, until eased of -fear over his temerity. Her resistance of the whimpers with which he -soon grew emboldened kept her awake for a time. What was he--stupid, -brute atom--that he presumed to offer comfort for her human loss? And -had not he himself deprived her? Quite roughly she pushed away his -exaggeratedly shivering body and repulsed his suggestion that he, too, -was lonely. Let him continue to hide from her sight--let him die of his -loneliness! - -And yet---- In those little-girl days of long ago, had _she_ died, -willing though she might have been to offer that apology for her -existence? What would she have done if the father whom she had deprived -had not been merciful to her? - -A damp nose in her down-stretched palm emphasized the question. She -should remember that the creature wasn’t hers to mistreat. Jack would -want his dog given the benefit of every doubt. She picked up the recent -bundle of canine pathos--now one of exuberant joy--and permitted him to -wriggle down upon the coverlet. - -A sound louder than his dream barks, then a movement more definite than -the twitching of the four feet co-ordinating with the speed at which he -imagined himself running, awakened her. Against the slivers of light -which outlined the door-frame, she saw that the puppy was standing at -attention--hind legs thrust well back, bristles stiff, nose close to -the sill. She sat up and shook herself wider awake. Someone had entered -the sitting-room and made a light. - -She would better announce her presence inside than have the dog bark -the announcement for her. With the idea of returning to her own -chamber, she gathered her dressing-gown close around her and opened the -door. - -There she stood absolutely still. Everything seemed to halt with her -feet--the beat of her heart, all capability to move or speak, even any -sense of surprise. - -Powerless as she felt looked John Cabot. - -He was sitting in Jack’s arm-chair, beside the lamp; was looking at -her. The parts of Jack’s broken, pace-setting toy were spread out on -the table. In both hands he clutched the torn magazine in which the boy -had drawn a circle around the dog of his choice. He was pale and gaunt. - -From the look of him, he must have imagined her a vision. And she made -no move to undeceive him. He was convinced of the reality of the moment -by the puppy. Holding aside the frisking beast, he straightened and -forced himself to speak. - -“You mustn’t stay here, Dolores.” - -His words, his frown, his harsh tone--all stabbed into the wound of -her solitariness as she had not been stabbed when alone. She could not -manage an answer, except to cross to the hall door. Then, just as her -hand turned the knob---- - -“For God’s sake, don’t leave me--don’t go!” At her distressed -hesitation, he added a jumble of words. “There is something I’ve been -wanting to say to you--to offer--about your future. Forgive me if I -seem abrupt or rude. I feel the strain of--of recent events. It might -help to talk with someone who understands. Won’t you stay--a little -while?” - -Dolores felt more hurt than when he had spoken first, but hurt for him. -Knowing the steel control of the man, she wondered at his mood. She -returned into the room and stood before him, one thought clear in her -mind. So this, then, was what she had been awaiting all along--this -need for companionship of John Cabot? - -Usually so punctilious about the courtesies, he remained seated, his -knuckles whitening in his grip of the crumpled magazine. That he now -avoided looking at her filled her with the equivocal sensations of hope -and fear which had unsteadied her that night of the dinner. But she -tried not to feel for herself. She wanted all she was to feel for him. -She saw that he was making an effort to get himself in hand and wished -that she might help him. Yet she hesitated to speak lest she sound some -discordant note. - -“I thought it was only Jack I was lonely for--that sitting in his room, -among his things---- But I was deluding myself. I know that now. The -sight of you---- Well, it has not calmed me.” - -All too brief a glance he lifted to her startled eyes. - -“If I seem strange or--or incoherent---- Dolores, you never could -imagine such loneliness as I’ve been suffering. Every night since I -moved to the club, I’ve been obsessed with the desire to come here. I -knew I shouldn’t trust myself. Last night I tramped the street until -five in the morning to wear out the wish. But to-night it came back -stronger than before. It has half crazed me--has worn me out. I--I am -run down, I guess. I feel like the last half-second of an eight-day -clock.” - -At his simile, the girl glanced toward the corner. The hour hand of the -tall old time-piece was exactly where it had been, close to eleven. -She realized why the silence had seemed so intense when she first had -entered the room. Shocked, she leaned closer to John Cabot. - -“Jack’s clock,” she murmured. “I wound it only yesterday. It has -stopped.” - -As he, too, turned and looked, his face reflected her superstitious -tone. The quiet increased. Everything in their world seemed to have -stopped. - -The young Airedale broke the pause. With a whine and one paw he -importuned the master’s lax-hanging hand. John pushed him away. - -“I owe you worse than nothing, puppy. I meant that Jack should be -considerate of you, but not that he should die for you.” - -The dog appeared to understand; at least, raised his head and howled -dismally. - -To hush his weird lament, Dolores sank down upon the hassock which -never more would rest a pair of shrunken legs; dragged the wretched -alien out from under the chair; stroked and patted him. - -“He didn’t intend that Jack should die for him,” she interceded. “He -didn’t intend anything--any more than I intended that my mother should -die for me. I try not to hate him. I am sure Jack would know and be -distressed if I did. He’s just a foolish puppy.” - -“‘And what is folly, but a riotous expenditure of will?’” muttered -John. His hand sought the head of the dog for the importuned caress, -but spasmodically clasped around Dolores’. He leaned toward her, -although with eyes turned away, as he continued to quote: “‘There -are to will and to have your will. There are your social ideas, your -immoderate desires, your excesses, your pleasures that end in death, -your sorrows that quicken the pace of life. For pain is perhaps but a -violent pleasure.’” - -Then he looked at her. His eyes, dark and brilliant through a surface -film, asked her consideration. Never had she seen such misery. She had -thought it could only be felt in the heart. - -“Do you believe that?” he demanded. “Is the pain that is wrecking me -only a form of pleasure?” - -Dolores doubted her voice, but she forced it. It sounded unsteady as -her thoughts. “I wish I knew what to say. I--I cannot endure to see you -so unhappy. I wish I knew----” - -“There is no heartbreak except deliberate sin. That I keep telling -myself,” he interrupted. “If I am true to Jack’s trust, true to myself, -true to you----” - -His hand slid to her wrist; hesitated there. - -“But with the best I can do I am breaking. Everything has combined -to weaken my resistance. Jack, who was your protector, died and -immediately after him the canary. To-night the clock that has not -missed a minute for three generations of us--even the old clock gives -up.” - -“Do you remember what Jack said,” Dolores reminded, “that nothing is -wasted? Maybe----” - -“Don’t start me on that train of thought,” he objected harshly. “It -maddens me. If Jack and his restraining influence were to die--if we -were to meet here to-night--if time for us was to stop----” - -He clutched her other arm and passed both hands to her shoulders. One -remained there. The other continued around her neck; forced her face -to lift to his; clung to her throat. The pulse of his fingers beat -against the pulse just under her chin. - -“Look at me, Dolores. Keep me seeing the surprise in your eyes. Do you -realize that you have only your inexperience to protect you?” - -She was glad to obey. She looked and looked. And as she looked, she saw -her heaven--at last her home. Something lifted that for long had lain a -dead-weight on her heart, a question that now wafted like a fragrance -from her lips. - -“You care--for me?” - -“Dolores....” - -“You have longed for me as I have longed for you?” - -“Didn’t you know from the first? I tell you to implore you--don’t trust -me. I am no longer strong, Dolores. Against my will, against Jack’s -faith---- Life, position, integrity--everything is a trifle to me -except the need to know---- Dolores, will you try to understand? Won’t -you forgive and pity me? I am terrified for you. You must be stronger -than I.” - -She did not appear to have heard him. - -“You love me, then. You _love_ me.” - -Over and over again the answer to her question gave sweet form to her -lips. Her head fell back. Her eyes pursued his. - -The young Airedale, convinced at last that he was unwelcome, emerged -from under the chair, gave them a reproachful look, then trotted out of -the room. His exit seemed to impress John anew with their aloneness. He -drew up and away from her. - -“Remember,” he warned, “that hopelessness is a dangerous state. So long -as I had hope I was strong. Now that I am hopeless--hopeless----” - -It was then that he told her of his interview with Catherine. Knowing -his wife as most did not, he could not hope to change her private and -particular reasons for refusing to free him. As Clarke Shayle had said, -Catherine could not be “reached.” He had promised Jack to help Dolores -toward a safe future. He was glad of to-night’s opportunity to learn -what she wished that future to be. - -But the girl no longer was restrained by his restraint. Now that she -understood, she had no thought of herself except as it might concern -him. And why consider the future in preference to the here and now? Why -lower her eyes from that first sight of home and heaven? - -The admiration and pity which she felt in her mind for him blended into -a yearning desire voluntarily to satisfy the demands spoken only in the -glaze of his eyes, in the pallor of his face, in the stiff set of his -lips. - -“Maybe you would be comforted,” she ventured, “to know how much I----” - -Although he shrank farther back, his fingers, still pressed against her -throat, conducted the tremor that passed through him. - -“I’d give my soul to hear you say it. Surely you know that? And yet I -must not hear--I dare not hear. Don’t trust me. Don’t try me.” - -“Does love try love?” Her eyes widened incredulously. “Isn’t love -a question, incomplete unless answered? You say that you care as I -do--that you have cared all along. You would not tell me if it were -not true. You ask me by loving me. Let me answer. You want to hear me! -Don’t you--_don’t_ you, John?” - -She shook back the loosened hair from her face that he might see while -he heard the truth. She had thought him pale; now all color left the -lips pressed against his teeth. His hands tightened on her, but to -hold her away. Before to-night she would have been silenced by this -continence. But now that she knew---- Everything was different now. - -“Don’t repulse me as you did the dog, John. I deserve your pity more -than he. Don’t remind me that since birth my presence has brought -death.” - -“Death, Dolores? I never guessed what life could be until I saw you.” - -“Why, then, make me feel that you regard me as a curse?” - -“Dear, I am blessed to have known you.” - -Her appeal for herself gentled him as those for him could not do. In -his palms he cupped the oval of her cheeks; for long looked into her -eyes. Stiffly, as if compelled against their inclination by his will, -his lips moved. - -“So fragrant and pure is the soul of you, but fragile as the rose that -Jack destroyed. You must not be wasted on me. - -“But he said, John, that nothing is ever really wasted, not even the -tears of dew on a rose. They have only their day--roses. And hearts -have only their day. Why not enjoy them the more for their little life? -Tell me again and read your answer in my happiness. Is it true--_true_ -that you love me?” - -His eyes closed that he might not read; then opened at once lest he -fail. - -“I love you with a crave that terrifies me--only less, I hope, than my -honor--with a will to protect you from what you do not understand--from -myself and yourself----” - -“Protect love against itself?” Her incredulity silenced him. “If my -heart is a rose that you wish to pluck, John, take it, crush it, sift -its petals through your fingers. If it brings you a moment’s pleasure, -it will not have been wasted.” - -His hands recoiled from her face as if from a danger. - -But Dolores lifted her arms and laid them around his neck. She felt no -false shame before him. She knew now. - -“Take me, John, and crush me. Waste me, since you call love a waste. I -am satisfied to be the rose of your day--to give off my fragrance for -you.” - -He could not have shaken her off had he tried, so overwhelming was her -wish to give him that for which he would not ask. He sat perfectly -still, looking down into her eyes, listening to what she said. His -breath came harder when she lifted to her knees on the hassock and -leaned against him. - -“Jack told you to see that I was happy. I cannot be so while you are -unhappy, John. Think of me and take me in your arms. Let me feel that -I belong to you--that at last I _belong_.” - -“That first day I saw you, Dolores----” His white lips again moved -in words. “Two visible creatures seemed to be born of our meeting. -The best of me went out to you--my love. The best of you appealed to -me--your innocence. Help me to see them plainly as on that day. Remind -me of your inexperience. Don’t urge yourself upon me. For the sake of -your innocence and my love, loose me and leave me.” - -But confusing sensations dulled the girl to his prayer--sensations of -vehement rebellion, of incompleteness within sweet proximity of all, of -a vast sadness and vaster joy. She shook with the shudder that shook -him. Her hands drew his head to a resting place where the robe had -fallen from her breast. She felt him relax in her arms; realized that -his lips had touched, then drawn away from hers, as if offended by the -contact. - -“God help me.... More than my honor.” - -She scarcely heard his words, so low were they rasped. The next moment -he spoke plainly, although in a hoarse, hurried voice. - -“Who do you suppose made the law that I am trying to obey? To be born -with passions like mine, to hold them in leash all my life because -of the righteous hope my mother taught me of this moment and you, -then to try to convince myself that it is all a lie for which I have -lived--that love is less than law---- If God Almighty made it----” - -“No. Man must have made that law,” the girl interrupted. “Don’t you -feel, John, that love is right? I don’t know God, but I know you. Can’t -you believe that way in me?” - -“_Dolores!_” With worshipful reproach, he gave her the vow she asked. -“With my mind, my heart, my body I believe in you. I always shall -believe.” - -Wonderingly he looked at her lips; saw on them for the first time a -smile. Timidly yet bravely, it rewarded and further tempted him. - -“Then kiss me. Then love me,” she panted. “Oh, I want so to kiss -you--to love you. I didn’t know how much until----” - -A strand of her hair fell across the smiling lips--across temptation. -Although so tenuous and soft, it was a barrier between him and that -from which he had plead to be saved. His hand shook from his hurry -to brush it aside. The more greedily for its interference, his lips -lowered to those lips that were tempting him; sank to them; found the -complete answer they had sought in vain to speak. - -Dolores’ body was lifted into an embrace which would have been cruel, -except for her desperate response. Her long hair drifted about them, -a curtain from the light. Increasingly she felt that new sense of -incompleteness, that weight of sadness and lightness of joy. Shaking -from the violence aroused by her yearnings, she yet clung as if to -gentleness. - -“How strange I feel,” she breathed. - -“You are my mate, Dolores.” - -Again: “I did not know--did not understand that love was like this.” - -And again he reassured her: “You are my mate.” - -“But is this what they felt for me, those other men? I hated them for -it. I blamed them.” - -“No.” He deprived her lips of his that his eyes might blaze the -indignant denial into her eyes. “Their passion was lust. Yours is the -fragrance of the rose--the pollen of your love. Do not fear that I -could misunderstand.” - -“Fear? If God made the rose, why fear?” she half-sobbed. “If it is not -lust for you to love me, give me back your lips. Oh, kiss me, John. Oh, -love me. I _belong_.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -“I cannot tell more to-night. I cannot make it snappy. I _cannot_ go -on.” - -The tortured protest of the spirit-girl Dolores was as the breath of -a blower to her demon audience. It fanned the tinder of their evil -imaginations and inflamed their desires for intimate details. - -A clamor of profanity arose as the marble-pale, but fervid face which -had wrought such grief among men lowered to the shield of hands -that looked too weak to have torn to bits a strong man’s honor. The -shudder of crucified modesty caused the jewel-like lights that adorned -her hair, her throat, her breast to wink, as from carnal thoughts -“indestructible” as their source of life. - -For several nights the first Royal Entertainer had held her place at -the monk-table’s head by virtue of a two-fold charm; had dazzled their -eyes with her beauty and the illusion of her gorgeous apparel, while -enslaving their attention with the finished style of her tale. Now -that she had reached what might be considered a low spot of intensity, -however, her sense of the artistic had failed her and them. She had -fallen from the superiority of her infernal state; and backslid, as -it were, into the slough of an almost human self-consciousness. When -their most venomous hisses did not lift the sin-dark head from the -board, they turned as one to him who had arranged the little inside -entertainment. Interest of another kind stirred in them at the look of -him. - -Exasperation had lifted the King from his chair. He stood at the -table’s foot, glaring down at the proselyte who had dared to arouse, -then deny his emotions. A glow surrounded him, outlining his superb -proportions against the black velvet hangings. From his eyes--nearer -green than gray at the moment--poured a baleful light. His features -worked from mental lasciviousness. - -“I told you to dispense with the asterisks,” he reminded her. “How dare -you tease me with this obsolete trick?” - -Dolores lifted her face. In the radium glow of his vicious expectations -it gleamed with unthinkable chastity. - -“I have not meant to tease or trick you,” she said. “I have done my -best to entertain--have plotted and planned my story like the writer -of a book--have rehearsed my lines each day like an actress before -her opening night. Every little treasured phrase and word I have -given you, just as learned by heart at the time and re-learned in my -afterthoughts. I’ve tried--_tried_. But I find that I cannot go on. No -true woman-soul could. What happened was between ourselves and----” - -“Watch your words! For the infidel you boast yourself, you’re quite -too free with the name of a certain Potentate. Besides, aren’t you -flattering the Great-I-Am? I miss my guess if what happened wasn’t -between yourselves and me.” - -Dolores’ timidity left her at the suggestion. “I am sure Your Lowness -had nothing to do with--with that night. Otherwise it would not seem -so wrong to tell it here--such an injustice to John. The fault was not -his. It was mine--all mine. I did what he implored me not to do. I -urged myself upon him beyond his strength. The only excuse for me is -that, with all I had known of mortal man, I really did not understand. -And he--he had felt so safe in his sorrow.” - -Half-rising, she clutched the table for support and gazed along the -double file of spectral faces. The leer on the lips of him nicknamed -Old Original aroused her to further defense. - -“Perhaps our mateship was not meant to be gainsaid. Perhaps the races -of the mortal world would be worthier their fair lands if right were -not made wrong by mortal laws--if only the Maker whom John questioned -need be obeyed. Perhaps He meant that the crave to be satisfied of all -true love should compensate for His inexorable law that man must die.” - -At the shriek of derision that greeted her thought, she lifted her head -and eyes in a transport of humble defiance. - -“Whatever the perhaps and perhaps, I do not regret. The proof of what -I felt for John I never shall regret. If I did wrong it was in caring -for him and that I could not help. Love’s first and best impulse is to -bestow. I knew that I belonged to him and I wanted him to know. I am -glad--_glad_ that I told him. The way I gave the knowledge was called a -crime--the only crime on earth not judged by motive and circumstance. -Surely on that Day when justice becomes absolute, I shall not be -blamed. What is a whispered confession, a lingering kiss, an abandoned -embrace, to be quibbled over by Him said to have made us and all that -we are from the impulse of love divine? Did not He Himself decree that -love must be served?” - -“She-fiend, you overstep yourself!” - -The lash of His Majesty’s voice convinced the girl-soul. Whipped by it -back into her chair, she awaited the chastisement which probably would -follow her regardlessness of rules. Thoughts of the Wantons’ Well and -the Ward for Bastard Babes subdued her small access of courage in the -dread which had come with her from Earth to Shadow Land. She closed her -eyes; ceased to breathe; expected. The pause seemed long; was long. - -When finally the Rex of Reversals spoke, his humorous tone and diction -made her realize that until then she had expected clemency. - -“Hard to beat, this faith of fools! At least, the Great Judge of whom -you hope a reprieve from the fiat of your world hasn’t any corner on -tolerance. Although love is a puny motive, I excuse a lot of it for -sake of the passion it begets. Young woman, your story interests me. -Since so large an audience has disconcerted you, suppose you finish it -to sympathetic me alone. It is hate divine that must be served and you -who must serve it.” - -Dolores’ moan went unheard in the instant protest of the demon cabinet. -But their controller did not trouble to repeat his order. Not so much -as a gesture or nod of dismissal did he vouchsafe as they, not daring -to vent their spleen over being excluded from this culminating séance, -filed out one by one. - -Although several times before Dolores had been alone with His Highness, -she never had feared as now the Evil Mind. Her face returned to her -palms. In darting speculation over what he next might say or do, she -awaited his displeasure. Unendurably the silence lasted. She at last -glanced up from morbid curiosity. - -He was not looking at her. The green glow, so weird from his gray -eyes, shafted well to one side and past her. She noticed that he was -at once unusually attractive because unusually repulsive to-night. The -concentration into which he had sunk drew out of her like a magnet a -certain sympathy for the very evil he would do her. She shuddered in -ghoulish anticipation. - -More slowly lagged the seconds. More unnatural it seemed that still he -did not look at her. Had there remained in his mind a shadow of Old -Sam’s suggestion that he had a weakness for her? Doubt of what might -lurk in his averted eyes obsessed her. - -“Why don’t you speak? Why don’t you look at me?” she urged aloud. -“Please look at me.” - -She would better have remained in doubt. To see what was in his eyes, -to try to grasp the odious meaning of the glance now fixed upon her---- - -As she swayed backward in her chair, he proceeded to enlighten her. - -“I get it.” - -“_It_, Your Majesty?” - -“It--you--the secret power that has made you the desire of men and -devils. Who would have thought to look at you that it was only a case -of lust beget lust?” - -“Oh, don’t say that!” - -He leered. “Why a pretense of apology between two bad ones like us? -Instead of protesting virtues of which you ought to be ashamed, -realize that your guilt as charged makes your desirability -one-hundred-per-cent-plus down here, as it did on Earth.” - -Evidently not interested in her agreement, he turned away and began to -pace the floor. - -“This has been a red-letter night to me. Do you know, you’re not -telling a good story--not good at all. It has elements that quite hold -me. We’ve had the vamp in books, over the footlights and on the screen. -I thought I knew the types and methods forward and backward--especially -back. But your delineation of a young girl who is without design -because herself unconscious of the prurience in her, who appeals to -the best in men by her guilelessness and the worst by her sleeping -desire, who, although intending well, spreads disaster in her wake---- -No matter what its claims to truth, sweet Grief, it makes a damned bad -story.” - -He stopped directly before her in time to hear a murmured appeal to her -guardian companions. - -“Innocentia, must I believe these dreadful things about myself? If they -are not true, help me to prove them false, dear, _dear_ Amor.” - -Approvingly the Satanic chuckle sounded. “Consistent to fanaticism in -your part! As you like. But let’s get to the end. Forget the asterisks. -Pull up the curtain. Give us the expurgated lines.” - -“If I am fanatic in my desire to be decent, you are an atheist. I tell -you I cannot--will not go on!” From strength of her abhorrence the -spirit-girl started up and faced him. “Punish me as you like. Anything -is better than to strip my soul to your unholy gaze.” - -“_Anything?_” He seized her arm with the sear of a red-hot iron. “I’ll -give you one second to fête your fancy upon what your punishment might -be. You’ll pay in full, you helliot, if you cheat me of an experiment -that I plan to make. You’ve given me an idea more seducing than any of -my own inception. If it works out, it will net you more than it will -me. Come a day, you being what you are and I what I am----” - -“I wish to hear no new ideas for me. I cannot endure more to-night.” - -At her sustained effort to combat his will he leaned so close over her -that her face felt scorched from his mental insistence, more offensive -than the physical insistence of any man of Earth. She struggled toward -her chair; there fell face forward on the board. He--without looking, -she saw--swept after her like some ravening bird of prey. Strong, long -talons clutched her. Almost had they shaken her access of strength from -her when---- - -“Better let up on her, Your Demnition Pow-Wows.” - -A carping voice offered the advice. A tall, strong-looking ghoul -swaggered into the light from the comparative darkness outside the door. - -“Sin, you infernal eaves-dropper, how dare you----” - -“Leaves-dropper, rather--table-leaves-dropper.” With incredible bravado -Old Original winked into the Balial glare. “May I assume the compliment -to my invisibility that you failed to notice me humbly awaiting Your -Damnity’s convenience without?” - -“Impudently awaiting My Damnity’s inconvenience, you mean. You may -_not_. That I didn’t notice you was due to the super-visibility of our -royal _raconteuse_.” - -“Who will recount no more if you continue to torture her. Having -recommended her to your inclemency in the first place, I feel more -than less responsible. The wages of sin are best paid by death--you’ll -concede that to me, Excellency? Yet you do not, I am sure, wish her to -die.” - -“Low-brow, she cannot die.” - -The old hoax returned a confident leer. “That I grow more high-brow -with every age let me demonstrate through a reminder of how the -greatest roughness is the gentlest. What diverts you in her--her very -virile hope--may die before that Day. Am I right or wrong in saying -that you owe me, if not her, some consideration?” - -“Wrong you are. You did throw me the acorn from which a giant oak may -grow.” - -“And hasn’t she sirened you along bad and improper? Hasn’t she been -square with you?” - -“Yes, she’s been square. There wasn’t a right angle to all the past -Delilahs ever damned by man or me.” - -Sin, with a wary eye fixed upon the Master of Malice, made for that -end of the monk-board nearer the exit. The while he further ventured: -“It isn’t necessarily lowering to Your Highness to say that you have -more to learn than I anent the siren act. You can’t bully a dame into -doting on you. The present-day caveman style is 40 H. P.--_after_ -you’ve got her. Before, a wise one coaxes her. And it isn’t enough to -load her down with that stage jewelry of which you’re so prodigal, when -you yourself don’t look to be, any more than you act to be, of her day -and degeneration. Why not tog yourself up more in the likeness of this -millionaire love-hound of hers? Summertime’s coming apace or I’m no -weather prophet, so why not moth-ball the well-known Vandyke and those -robes of the vintage of Sol-in-all-his-glory days?” - -A snarl of stabbed vanity greeted the daring suggestion. Its cogency -was demonstrated, however, when, in a lunge after the purveyor of -unsolicited counsel, the King tripped over his train. - -From the hall the minister primed his advices. - -“As for your technique, soft-pedal yourself. Don’t keep blaring like a -brass band at a lady who has fainted with fear of your noise.” - -The slam of the door was the old impertinent’s period. - -Once more tormentor and tormented were alone. Slowly the Past-Master -of Policy righted himself and his intent. Returning to the prostrate -girl-shade, he thinkingly regarded her. Her side face lay lax upon the -board, exquisite as an irradiated cameo in its twisted setting of hair. -Closed were those eyes of the purples of the bourgainvillae. Not a -breath lifted the luring lines of the back revealed by her _décolleté_. -Could her spirit really have swooned beyond his reach? - -He shrugged away the thought. Too often and too vehemently had he -himself longed for surcease from consciousness in the last ten thousand -years or so. Too well he knew that she still could hear him. Through -time which had no beginning and could not end, she as well as he must -continue to think--and think--and think. - -Thinking of her now as he looked, he felt more than before attracted -toward that new idea regarding her which had been inspired by the -latest chapter of her earth history. The oldest Original was right. -His ways with women were archaic as his clothes in the sight of this -most modern of Magdalenes. No repression of his ruthlessness or change -in his “style” would be too great a price to pay for success in that -experiment. - -When he spoke it was in mild tones. - -“Forgive my stupidity. ‘It ain’t inherited--it’s a gift.’ All right, -fairest fiend. We’ll call it a séance to-night. Or better, suppose -I give you a lift over the scene which has overwhelmed you with -self-consciousness. At that, it may affect me worse to tell it myself. -They say the narrator gets more out of his story than his hearers. He -first must feel to arouse feeling. A good bad idea. So then, _I’ll_ -tell _you_.” - -The tips of his fingers crackled as he touched them to his lips, then -waved them toward the unresponsive audience. - -“Behind the Asterisks!” he announced his subject. “The Great-I-Am -invented the sex-impulse in order to give life to love. Necessarily He -had to make it a strong emotion in order to people His earth. - -“I invented loveless lust to people Hell. None born of the flesh dares -deny his vulnerability. None but feels its basic attraction, even at -times when most repulsed. Not to its cruder phases do I invite your -attention--to the reproductive instinct of the mortal male. That is -ever awake, unashamed, engaging chiefly through its strength. - -“But sleeping passion! Too few are given the dear delight of arousing -it. To breathe open the eyes searching through their mist of dreams--to -kiss into consciousness the sweet-thick lips--to feel one’s sluggish -pulse speeding to match the beat of youth’s startled heart---- - -“Ah, what man-brute of Earth, what god of Heaven or fiend of Hell -would not gladly give the wealth of three worlds to incite the divine -awakening! - -“Moved beyond modesty, the arms uplift and cling--weak-strong arms, -made supple to curve around the bodies of babes. The lips soon learn -why they are so thick and honey-sweet, soon learn to give and to ask -back in double dole. - -“The inarticulate murmur of yearnings that crave utterance, but are -ashamed of words.... The sobs of utter innocence.... The tender form -that seems to shrink even as it seeks.... At last the naked desire.... -Its brief, breathless struggle to control.... The delirium of yielding -to its will.... - -“The hoping fear.... - -“The fearing hope....” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -The works of the old Cabot clock were worn out. During the days and -nights that followed its last tick Dolores often glanced up into its -non-committal face, reproachful that it would no longer mark off the -minutes. Time dragged, weighted by her doubt over the state of mind of -John. - -Then, one night after twelve, when all the household was asleep, he -came back to her. He folded her against his heart. He took her lips. He -claimed her with full acknowledgment of his dependency. - -“God forgive me,” he said. “It is too much for me.” - -There was no need for him to explain. His white face, the pound of his -heart against hers, his inconsistent pleas for pardon that he might be -free to sin again, all helped her to understand. He was possessed by -the passion of an all-demanding love. He had fought a fight; had fought -and had failed. - -And Dolores could not lament his defeat. Only one thing mattered, that -John’s love answered hers. She had called and he had heard. Against -his will he had come. Their acknowledgment, then, had not been a -regrettable impulse; had been, rather, what was to be. They loved, and -Heaven was in their hearts. They _loved_. - -After the days of doubt, Dolores rested in blessed conviction. Never -before had she been given a chance at happiness. Here was her chance. -Suggestions of smiles formed about her lips. A new light, like the -gleam from deep-cut amethysts, shone from her eyes. A man like John -Cabot did not love lightly. And John Cabot loved her. - -Next morning she awoke with the wish that her father might know how -well all was with her. Although a drizzling rain began to fall, she -decided against ordering Jack’s car. She preferred to go to Trevor -Trent simply, as they had lived, changed only by the glory from within. -She felt close to him while donning, for the first time in weeks, the -old blue serge suit whose purchase price he had spared from the poppy -paste. The long ride up-town in the Subway, the mudded walk and the -plain slab that marked the spot where she had left him to lie beneath -down-drifting leaves, brought her nearer. - -Where is there comfort like confiding a rapturous secret to one’s own? -How long the orphaned girl sat beside the grave, oblivious of the rain -because her consciousness had gone to find and gladden that of the -parent whose last “please God” had been that she find a good love--how -drenched was the blue suit--how chilled her feet--she subtracted none -of her attention from him to realize. The adventure brought her content. - -Sometime during the afternoon she returned to the great house on the -upper Avenue. So dulled she felt to outer perceptions that surprise -held her only a moment to meet the Frenchwoman, Annette, in the -elevator. She somehow forgot to listen to the maid’s explanation of -why she had not remained with madame. Later she was forced to hear -Morrison’s insistence that she needed a doctor, but made light of the -good woman’s anxiety. What mattered a slight fever or swollen tonsils -or a disinclination toward food to one blessed as was she? - -As developed, however, these symptoms mattered much in the heightening -of her happiness. The housekeeper’s responsibility, transferred to -Bradish, resulted in a telephoned message to Mr. Cabot’s club. Soon -after the wire, he came, terrified out of all proportion to her -trifling symptoms. To see that all his instructions were carried out, -he stayed. - -Dolores’ protestations soon ceased, since to relieve his anxiety might -take him away again. It was too precious to forego, this experience of -being ministered to by him. Their first meal alone together, which he -ordered served in Jack’s living room much as the youngster himself -might have done, was an occasion almost too significant for calm. To -please him, she tried to sip her broth and eat her toast, but with the -sacred joy of a convert at some sacrament. - -After he had shut out the servants and advised Morrison that he would -sit awhile with Miss Trent, he wrapped her first in a robe, then in -his arms and sat rocking her with a possessive tenderness which made -her realize how much she had missed from her babyhood. Her ecstasy of -content must have dulled her ears. She heard no sound, merely assumed -one, when he placed her in Jack’s reading chair, took a few steps -toward the hall door and stood intently listening. Still she had heard -nothing when he strode to the door and flung it wide. - -Upon the threshold, in a panic of indecision between flight and -remaining, stood Annette. Her eyes, nondescript except for their -shrewdness, followed the thinking glance of the man who had surprised -her from the half-light of the corridor to the strong one of the -reading-lamp within, then down to the key-hole, minus its key. -Evidently, she decided on bravado. A sneer drew down the corners of her -mouth. She straightened to face the master. - -“You back?” he asked. - -“Madame finds herself in need of certain dinner gowns. She returned me -to select and pack them.” - -“She sent you back from Florida to select and pack certain dinner -gowns? Just what does madame pay you for the job?” - -“Does not Mr. Cabot know the amount of my salary, none too large for -one who has served----” - -“I mean how much for this key-hole job?” - -At his contemptuous interruption, the woman caught her breath. - -“Five-hundred-dollar, m’sieu.” - -“A five-hundred-dollar bonus? Madame is good to you. However, I am in -a position to be better. I’ll advance that bonus to-night, if you’ll -leave her employ.” - -Her avaricious watch of his face eased in a disappointed laugh. “Does -m’sieu think I would turn the traitor to a mistress who has ever been -most generous and who trusts----” - -“I do.” - -“And for a wretched five hundred, already earned?” - -“I do not--not for five hundred.” He contributed a short laugh. “But -for that in cash, plus a check for one thousand, good in six months -if you neglect to report to this trusting mistress who has been so -generous with you.” - -“But how can M’sieu Cabot think so low of me that for a paltry -thousand-dollar----” - -“The five hundred you get now,” he detailed. “The check for a thousand -will be dated so that you can cash it in June, unless traitoring has -become a habit with you. If it does, I shall stop payment at the -bank. You will leave this house and Mrs. Cabot’s employ at once. -Satisfactory?” - -The click of the last-word question must have satisfied the maid that -she could profit no further. - -“Quite,” she replied, succinctly as he. - -Without comment on the fact that he had read her aright, John Cabot -counted five century notes from his wallet and drew the promised check, -calling her attention to the date, six months from that day. - -When she had gone he said to Dolores: - -“I want my freedom, but not at your expense.” - -“You really think,” the girl faltered, “that that is why Annette is -here?” - -He nodded. “And why you are here and why I should not be. I have been -inexcusable. _I_ am the traitor--the waster of what I valued most.” - -“Don’t keep saying that,” she protested. “Nothing can be wasted when we -love. Jack lived and died that we might know.” - -Through the gloom of self-reproach which was settling over -him--settling between them--he saw her outstretched hands; caught them; -was reminded of her feverish state. - -“Dear, it will come right,” he made effort to assure her and, with her, -himself. “We mustn’t allow anything to be wasted, not a moment of our -time together, not a regret for the innocence which I should have died -rather than----” - -Her smile stopped him--the shy, tremulous, revealing smile so lately -learned. Had a dew-wet violet along a woodland path looked up at him, -he could not have trod upon it. He must not tread upon that smile. - -He returned to his delightful care of her. His first and most important -obligation was to see that she did not become ill, he told her. She -must rest now; must sleep off her temperature. He rang for Mrs. -Morrison; agreed that their charge might be put to bed in Jack’s -four-poster; himself suggested that the Airedale be allowed upstairs to -snuggle at her feet. And when the housekeeper had finished her motherly -offices, he made her no explanation of why he still sat reading in the -outer room. - -Not since the slight ailments to which all children are heir had -Dolores been ill. Shivering into the eider-down of the historic bed, -she felt vaguely wretched, uncertain, lost. From the same impulse -which had asked the reward of a good-night kiss from Morrison for her -tractability, she now asked John: - -“You won’t go away?” - -“Leave the corridor door ajar, Morrison.” As if from afar she heard his -instructions. “Come up again when it is time for her medicine. And, -Morrison, I have discharged Mrs. Cabot’s maid. She is to leave as soon -as she can pack her things.” - -Dolores grew warmer, then uncomfortably warm. She must soon have fallen -into a doze. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the night lamp had -been clicked off and the light from the living-room shaded from her -face by a screen. The four, tall, pineapple sentinels guarded her--they -and someone else. - -John sat beside the bed, the puppy drowsing in his arms. She was glad -that he had become reconciled to the poor little beast; that the -guiltless cause of Jack’s death was not to pay the price which she had -paid in early life for an equally unintentional fault. - -But _was_ John reconciled? - -The look on his face brought her to acute consciousness. It was a -dreadful look. - -“Try not to begrudge the price,” she murmured. “For the least thing in -life you have to pay, you know. To me, love is inestimable.” - -At sound of her voice the young dog lifted one of his scraggly eyelids, -and, without otherwise moving, thumped his stub of a tail. John’s -expression changed. He leaned toward her. - -“I shouldn’t regret any price that I myself could pay. But I am not -satisfied to let you, who can’t afford it, pay for me. And I won’t.” - -She did not understand just what he meant. “You talk as though you were -guilty of----” - -He caught her hand and pressed his cheek against it. - -“Guilty as--Heaven!” he whispered into its palm before replacing it -beneath the coverlet. At her disturbed look he added: “I am tired with -anxiety for you. Won’t you sleep to rest me? Don’t be afraid that I am -going to leave you. I can stay on this watch of love forever, if only -you will sleep.” - -“John--John?” Vaguely she questioned him. - -“You are my mate,” he answered. “Rufus called you a gray dove, but to -me you are pure white. Fold your wings and sleep.” - -“And are you happy, John?” - -“Happy as----” - -Her eyelids closed at the touch of his lips. Happy as who? She -wondered. Happy as Cain--that was the meaning of the dreadful look -she had surprised. But she had banished that look. Since she must -sleep that his mind might rest---- How wonderful was this state called -happiness. How precious was each small opportunity to prove how very -much---- - -“Fold your wings, my white dove,” he murmured again and again. “Sleep, -my mate. I love you. Sleep.” - - * * * * * - -A hysterical yelp awakened her. Evidently the Airedale, too, had been -startled from sound slumber. How long had she been asleep--for how many -minutes or hours had John Cabot sat there motionless, his eyes on her -face? - -She raised on one elbow and looked into the outer room. The little -undergraduate from the A. K. C., more from hereditary instinct than any -wisdom of his own months, had bolted his bed of honor. One backward -glare he spared to learn whether he was to be justified in raising the -alarm; then, bristling from stiff chin whiskers to flag-staff tail, -rushed into the corridor. His master followed. - -Dolores tried hard to understand. Her head felt strange and -understanding hurt it. Many sentences of the colloquy outside were not -clear at the time, but came back to her afterward. Besides the voice -of John Cabot, she recognized the distressed _mezzo_ of Morrison, the -startled quaver of old Bradish and an unrecognized duet in bass. - -“We are all of that, Mr. Cabot--from the Domestic Detectives, -Incorporated,” sounded the first strange voice, evidently in answer to -some question or comment from John. - -“And just in time, at that”--the second. - -“Has Annette gone yet, Morrison?” - -Bradish answered John’s question. “I let her out not ten minutes ago, -sir.” - -“Did you see her speak to these men?” - -“She did not pass near enough to speak to them, sir. But I think she -signaled them with a gesture. I cannot be sure.” - -One of the strangers interrupted. “You can’t deny that Miss Trent is -inside.” - -“I deny nothing, but I do order you out of my house,” John returned. - -“Don’t you owe it to yourself to explain, Mr. Cabot?” asked Morrison. -“I’ve worked in this family all my life and am considered a proper -woman. The young lady you ask about is seriously ill. Mr. Cabot is here -because my father, the butler, telephoned for him.” - -“Ill, is she?”--the first strange voice. “Well, we’re specialists sent -to investigate her symptoms. Here, matey, help me ease this gent away -from the door. No need for strenuous argument when we’re two to his -one.” - -“Look out--a gun!”--the second. - -“And a gun,” John added quietly, “trained to put burglars out of my -house.” - -“We’re not burglars, Cabot. We’re authorized to enter by the lady of -your house.” - -“By Mrs. Cabot? Her authorization can’t help you--from the distance of -Palm Beach.” - -Together the two laughed. One explained their amusement. - -“Wifie isn’t in Palm Beach, old chap. She’s waiting down at the Plaza -to give us any further authority we need over the telephone.” - -“She--didn’t--go?” - -A moment of silence followed John’s slow question; then, in staccato---- - -“Well, get your further authority over an outside ’phone. Mine are -busy. Quick, now--my fingers are nervous. I’d be well within my rights -if I----” - -A grumbled sentence which Dolores could not hear ended in steps -descending the stairs. The colloquy seemed to be ended. She felt -relieved; dozed off. - - * * * * * - -The morning was half over before John enquired about her condition over -Jack’s telephone. He felt that he must tell her certain facts, not so -much to worry her as to spare her worry over matters which undoubtedly -soon would be forced upon her attention. He hoped that listening -would not tax her, since the physician’s morning report had been most -encouraging. A little patience, a few days within doors, and she would -be herself again. His relief she could better imagine than he describe. - -If his friend Rufus Holt called to see her, she was to talk to him -as she felt inclined and might trust his advices. Toward any other -inquiries regarding her personal affairs she should not commit herself. -For some time he would not be able to see her and considered it best -that he should get his news of her through Morrison. She must take all -possible care of herself and believe that nothing--_nothing_ had been -wasted. - -Scarcely had Dolores hung up the receiver, scarcely had given her mind -to the realization that John Cabot was trying to protect her from -whatever it was that threatened, when the gallery door opened and -Clarke Shayle strode into the room. - -He looked flushed, hurried, perturbed. He stopped before Jack’s reading -chair, in which she sat, and fixed his odd-flecked gaze upon her, his -lips twitching. Sinking on the hassock, he laid his face in the robe -that wrapped her knees and drew a rasping, relieved sigh. - -“I was a fool to credit a word of it,” he exclaimed brokenly. “You -really are sick. You really are--are everything I believed. I don’t -care what she says or what anybody says. I wouldn’t care even if they -could prove it. What a man thinks himself is the only thing that -matters. And I’ve got a sort of super-think.” His attempt to banish -emotion from his face with a grin was more ghastly than gay. “You see, -it ain’t inherited. It’s a gift.” - -Even in this crisis, he could not express himself without the use of -his banal phrases. Dolores felt sorry for him. She stretched out her -hand from an impulse to smooth back his stiff, auburn cowlick; then, -remembering, drew it back. - -“What ‘she’ and what ‘anybody’ says?” she asked. - -“She sent for me this morning and told me all about last night. I -believe she had the whole thing planned from first sight of you. She’s -the only wholly bad woman I’ve ever known--Catherine.” He shaded his -eyes as if confused by her shocked glance, then continued: “She loves -herself and hates everyone who does not share the feeling, chiefly her -husband. Because he has humiliated her by getting her number right, -she intends to humiliate him before their world. She’s going to marry -d’Elie after she gets all she wants out of Cabot and gets it her own -way. As for me----” - -His face lowered into his freckled, delicate hands. A shudder moved his -thick neck and muscular back. - -“God knows, I deserve the part she’s cast me for. But I pray Him--I -pray you to let me off. My self-respect was only doped. It came to the -day I met you and has made me so unhappy since that I--I hope---- Oh, -have a heart, little chump! Help me to be honest with you--encourage me -to explain.” - -“Why? Why not?” She hesitated. - -“_Why?_ Because I owe it to you to make you understand. _Why not?_ -Because you have made me despise myself and my life. Here in your -presence, at the present moment, I’d rather die than go on. And yet, -I’ll worse than die if I don’t go on. Dolores, you have felt something -of my power--you know that I’m mesmeric and hypnotic. You know that -I know it, but not that I have used it to make me what I am to-day.” -He gave a limping laugh. “Can’t you imagine what is my professional -stock-in-trade--how I hold Catherine and her sort in scented boudoirs?” - -“No--_no_.” With her low protest, the girl drew back into her chair; -clutched its arms; closed her eyes, as if against the perception. - -From his abject position at her feet, the young man straightened and -clasped together his hands so viciously that nails cut into flesh. The -white spots pressed by his teeth into his lower lip spread backward -until even his ears were pale. - -“That’s the worst of it,” he said effortfully. “The best is that I -could have roused you, could rouse you now. But I won’t. I know the -tinder you are made of. That first day I realized that my self-respect -was only auto-hypnotized, not dead. The feeling for you that -restrained me has grown--has given me the strength to tell you the -truth and ask your help.” - -“But if you despise yourself and your life,” Dolores faltered, “why not -help yourself?” - -“Don’t you know that a bad habit soon masters one? The damnable -thing has got me, that’s why. It will take something stronger than -contempt for myself to get me out. That something is my respect for -you. The fact that I didn’t--that I simply couldn’t----” His fingers -forward-stretching, but clutching only air, his face again florid from -a return rush of blood, he urged: “You--I need _you_. God, I am mad for -you. Have been all along. But I want you to keep. I want you enough to -change my whole life to have you. I know I am a crude sort--that I’m -not what they call to the manner born. But I swear to give you a square -deal. I don’t care what they say about you. I believe in you. I want to -marry you--to take you off somewhere, so that you and I---- Surely you -love me, Dolores? Surely you will----” - -The pause was long. During it he seized her limp hand, then dropped it. -He staggered to his feet and stood looking down at her with the dread -gaze of despair. When he spoke again, his lips worked clumsily. - -“So. I’m too late. You’re a snuffed candle to me. That means--Mr. -Other Man. The reward of my sacrifice is--punishment. It’s a beautiful -sentiment. I’ll tell the world that. She was speaking the truth for -once, then, about you and John Cabot? All right. I quit. I’m through.” - -Dolores watched him fling into his overcoat, pick up his hat and start -for the door. She wished to say something that would help him. She owed -him consideration as the only man who had asked her to marry him. That -he had asked her soothed an ache in her mind. She liked him and she -feared for him. But what was there she could say? - -Without a word she had refused him. Without a word she let him go. - -The American vernacular “breezed in” might have been inspired by the -entries of Rufus Holt. Less boisterous than a gale, stronger than a -zephyr, something refreshing and promising came with him, like the -tonic in the breath of Spring. - -“Glad you’re enjoying a rest,” he saluted Dolores. “You need it, -probably, as much as you deserve it. Or perhaps I should say you -deserve it as much as you need it. It is a worthy thought, for it works -both ways.” - -The girl, having been foreadvised to trust the attorney, relaxed in his -balmy friendliness. - -“Doesn’t the truth usually work both ways?” - -At her offering he rubbed his bald fore-top. “I don’t know about that. -We lawyers learn not to expect too much of the truth. It has gone some -if it works one way.” - -The fact that he would not take off his top-coat gave each minute of -the time that he did stay an added value. That he would not smoke -somehow increased the fragrance about him of a fine cigar. That he gave -her choice of chairs for him the preference lent companionableness to -his manner of pulling up directly before her. - -“The future has in it lots and lots of trouble that hasn’t been used -yet,” he prefaced, suddenly grave, “and don’t think that you, lovely -little lady, are going to get all of it. There are other non-union -workers besides yourself.” - -“Others?” - -He evaded the question direct. - -Trouble was the text of his small address--trouble ahead of a kind -she had not known. She must prepare her mind for it; must gather her -resources against an attack. And another would be protected in the -protectorate of herself, one who deserved justification quite as much -as she. - -Meeting the silent, fluent appeal of her eyes, he set aside hyperbole; -before her placed facts, as if on the salver of his outspread hands. - -Catherine Cabot was an edition of womankind which Dolores doubtless -had found hard to read. Velvet-bound was she, gilt-edged, artfully -illustrated. The most astute of worldlings might remain unenlightened -for many chapters as to the plot of her. Spite, it would seem, was her -motivation--spite toward a husband who had depreciated what she was by -a deliberate and stubborn over-valuation. - -Long she had waited and watched to prove the plot of him as bad as -her own. Quite recently she had refused a separation because she -wished, not only a divorce, but a discredited husband and a huge, -decreed alimony, rather than a collusive settlement. Her engagement -of Dolores, her pseudo-kindnesses, her pretended dependence upon the -girl in her recent trip South--a trip that had taken her no farther -than Philadelphia and been followed by a secret return to a mid-town -hotel--were calculated steps toward this end. To-day she had served -upon her husband the complaint in a suit for absolute divorce. Dolores -Trent, grief now to one woman as to many men, she had named as -co-respondent. - -The dread announcement was made. - -Forgetting the hurry on account of which he had refused to smoke, Holt -now busied himself producing a cigar, clipping it and lighting it. -Through smoke-clouds he looked across at the notorious girl whom he had -whip-lashed with news of fresh notoriety. Seeing that her lips moved, -he leaned forward to catch her words. - -“Maybe she was not so bad as---- The idea was d’Elie’s. I mustn’t -forget that. _He_ suggested that the father of _l’enfant terrible_ -might find me congenial--not she. ‘Enough, my clever Henri. I -understand.’ I remember distinctly what she said.” - -In the midst of her shared memories, she became conscious of the -quality of the lawyer’s regard. Her eyes lifted to his. - -“You believe that I----” - -Perhaps the more staunchly for catching the sag in her voice, he sought -to reassure her. “I _know_ that you are guiltless. Do you recall the -little toast I gave you one night at dinner? I didn’t say on that -occasion that I’d been doubly favored by meeting your kind of a woman -twice in my lifetime--the woman who doesn’t need to boast or sparkle or -promise--the woman who needs only to be. The first one, Miss Trent, of -whom you reminded me, was my mother.” - -Dolores was startled. Always before she had suffered because unjustly -blamed. Now she was unjustly praised. She did not feel honest. But she -must be careful, even with the kindly attorney. She had John, as well -as herself, to think of. The fault was not so much his as hers and he -must not be blamed. - -“Then, too----” Holt had cleared the huskiness from his throat--“I know -John Cabot.” - -Evidently that, to him, was conclusive. - -By and by he added: “Even Mrs. Cabot does not think you guilty, as she -charges.” - -“How can you know that?” Again Dolores was startled. - -“She admitted as much to me not more than an hour ago.” - -“You have talked with her to-day and she admitted---- Then, perhaps, -she _can_ be reached?” - -But the bald head wagged, even as the friendly eyes beamed upon her. -“She cannot be reached as you mean, although I have reached her in a -way for which you may despise me. Mrs. Cabot has retained me as her -lawyer in this case.” - -“You--her lawyer?” The words were so hot, they seemed to scorch -Dolores’ lips. “I thought you were his friend?” - -“I am. But Catherine believes now that I have always cared--for her, -you know--and that therefore I want her freedom more than anything else -in the world. A vain woman can easily be persuaded of that.” - -Dolores could not understand. “You say you really are his friend, yet -you take Mrs. Cabot’s case against him? What possible motive----” - -“Me, too, you do an injustice, Miss Trent.” - -“You--too?” - -“Even me. I am taking the case to lose it.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -Before the divorce suit of Cabot vs. Cabot came to trial reassurance on -several of its vital points reached Dolores through the consideration -of Rufus Holt. To the greatest possible extent details were to be -denied the scandal-hungry public. John Cabot would offer his defense -through eminent counsel, as a case unworthy his personal appearance. -She herself, the co-respondent so necessary to the severance of marital -ties if one lives and sues in the Empire commonwealth, was to remain -for the present with Mrs. Morrison, reported as too ill to undertake -the vindication of her name. Roscoe Strang, the judge who was to pass -upon the Cabot difference, was a friend of Holt’s, indebted to him -for many favors, political and otherwise. The small attorney had seen -to that. Soon everything would be settled, as Mrs. Cabot’s case would -be advanced on the calendar on her plea that she wished to have the -painful affair over as soon as possible that she might hasten abroad to -undertake certain war-orphan charities to which she had pledged herself -in loving memory of her little son. - -Despite all these assurances, the girl awaited with keen anxiety a call -to a special conference with the plaintiff’s lawyer for which she had -been told to hold herself in readiness immediately after the public -hearing. Summoned one mid-February afternoon by special messenger, she -taxied according to instructions to a down-town “square” not far from -the City Hall Park that housed the courts of alleged justice. - -One glance at Rufus Holt through the folds of the veil she had been -asked to wear convinced her that this, indeed, was his first detour -from straight legal paths. Although he smiled in at her from the -opened cab door, much of the cheer and most of the youth was gone from -his face. After giving a low-voiced address to the driver, he seated -himself beside her and forced a return to his wonted sanguineness. - -No need for Dolores to ask in words whether the ordeal was -over--whether John Cabot had been vindicated of the charge. The moment -their machine was underway, her eyes put the demand. - -“Judge Strang reserved decision. But they always do that, as I -explained a short while since to my client,” answered Holt. “You and I -are going now to meet a friend of mine--just that, a friend of mine. In -the course of a day or so, the case will be decided--against me.” - -Under all the circumstances, his sigh was justifiable. Dolores was -beginning to realize that. The change in his face alone told her the -enormity of his sacrifice in laying professional honor upon the altar -of a man-to-man friendship. As the taxi wound its way up-town, he gave -her an idea of the proceedings. - -The beautiful Mrs. Cabot, an appealing picture in her sables and -crepe, had been, of course, her own chief witness. She had told of her -tried determination to believe in her husband and the girl whom she -had sheltered from storm-blasts which had seemed driving her to an -unthinkable fate. She had been slow--too slow to admit that any form so -young and fair could house such veteran vices. - -In broken sentences, as if warding off an emotional breakdown, she -had outlined the hold which the governess had won upon her own heart -through the heart of her only child. Not until after the boy’s death -had she brought herself to consider the suggestions of servants and -friends that all was not well within her household. When the doctors -had prescribed a change of climate for her, she had pretended to go -South, but with the idea of returning at once in order to determine -the truth for herself. Her maid, a French woman in whom she had felt -all confidence, she had sent on an errand back to the house to learn -late developments. While Annette was still within, her detectives had -followed her husband there. This maid evidently had been over-bribed, -for, after signaling the detectives that the moment was propitious to -enter, she had disappeared. That fact was stronger than any report -could have been as evidence against Mr. Cabot. - -All that she felt she needed to add to the testimony of the detectives -was the name of the Circe who had destroyed the good-faith of her -home. Would New York be surprised to hear this new chapter in the -unparalleled career of one already known as “Grief to Men”? - -“You let her name me in open court?” Dolores covered her veiled face -with her hands. - -“What did it matter when you had been named in the legal papers?” the -attorney reminded her. “I was able, however, to check her further -attempts to pay her respects to you by insisting that she need not -distress herself.” - -“And the--the defense?” - -“John had no defense that could be made in such a proceeding. His -attorney’s declaration that Mr. Cabot had nothing which he cared to -offer in the way of testimony may have convinced the crowd that you -were being used, either with or without your consent, to lift his yoke, -but it clearly puzzled the judge. Before we reach our destination, -Miss Trent, I want to express something of the high esteem in which I -hold you. Oh, don’t draw back--don’t look so frightened! This is no -declaration in the ordinary sense.” - -Removing his hat, he rubbed his egg-white forehead as though it were a -vocabulary from which words might be extracted by friction. - -“Never have I been in the plight called ‘love’--never expect to be,” he -continued. “In any case, never shall I marry. Maybe because I thought -so much of that mother o’ mine. Maybe because I think so little of -marriage. Can you see humor in the statement that women, while my -professional specialty, are not at all in my line personally? That fact -may help you to appreciate what I want to say to you.” - -He turned toward her with the combination of wistfulness and -whimsicality in his smile which first had attracted and then animated -the lonely girl. - -“Miss Trent,” said he, “I think you are the truest woman I ever have -met. I am obsessed by the thought of you. Oh, not you, really; rather -the idea you represent--the idea of absolute truth. A woman like you -should not fear the opinion of anyone. Will you remember that--say, -when lifting your eyes to those of the very next person you meet?” - -Dolores assured him that she would. At the same time, in her thoughts, -she assured herself. Just as the primary appetence common to all animal -life is the right to live, the second appetence common to women is the -right to love. She was not ashamed of her love when facing that inner -tribunal called Truth. Why, indeed, should she fear the opinion of any -man? Rufus Holt, despite the conventional limitations of his “ideas” of -her, was right. She would not, _could_ not feel ashamed. - -To a place no more official than the bachelor apartments of Justice -Roscoe Strang did Rufus Holt dare take the girl who was not his client. -And when a Japanese man-servant had ushered them both into the somewhat -sombre anteroom, he passed on into a library, but left the door behind -him ajar, evidently that she might overhear his conversation with his -friend. - -“You, Rufus?” - -“Yes, Roscoe, and about that case I tried before you this morning--the -Cabot divorce. I’m afraid that a wrong is being done.” - -A bass chortle sounded. “That’s what modern marriage is--doing each -other wrong.” - -“But this is a wrong gone wrong in that it does not strike right. I -have the Cabot co-respondent outside. I want you to meet her.” - -“Not the Trent girl?” The scrape of a chair underscored a muttered -oath. “You don’t dare presume on our friendship to--to----” - -“Not to commit a professional breach, no,” interrupted Holt. “You ought -to know me better than that. And don’t call her ‘the Trent girl.’ No -matter whose lawyer I am, I tell you that she does not deserve it.” - -“Then why didn’t she take the stand? It always looks bad for a woman -when she won’t fight for her good name. And why wouldn’t this great -philanthropist friend of yours say a word for her, not to mention -himself?” - -“John Cabot is too big a man to be dragged into a court defense of -the sort. And any man who hopes to meet his mother’s questioning eyes -in Paradise would hesitate to crucify this girl with any more vulgar -notoriety. Roscoe, for once in my life, the man in me has convinced the -lawyer. Now, as never before, I want the scales of the blind goddess to -weigh _with justice_.” - -“It would seem that one latter-day goddess must have been already -weighed--and with justice--to have made such gooseberry jam out of your -heart of flint. A face that can make _you_ forget to be a lawyer first! -I’d like to see----” - -Before “the friend” whom Holt wished her to meet could retract or -modify, Dolores was led into the larger room. She found that “that -very next person” to whose eyes she would lift her own was the judge -of the case of Cabot vs. Cabot. And while she did not remember--not -exactly--the compliment paid her in the cab, she met his shrewd gaze -with her own defense. He looked for the truth. He saw it--that she felt -no shame. - -What they said did not matter--probably could not have been recalled -by any of the three. Their brief chat was significant only through the -things they might not say. - -In Justice Strang Dolores saw a man who filled her with confidence. The -determination to know the worst about himself and conquer it showed in -the set of his jaw. His red necktie had action--even daring. His attire -otherwise, like his manner, was conventional. - -He escorted them into the hall and to the elevator. Just before -the door clicked shut upon them he said so emphatically that the -elevator-man turned and stared curiously at her: - -“Young lady, you have the most eloquent personality I have ever met.” - -And so it came about that the decision denying Catherine Cabot her -divorce came to the press as a thunder-clap two days later. The comment -that resulted Justice Strang met with interviews in which he put -unanswerable questions. Who suffered most, the innocent or the guilty? -To make the innocent suffer--was not that a culpable act? What had been -proved? The wife’s evidence was unavailable. The maid had disappeared. -The detectives could testify to nothing that was proof of guilt. Why -elect a judicial puppet? Of what use was a judge not entitled to -disregard everything except his own honest opinion? - -Thus it transpired that Dolores Trent, having been convicted unjustly -in the public mind of the several past offenses ascribed to her, found -herself vindicated of the one crime against Society of which she really -was guilty as charged. - - * * * * * - -Each morning a magnificent box from an Avenue florist was delivered -to the interesting occupant of a small, furnished suite in an -up-town apartment hotel. The regularity of the “attention” quipped -the management’s curiosity concerning “Miss Trevor.” Usually such -regardlessness was followed by a gentleman in a hired car, wearing a -fur-lined overcoat and a manner at once suave and impatient. But no -gentleman had shown interest in this lady since the apartment had been -engaged and paid for by one whose coat was most unpretentious and whose -manner was neither suave nor impatient--a pleasant-spoken, bald-pated, -breezy type of a man who somehow did not seem the sort to be telling it -daily “in flowers.” - -Dolores herself had to guess from whom they came, just as she assumed -John Cabot’s wish that she let him fulfill his promise to Jack “to -look after her” until such time as he thought wise to see her. Rufus -Holt, who had found and advised the new location, had made no -explanation. Even when he had closed her fingers around a roll of five -one-hundred-dollar bills, he had left her to assumption. - -But Dolores _knew_. And, knowing, she was in a way content. -Alone except for the Airedale puppy, who had greeted her more -vociferously than the rest of her luggage, she relaxed in her sense -of an all-protective love and tried to live on the significance of -deep-hearted pansies, American beauties and forget-me-nots. - -At the end of the fourth week a receipt was tucked under her -living-room door for the second month’s rental in advance. That it -was not for three months--or six--gave her a feeling of anticipation. -A month at a time meant that a change might be expected before the -third payment became due. With the expenditure of each dollar of her -cash-in-hand this feeling increased. Five hundred dollars was a very -great deal of money. But even five hundred would be consumed in time -by one healthy young woman and one fast-growing dog. An all-protective -love must realize that. Perhaps by the time the five hundred was -gone----. - -She had to fight her first impulses of extravagance. Her tendency was -to tip unwisely and too well, to order a superfluity of the disguising -veils she had taken to wearing on the long river-side tramps which were -the anticipation of the Airedale’s mornings and the reminiscences of -his puppy dreams at night; to let him grow too fat. Unable to decide -what name for the dog Jack’s old-young mind would have hit upon, she -continued to call him “puppy” or “pups,” as certain unimaginative -people she had known were satisfied with “kittie” for their cat or -“baby” for their child. - -Conscientiously allowing herself only legitimate expenditures, Dolores’ -gladness increased, as her roll of bills thinned, that it had not been -a thousand, seven hundred, or even six. It might so easily have been -more. Toward the end of the second month she felt hopeful--almost -sure--that the worst soon would be over. The very thought of it dizzied -her with happiness. To see him again, if only for a moment or two----. - -But she had to be satisfied with hearing his voice. Rung suddenly from -her sleep one night, she half believed his telephone call a dream -until the metallic sound of his up-hung receiver told her that the -opportunity was passed. Until morning she lay awake, fondling, one by -one, his carefully covered sentences. - -He had intended not to speak with her at present. But the wish had -conquered him to-night to hear her assurance that she understood. He -had been a criminal and must work out his sentence. Under a sacred -obligation to protect her, he had injured her at each attempt, from the -finale at the lingerie shop to her present exile. She had shown pity -for his weakness before and perhaps could forgive him now. He never -could himself. - -He had been overcome in the moment of his greatest strength, when he -had felt safe in his sorrow. Now, when weakest, he dared not tempt -himself. His only chance of reinstating himself in his own opinion was -to win the fight he had undertaken. Their loyal acquaintance would -explain. - -Meantime was she well and would she try to be contented until he could -force a change? And would she believe? - -That she did believe steadied Dolores through the discouragement of -another prepaid rent receipt. When the “change” came, it was not of -John’s enforcement. One afternoon Rufus Holt called on her. He came in -on the breeze that wafted him through life. His smile was still cheery, -his manner even more courteous than usual. Yet he was different. -Considerately he attempted to “explain.” - -The late chapters of that gilt-bound edition of womanhood, Catherine -Cabot, read like the cheapest of thrillers. Soon after reëstablishing -herself in her husband-less home, she had sent for Dr. Shayle. What had -passed between her and the likable young man whom she had “made” in -a week was best judged by the fact that she un-made him in a day. In -notes, over the telephone and during such informal social functions -as she could make excuse to attend in her mourning, she ruined him -professionally. To his rich practice she expressed her regrets that she -no longer could sponsor him--that his conduct with one who had brought -disgrace to so many had proved him an unfit person to have about the -home in his intimate capacity. All of which reminded Holt that he had a -letter for her. - -The envelope which he tendered was addressed to and had been opened -by John Cabot. Above the heading of a Chicago hotel was scrawled the -osteopath’s name. Inside was the request that Mr. Cabot forward to Miss -Trent the unsealed enclosure. - -The note to Dolores read: - - _Dear You_: - - My chief regret is having distressed you. Don’t be distressed about me - any more. Already my hurt is healing, salved by the honor of having - known you. I daren’t forget you, because remembering you is the best - thing in my life at the present moment. Have refused the last bribe - of her who made me what I was--yesterday. Am on my way West where I - can start fair with doctor men who use their powers to help instead of - hinder. The ambition, I find, is not a gift--it’s inherited. You great - little chump, there is only one hope in my heart--may you be happy. - - Dear Me. - -So then; to one, at least, she had not been a lasting grief! Dolores -felt very proud for herself and for Clarke Shayle. She turned to her -caller with the impulse to confide her good news, but hesitated at -the look of him. He had yielded to the Airedale’s importunities and -was scratching the stub ears. The eyes of the dog were rolling from -realized bliss. Those of the implement of bliss were troubled. She -could see that attorney Holt was planning whatever he had come to say. - -“Miss Trent,” he began on noting that he again had her attention, -“Mr. Cabot has been acting under my insistent advice in not coming -to see you. I know that he wishes to come. My stand is based upon my -high regard for him and, may I add, for you? He intends to accomplish -a divorce from Mrs. Cabot as soon as possible, but on his own -terms--terms primarily calculated to repudiate the slurs cast upon you. -His ruling desire is to save your good name. I want to see him carry -out this idea. Miss Trent, do you?” - -“Why--why, yes,” faltered the girl. - -“I am glad to hear you say that, because--Well, you and he, lovely -little lady, know better than I just why. His position is at present -extremely jeopardous. He is watched night and day by detectives.” - -“More detectives? But I thought----” - -“I did, too. Mrs. Cabot, however, has not accepted Judge Strang’s -decision as final. She has postponed her trip abroad and from Newport -is directing an attack on his integrity and mine. Through influence and -the manipulations of a brilliant shyster, she is trying to re-open the -case in another court. Meanwhile, she is acting on the theory expressed -in the old French proverb that ‘love and smoke are unable to conceal -themselves?’” - -Evidently love, at least, was not. With his white, slim hand Holt -shielded his eyes from sight of her face and continued: - -“More than before is the Cabot name threatened, your good name and -mine. Unless we are discreet she may have a case which just might -convince a judge less discerning than my friend Roscoe Strang and let -the Bar Association get its claws into me. If your whereabouts should -be chanced upon, if the florist should be inspired to tell of the daily -flowers paid for by the lawyer who lost Mrs. Cabot’s first case, even -if friend pup here should yap his identity abroad--Do you see, Miss -Trent, why my advice has been insistent?” - -After a keen glance at her he continued: “But I fear that my advice is -losing its punch. You see, I have an imagination. I know John Cabot and -I have seen you. Perhaps I haven’t made clear the absolute faith I feel -in both of you. Wish I could put it beautifully with all the words and -music. But we men weren’t meant to be gods in strength, you know. Why, -even I have a secret vice!” - -He smiled across at her youthfully; at her continued silence, added: - -“I wriggle my toes.” - -But the girl did not smile back. She couldn’t - -“What is it you wish me to do?” she asked. - -“I wish you to put yourself beyond reach. John’s weak spot is you. He -acknowledges it. He looks haggard and acts worse--is beginning to fear -that he can’t hold out. And, of course, with that fear in his heart, he -won’t. I wish you to remove his temptation--until matters are adjusted, -not to let him know your whereabouts and under no circumstances to -write to him. Even his mail may be watched--there can be traitors in -any man’s office--and nothing is so damning as written evidence.” - -“Oh, but I--he----” - -“Poor child.” Holt’s interruption expressed ever so much of his pity. -“Child first, then woman. You acknowledge that I am right, don’t you? -Then aren’t you willing to help him? Only you can help him now. John is -not a man to talk, as you know, but he knows that I am his friend. ‘I -have just strength enough to stay away,’ he told me. ‘I’m afraid that -if I saw her, if she called me by so much as a look----’ You see, Miss -Trent, the state to which the long strain has reduced him? You want him -to win his fight, don’t you, for sake of his future and your own?” - -“But you ask us to act like guilty persons,” she plead. “Judge Strang -said ‘not guilty.’ To me that means that what--whatever we feel for -each other is not guilt. If he is not guilty, then neither am I. Why -should I lower myself to the standards of the world--why should I hide?” - -“Because you are in the world and of it. I profess only a man’s -friendship for John Cabot. But to protect him I played a rôle which is -likely to ruin me professionally. He relies on me at present to look -after you. In the event of his demanding to see you it would be better -if even I did not know your whereabouts. I’d advise that you go to the -shore somewhere. Let my secretary know when you decide just where--you -can reach him by telephone--and your remittances will be sent regularly -through him. Come, lovely lady, what do you say? Is all John Cabot’s -strength to be discounted by his weakness for you?” - -Dolores leaned over a bowl of purple pansies that kept eyeing her from -a nearby tabourette; gazed into their ingenuous faces. - -“But he wouldn’t leave me without a word, I know. What would he -think--how would he feel if I----” - -“Only in the event of his weakening need he know. Have I impressed you -with the fact that once he begins to see you, he and I are done for? -You are a woman of whom I would have expected that self-sacrificing -passion with which a man’s friendship compares as a handshake to love’s -first kiss. Are you unwilling to seem to lose your case with him for a -little while?” - -He arose, found his hat and stood for a moment looking down at her. But -she looked only into the pansies’ hearts. A hopeful smile was on his -face as he turned. He nodded confidently at the Airedale, just before -closing the door, very quietly, after him. - -The puppy, a man’s dog, sat sniffing and whining at the sill for some -time after his congenial acquaintance had gone. But Dolores did not -bewail the attorney’s exit. With a fury strange to her, she resented -his call, his gentleness and the cruelty which it wrapped. - -What manner of friendship was his, smilingly to urge the torture of his -friend in order to save himself? Where was the worth of admiration that -demanded of a peccable human passion the blamelessness of one divine? -The pansies knew and she knew. But if John learned that she had hidden -herself away from him, how could he be expected to know? Love was -tender and easily hurt. - -Rufus Holt admitted that he never had loved; that he had only his -imagination to depend upon. How dared he, then, dictate to a woman whom -he had acclaimed true as truth? - -But that night a third voice entered the argument. - -As Dolores lay abed, wooing in vain the healthful slumber so seldom -denied her, she came to wonder whether the sensations which disturbed -her were all mental. Could she be physically ill? - -As, hour on hour, the wonder and the strangeness of the stirring within -her grew, answer came in a wee, small voice--the voice of fear--the -voice of hope--perhaps, indeed, the voice of that God said to speak -through “the least of these.” With none else to tell her, Dolores -understood. And in the darkness a great glory seemed to flood the -room. Her heart, which had slowed almost to stopping lest she miss the -message, near burst now with painful joy. - -The voice, faint and from far away, had whispered unmistakably: - -“_Woman, I am coming--thy fulfillment._” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -Dolores never sent her address to Rufus Holt’s secretary, although -she came in course of time to need the remittances which were to be -forwarded through him. She hated Holt and loved John too much for that. -Should that whisper in the night be heard by the world, the fight of -the strong would indeed be lost to the weak. There was no choice. She -must hide herself that “little while,” guilty though she might appear. - -She lived in various places. She found various employment. - -There was the naturalized tailor who rented the basement of the -house where she had found a room and who seemed to assume from “Mrs. -Trevor’s” face that she could baste “straight.” But she did not -“naturalize,” either to the shop or his idea of her, and he took -to complaining of her work. His subtlety was inadequate to cover -his relief when she transferred to a restaurant, one of the sort to -which ladies were “cordially” invited. But there came a day when this -proprietor, as well, begrudged the price of his mistake. - -Even time and time’s tutelage did not take the strangeness from the -fact that no one wanted her about any more. - -Weeks and months passed--Spring and Summer and another Fall-time. She -was forced to look at her funds, also at the necessity to make them do. -That grew to be her chief concern--to make them do. - -Moving her bags was expensive and thinning an Airedale to the finest -“point” of safety entailed anxiety. His canine protests against the -experiment were what first lifted her eyes to a sign beside the door -of a substantial house. A savoury odor of beef stew wafted from the -downstairs windows and attracted the young dog so powerfully that, -with ears laid back and muscles straining against his leash, he pulled -her up the first two steps. What attracted the girl was the invitation -of brass letters laid upon an ebony board: - -RETREAT FOR WAYWARD GIRLS - -For more than two hours they had been walking slowly. Each day now they -walked more slowly. And the slower they walked, the more urgent had -grown their present landlady’s “want” of their room. The window signs -were scarce in this cheap section of the city, said to be congested -beyond all record. And such “To Lets” as they had found were said at -the doors, after momentary inspection, to be already “taken.” - -So now, weariness and the odor of stew on the crisp autumn air decided -the dog. The cold sunlight falling upon the topmost, polished word of -the sign--RETREAT--decided the girl. - -The matron proved to be a quite good imitation of a mother. The girls -under her charge were mostly repentant--some she had graduated into -good cheer. “Waywardness” was an infliction to be frankly discussed; to -be vied over, sighed and cried over with consoling _camaraderie_. Even -the dog was pitied. Indeed, his demands for ready relief were met far -too generously for his gastronomic good. - -Although the “new girl” did not explain about herself--there was no -need of that--she relaxed within the warming atmosphere of the retreat -and tried hard to please. Interestedly she listened to tales of the -benevolent gentleman who directed the philanthropy. With so many -examples of waywardness about her, she came to take a less strained -view of her plight. - -But the night and day stories poured into her ears--stories of the -undying devotion of the varied “friends” in the varied inmates’ cases -who, through varied circumstances, had been separated from their -hearts’ desires by cruel Fate--filled her with a longing for John Cabot -that increased with the approach of her ordeal. Despite her unselfish -resolves, she wanted him to know. He must have been hurt if he knew of -her seeming desertion. Her past fear of the “risks,” as italicized by -Rufus Holt, was wiped off the slate of her mind. The risk of death, -which involved the greater risk of loss of love, was writ instead--to -stay. - -She decided to disregard the lawyer’s caution to the extent of a -telephone call to John’s office. But he was not in and she dared not -leave name or number. To put anything in writing was dangerous. Holt -had warned her, yet a note was the only recourse left--one brief, -careful note. Stationery and a pen she secured from the matron; forced -herself to write briefly and constrainedly; addressed it to Mr. Cabot’s -banking-house. Lest she permit apprehension to change her mind, she -placed her finished missive at once on the table in the hall, where it -would be given to the postman on his next round. - -She was returning to her room--very slowly now--when the ensuing -dialogue, first in a woman’s voice, then in a man’s, came to her ears -from behind a door marked “PRIVATE” that gave into the hall. - -“With a sham like you, there’s nothing to life. Why didn’t I see in -time that my husband was the one who should have lived--you the one to -die?” - -“How like a woman, to shift the blame! Wasn’t the whole scheme your -own--the cat-boat, the surprise attack, that weird knowledge of----” - -“Hush, for Heaven’s sake!” - -“See, you’re the guilty one. You tremble at the truth. I never had -heard of a death-spot in the human ear. I couldn’t have struck true. -And I couldn’t have play-acted your grief over the accident. Certainly -you ought to grant, Mary, that I was all right then. Expected we’d be -married like other folks, once we’d got the business well started on -the capital from his life insurance. You say you have no respect for -me. Well, there’s more than one cause for a loss of respect. What about -mine for you? How can I know when some new lover will tempt you to -drive a nail through the lobe of _my_ ear--to throw _me_ into a tide -rip? It isn’t a man’s nature, I tell you----” - -“Don’t call yourself a man. You have cheated me unforgivably. And -yet----” - -“‘And yet.’ Thank God we’ve reached argument’s end for to-day! We both -know what we know and that I can prove it. More than you hate me you -fear me. Come, we might as well be friends.” - -“_Friends?_ Remember that I can prove it, too, on you.” - -“But you won’t, dear heart. Aren’t you tired yet of threatening me? -Eventually you’ll settle to living it out peaceably on my terms. Why -not now? Come. Be a sensible soul and agree----” - -One of the voices alone might have puzzled Dolores, but together she -had recognized both. They had struck her like a blow. As if physically -stunned, she had clung to the balustrade for aid in undertaking the -first few steps of the stairway. By now, more strength came to her. -Quietly and rapidly as she could, she toiled beyond ear-shot up the -flight. - -Out of breath she collapsed on her narrow iron bed; lay realizing, not -only the significance to herself of what she had overheard, but its -meaning to the two principals as well. - -So that was the hideous bond that tied them. That was why each -pretended an affection for, considered and, if need be, defended the -other. They had paid a human life for love and found that crime brought -only mutual contempt. - -Through the realization of what enforced their hostile, yet voluntary -companionship came personal anxiety. Her letter--what if he should -notice and examine it? Why hadn’t she taken it out and posted it -herself? - -But there was no time to be wasted over futile afterthoughts. She could -not chance his reading so much as the address. She must recover her -letter. - -From the head of the stairs she could not see whether or not it still -lay on the table, which stood in the hall near the street entrance. -She could see, however, that the door marked “PRIVATE” was ajar. As -no sound of voices came to her, she concluded that the two in the -hateful lockstep must have gone. She counted possible costs, then again -descended the stairs. - -They stood beside the table. Not until she saw their faces would she -believe the worst. Not only had he noticed the address of the letter, -but had opened and was reading it. - -A smile was on his face--the æsthetic, pale-eyed, appealing face of -Vincent Seff. His agreeable laugh sounded as he turned to Mrs. Hutton. - -“Of all the chickens to come home to roost in the coop of little Vin! -You remember that pugilistic Puritan, John Cabot? As addressed to him, -Mary, what can these hieroglyphics mean? Listen: - -“‘Soon a rosebud will open its petals to the world. I may not stay to -care for it. I depend on you.’” - -Impulse ruled Dolores. She crossed the hall; stretched out her hand for -the letter; faced them. - -“It is mine. You have no right to read it.” - -For a long moment Seff simply looked at her. Then he took the -lavender-bordered ’kerchief from his sleeve and with it wiped his lips. - -“Well met,” said he at last, “_Miss Nectarine_.” - -“You have no right to open a sealed and stamped letter intended for -the mails,” Dolores insisted. “Will you give it back to me or shall I -appeal to the head of this institution?” - -“Appeal. I am the head of the institution. I have a right to do -whatsoever I see fit within its hallowed walls.” The satisfaction of -his smile increased. - -Mrs. Hutton, a shade grayer, calmer and handsomer, at first had looked -chiefly astonished. Now she intervened. - -“Best give it back, Vin. Being what you are--or rather, what you -aren’t--you can have no interest in the affairs of this girl, unless -that----” - -“Unless that I do feel so obligated by my debts and her I owe so much. -But take your delicate little effusion. I couldn’t possibly forget a -word of it.” - -Her letter in hand, Dolores turned and was about to undertake the -stairs again, when he stopped her. - -“Just a moment, Miss Trent. How long will it take you to retreat -yourself out of here?” - -“To retreat?” she asked. “But I thought the object of this house----” - -“Allow me to explain. The purpose of the institution is to help girls -who repent of their waywardness, not to encourage hardened sinners. I -have followed your career in the newspapers. I consider it a privilege -to have read your latest attempt at extortion. Naturally I assume that, -once your present handicap is overcome, you’ll go on, like a brook, -purling round the hearts of men--on and on and on. There are public -reformatories for persons of your sort. To realize our ideals, we must -be somewhat particular here.” - -Mrs. Hutton, as well as the girl, looked at him. Drawn to the full of -his dapper height, his face lit by artistic appreciation of his own -pose, his gesture delicately drawn, he might have impressed a stranger -as the benevolent of the inmates’ praise. - -But Mary Hutton was not a stranger. That equivocally proud yet -contemptuous smile was on her lips as she turned to Dolores. - -“You at least will have a child. I have nothing--nothing,” she -remarked. “Don’t be annoyed by a little thing like Vincent Seff turned -to philanthropy and good works.” - - * * * * * - -The ultimatum of the head of the Retreat increased the urgency of -Dolores’ letter. She posted it herself before setting out to find a -new place. She was fortunate, however. Before night she had located a -rooming-house “lady” sufficiently in need, sufficiently pessimistic, -sufficiently old and shiftless and poor-spirited to waive references -and accept two weeks’ rental in advance. Here she laid in what she -still could pay for toward her needs; here lived along and waited with -hard-dying hope. - -Since she had found the place so soon, she regretted the hasty posting -of her note. Rather than chance another of those risks to John, of -which the deposed shop-keeper’s suggestions had increased her fear, she -had given her new address to that quite good imitation of a mother, the -matron of the Retreat, for the forwarding of mail or the convenience of -any friends who might telephone about her or call to see her. - -The incidents of her days became the variation from morning confidence -to evening despondency; of her nights, the discarding, under crush of -the blackness, of one after another of her schemes for a second and -more direct message. And, whether in the daytime or at night, a bark -of the dog at an unaccustomed sound would rouse her to radiance--to -heart-hammering joy; or his growling return to the tedium of his life -would bring her back to heart-stilling disappointment. Either John had -made no response to her appeal or the matron had failed to supply the -address. - -Heavier upon her pressed thoughts of the power of her enemies. Where -would her note lead Catherine Cabot if it chanced into the hands of her -hirelings? What might not Seff reveal? How much might those omniscient -detectives learn from their watch of John? - -So far Fate had conspired against her with a nice regard for every -detail. She became possessed by the pertinent query: Why should _she_ -expect the mind of Fate to change? - -Any question over the advisability of telephoning Rufus Holt was -answered by her inability to go out in search of a booth. Just -before one fevered dawn the idea of advertisement came and crowded -out the sickening controversy over whether John or the matron was -to blame. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before? In a return of -expectation, she composed a “personal” that seemed to her adequately -“covered”--recognizable only to him addressed. There was piquancy in -the thought that the Press which had been her enemy should now serve -her as a friend. Fortunate that she knew which of the morning papers he -was accustomed to read with care--doubly fortunate that there still was -enough left of her hoard to pay for a single notice. - -The poor-spirited landlady looked especially pessimistic over the -errand on which she was asked to go, any chance of a reward depending -upon its success. Her new tenant was likely to be a great deal of -trouble, she anticipated aloud, and she never before had been reduced -to taking dogs. Had not the room been so long vacant, she would not -have considered the pair of them. She suspected, moreover, from the -things they were doing without, that they had about reached the limit -of their wherewithal. However, none could say but what she always -looked on the bright side of things and she’d do her best about getting -all the display the money would buy for the personal. - -Dolores’ confidence increased after the old woman had gone. Such doubts -as crowded in, she exorcised with the reminder that her advertisement -would have succeeded or failed in one day’s time. Often in the past she -had deplored the fact that the marvelous output of the press should die -in a day; now she rejoiced in the fact. By to-morrow he would have come -or--But she would not--dared not face the alternative. - -That night her baby was born. - -The old woman did what she had time for and the charity doctor -stayed a while. Afterward, Dolores must have sunk into a state of -semi-consciousness--must have slept or dozed away the time, for she -roused to incredulity on being told that it was noon of the next day. - -Two other facts penetrated her listlessness. The life of that day’s -_Times_ must soon be spent and her child was a girl. - -Suppose he did not come. That meant that another girl-child was -fatherless. Already, in the world’s opinion, she would be accounted -worse than motherless. - -As before, time became merely a variation of hope and despondency.... -What was that? Surely, an Airedale bred to watchfulness would not grow -so excited had he not recognized a step or voice!... But no, he was -a silly dog, silly and extremely bored. He and she, too, must have -imagined the step and the voice. - -A girl, their babe--a hapless, little human, who was not to inherit -even such paternal affection and care as could be spared from poppy -paste. Another girl she had brought into a world which had no justice -for unprotected girls.... Perhaps, if he did not come, it would be -best that their baby be spared the learning of life--the humiliations, -the disillusionments, the death-stab of love that lied.... Since he -had not come, love _must_ have lied. Both her messages would not have -gone astray. There was significance in this second failure. Too late -to protect her from his weakness had come his strength. If he did not, -_would_ not come---- - -She must be very ill; must have dozed off a while--that is, if the old -woman told the truth about night having come again.... Likely she _had_ -told the truth, for the room was quite dark, except for the one dim -gas-jet lit in the old-fashioned chandelier. - -The landlady had come in to say that she wanted the room as soon as -Dolores was able to get about. A refined adult--a single gentleman--had -enquired about it that day. Mrs. Trevor should remember her saying from -the first that she never took in dogs or babies. She knew what babies -were--just one sick spell after another. And she had no space in the -back-yard for regular laundry. She was a kind-hearted woman and honest -about her bargains, the Lord knew. But she had herself to think of and -the other folks in the house. She wasn’t one to worry a fellow woman -sick-a-bed, but the gent had said he would stop in the morning for -his answer. Naturally, she would need to name the exact day he could -come. Her soft heart always had been her worst enemy, but business was -business. - -After the old woman had dismalled herself out, Dolores’ gaze again -strayed to the gas-jet. The turned-down flame fascinated her and -seemed to make a light in her mind. It flickered an answer to the -embarrassing question of when she could give over the room.... What -time was it now?... Nine o’clock.... The day that was the life of a -news sheet was long since done.... - -There were three jets to the chandelier. It wasn’t going to take -long. Already she was affected by the fumes. The dog was sniffing -suspiciously, whining protest.... - -“A life for a life,” she told him unfeelingly, thinking of Jack, -the only one who ever had loved without harming her. But then--the -Airedale, after all, had not asked Jack’s life any more than she had -asked her mother’s.... She arose, tottered to the door, took him by the -nape of the neck and thrust him into the pure air of the hall. - -Fortunately the babe was too young to realize or complain; would never -know about life--never know. Dolores held the small form to her heart -and shuddered anew over what life might have meted out to so tiny and -helpless a creature. - -“There is the mark of the seal they call the signet of Solomon,” she -mumbled through the dark to the chandelier. “There are to will and -to have your will. There are your social ideas, your excesses, your -pleasures that end in death----” - -Who was it had reminded her of Maupassant not so very long ago? -Oh, yes.... That night.... What, indeed, was folly but “a riotous -expenditure of will”?... He had not seemed a man to shirk the -obligations of his folly--John Cabot--that night. Yet he had not -come.... So tender he had seemed in his madness for her; so willing to -deny himself; so determined to consider her. He had made her realize -the happiness which she and Jack had tried to learn from a bird.... -Still, where now--happiness?... And God--where was God? - -Who was bending over her?... Amor--could that be the gallant love-lad, -so broken and so gaunt? Had he come to mock her?... And was it -Innocentia clinging, peaked and weeping, to his hand? - -Sorry comforters, the two. Their visit distressed her more than the -nauseous fumes from the jets. - -There were Vincent Seff and Mary Hutton, now. Why were they still -together?... Strange that whichever died first, the other would be -there, attentive to the end lest the fear of God overcome the fear of -man in a death-bed repentance.... They could be sure of each other’s -company to the end.... Hate, then, bound people closer than love.... -Love? How lonely was love! - -“I never--knew God, but I knew--you. Why--_why_ hast -thou--forsaken--me?” - -The gasp was wrung from her stress of body and soul. In the darkness -and the aloneness it quavered heartbrokenly upward with her thought of -John Cabot. - -Then she remembered the lady she had admired in the railway station, -long, long ago--the lady who had sneezed. She hadn’t made the -usual fuss about it; had just leaned out and done it, neatly and -composedly.... What was human life but a sneeze? Birth was the warning; -youth the preparation; life the sniffing and death the wiping of eyes. -After death perhaps one settled back into composure.... The lady had -proved a good example in so many crises of her life. It was well to -have remembered her in death.... She must make no fuss; must do it -neatly and composedly. - -She threw back her head; set her lips hard; breathed deep and long ... -deep and long ... deep and long.... - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - “_A woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet and upon - her head a crown of twelve stars. And she, being with child, cried, - travailing in birth and pained to be delivered._” - - -The girl-shade heard the words intoned in _mezzo voce_. At the door -of the throne-room she paused, loath to enter the next scene of the -co-star piece. All the day following the completion of her story of -earth she had lain within her chamber, in a state of narcosis, varied -only by the dull ache of dread. All day she had expected the summons -which now had come, that she appear before the King. Through the -séances she had done her best; had whipped her spirit as a slave-seller -might have lashed some modest, naked body on the block. She had come -for the reckoning. If so be it she had met the royal expectations, -her reward would be that lowest high office yet assigned in Greater -Gehenna--She-Destroyer of Womankind. If she had failed---- - - “_And the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be - delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born._” - -Again the deep intonations. Glancing into the blaze of light which -had confused her eyes after her approach through the dim, winding -corridors, Dolores saw a tall figure in the full effect of male evening -attire on earth, with back toward her and gestures directed into one of -the mercurized walls. - -Her hesitation was mastered by surprise. Even on closer view, she -scarcely could believe that this superb copy of the men of Earth indeed -was His Satanic Majesty. His hair, formerly pompadoured to conceal his -horns, was clipped, parted on one side and slicked back, the indices -of power evidently razored close. The auburn Vandyke which had been -inseparable from her concept of him was the more noticeable now for -its absence. In its place, a smile whose charm would have been hard to -describe clothed the well-sculped lips. - -The lines and color of His Highness’ costume adhered to what she -knew was “latest” form--all except his tie. That was of a red which -vividly reminded her of that Justice Roscoe Strang, whose independence -of judicial precedent had been suggested by a like daring note in -otherwise sombre dress. - -“Ah, sweet Grief,” he saluted her. “I feel indebted to you for the -basic idea of my sermon on ‘The Service of Suicide.’ You’ve caught -me at a rehearsal. I was just reading my text, ‘To Hell with the -Ill-Begot.’ We mustn’t overlook the propaganda out of the mouths of -babes and sucklings in our new Drive of Destruction, eh?” - -“Mustn’t we?” she evaded wretchedly. - -“Come, cheer down! Did my mere mention of a sermon make you pull the -doleful face of the average religionist in church? You haven’t said how -you like my style to-night. Am I not beautiful and _à la mode_?” - -He appeared to be in an unusually amiable mood. A turn or two he took -around her, evidently to note the reflection on her face as well as in -the mirror. - -“Is it possible----” in sudden suspicion he peered at her--“that you -don’t like me razored?” - -“You look--very well.” - -“I look--‘very well.’” He aped her effortful tone. “Didst note her -burst of enthusiasm? In gratitude, she’s not so different from the rest -of womankind. What one of them ever realized that a man would rather -remove a mountain from the physiognomy of the earth than the beard from -his face? As for the horns from his head!” - -“But really, I do like it--very well indeed!” - -“‘Very well indeed’!” Satan threw out his hands in a farcical gesture -of despair. “What man who shaves his beard to please a woman ever -really pleases her?” - -“To please me, Your Lowness?” - -“Sin’s idea. That silhouette you drew of your pet philanthropist shows -you to have preconceived ideas of the looks of latter-day devils. I -haven’t spent centuries catering to human preconceptions for nothing. -Presto, even John Cabot’s crime toward you is no blacker than my -cut-faced clothes! My tie is a bit off--that is _on_--color, as it -were. But I notice that no man is held accountable for his taste in -cravats. Maybe I _was_ dressed like a character part.” - -With the frank self-appreciation of a husband who has just been -hectored into an evening suit by his wife, he turned for a critical -survey of her appearance. - -“Glad to see you looking fit to go out with me,” he approved. “I have -planned to take you to a show.” - -“To hear you preach?” She put the assumption rather eagerly. “I am -so glad. I have hoped each night you would take me. Frequently when -hearing you talk, I have wondered whether you would--whether you -wouldn’t----” - -She faltered at his look of amazement. - -“If I wouldn’t just what, child?” he encouraged with all the unctuous -kindliness of the Rev. Dr. Alexander Willard. - -“Wouldn’t teach me the Scriptures. You seem to know them by heart.” - -“By head, not by heart. There’s a difference, you know. Ingersoll knew -them by head.” Satan’s chuckles began with contemplation of her idea. -“Really, you are either the most naïve or the most intriguing of lost -souls.” - -“But seriously,” she insisted. - -“Oh, _seriously_!” He laughed the more. “Well, seriously, my poor -child, I’d advise you to remember the clay feet of the ‘Sporting -Parson.’ Far be it from me to try to improve a perfectly bad mind. ‘The -Little Book shall be in thy mouth sweet as honey, but shall make thy -belly bitter.’ That’s one of my own handy, illiterate translations. -M’lady, the carriage awaits. Time we were on our way.” - -He was pleased to drive her to the promised entertainment in his -favorite Hawk. While drifting through the drab air of night in Gehenna, -lit only by that “pale, abiding light” whose dynamo was beyond control -of his electricians, he explained the kind of “show” to which he was -escorting her. In it he was not to star, no. It was only a motion -picture, but one in which he felt that she, as well as he, would take -interest. - -They were to see, in fact, a picturization of certain unfinished -details connected with her own career on earth, over which he, for one, -felt curiosity. He had ordered the life-films to date of John Cabot -brought from the supply house and cut to give a comprehensive exposé of -a character that would refuse to heed the death cries of a girl whom, -by the honor code of Earth, he was bound to protect. Satan himself had -hit on an apt title, but had not previewed the picture and had left the -sub-titling to his first fiend-scenarist. He hoped for an entertaining -and regardless presentation. - -At the Devil’s Own Playhouse it was evident that the feature had -been extensively billed. The capacity of the theater was taxed to -standing-room when the King led his interesting guest into the royal -box. Down over the billows of faces that waved back at their entrance, -Dolores looked with pitying eyes. On a few was apathy; on more, fevered -eagerness; on most, apprehension. The Sea of the Fear of Despair -they were--a Dead Sea, indeed. She, too, soon was carried out toward -its white-caps of hoping thoughts, caught in its undertow. This she -realized from the emotion within herself which began with the curtain’s -rise--the deeps of heartbreak disturbed by the high-winds of hope. - -The camera was said not to lie. If His Highness’ boasted topical review -was bona-fide, some excuse might evolve for him who had refused to heed -her call. - -The series of incidents unfolded upon the super-quick silver screen may -most readily be grasped, perhaps, by a perusal of the working synopsis -to which the master-director of Hell Films cut the production. - - -THE TURN TURTLE - - HIS SATANIC MAJESTY - Presents - John Cabot - In Facts from His Natural History - Shown in Three Turns. - -(_On Screen_) - -The turn turtle is an insignificant reptile, great only in its -cowardice. It never looks danger in the face, but at first alarm pulls -in its head and scuddles away. Watch this one. - -Turtle enters slowly. Protrudes head. Looks around. Face changes -to that of John Cabot. A pair of hands--recognizably Dolores -Trent’s--appear. Stretch toward turtle. Face shows fright. Head -withdraws into shell. Turtle crawls off. - -(_On Screen_) - - -THE FIRST TURN - -John Cabot enters his Broad Street office. Seats himself at desk. Goes -through pile of letters in weary manner. Stops to study one. - -(_Show, in Dolores’ Handwriting--Envelope of Dolores’ note, with -“Personal” underscored and the return address of Retreat for Wayward -Girls in corner._) - -John interrupted by arrival of Rufus Holt who looks worried, but tries -to cheer up when John asks about Dolores. Attorney assures John: - -(_Insert_) “_Miss Trent is comfortably settled at a shore resort, as -well and happy as can be expected until matters are settled._” - -With a gesture John asks Holt to wait until he has finished his mail. -Again takes up Dolores’ letter. Is unfolding enclosure when Catherine, -in street costume, enters. She shows amused surprise at Holt’s -presence, but insists that he remain when he attempts to leave. - -She takes chair which John places for her. From her purse produces a -ticket which she offers for his inspection. - -(_Show--Transportation on Trans-Atlantic Blimp._) - -At John’s surprise, Catherine offers plaintive explanation: - -(_Insert_) “_In two weeks I am going abroad as a sort of memorial to -Jackie--to help mother the war orphans over there._” - -John studies her coldly, taps forefinger on desk as replies: - -(_Insert_) “_Another of your trick trips! Well, Europe is not far -these days. A radiogram, a quick flight home and better luck with your -suit-for-absolute next time--perhaps._” - -Catherine affects sadness at his suspicion. Droops toward him over -desk with reproachful, luring smile. Seems about to weep. Feels for -’kerchief. Drops eyelids. Is able to read Dolores’ envelope. Picks it -up. Studies it. Sneers: - -(_Insert_) “_What a heart you have for wayward girls! Is this a love -letter or a dun?_” - -Ends interview with steady stare of suspicion at Holt, who stands -nervously beside a window. - -When Catherine has gone, John settles his own wonder on subject. - -(_Show in Dolores’ handwriting--“Soon a rosebud will open its petals -to the world. I may not stay to care for it. I depend on you._”) - -John turns upon Holt. Without explaining, accuses him of perfidy. Holt -departs, depressed by their danger of exposure. - -John calls a taxi. Drives at once to the Retreat. Is putting his query -to the matron when Vincent Seff emerges from room marked “Private.” -Mutual recognitions instant. Seff does the lofty philanthropic. In -answer to John’s demands claims to know nothing of Miss Trent except -that duty forced him to eject her from Home the previous day. - -Matron tries to proffer her information, but is cut short by Seff, who -assures her aside: - -(_Insert_) “_It is for the girl’s best good that we throw this -blood-hound off the scent. Trust my judgment._” - -Matron retires from scene without giving address. Seff, with -exaggerated courtesy draped over his triumph and sneers, shows John the -door. - -John drives at once to a detective agency. There, with hard-suppressed -impatience, he retains them to find the girl he had not known was lost. -Suggests: - -(_Insert_) “_Comb all the taxi and express stands in the vicinity, -grill the matron of the Retreat and shadow Seff._” - -Scene shifts to hallway outside Dolores’ room. Aged landlady emerges. -Puts on spectacles. Reads advertisement entrusted to her. - -(_On Screen in Dolores’ Handwriting_) - - _Wasted_ - - _Unless you come to me at once._ - _979 East 17th Street._ - -Counts money given for its insertion. Departs kitchen-ward. Mutters: - -(_Insert_) “_Money’s a sure thing. This ad. ain’t. I owe something to -myself and sure, so does she._” - -As days pass John is tortured by alternate hope and disappointment. -Detectives make reports, but nothing comes of their search. He grows -haggard and desperate. - -Catherine comes again to office with an appeal to his patriotism. -Expresses herself as shocked by change in him. Gets generous check for -her proposed philanthropy abroad. Suggests sarcastically: - -(_Insert_) “_Better join me in this sail overseas. With your money and -your sympathy for waywardness, you’d find a lot to do in demoralized -Europe._” - -John scorns even to refuse. Once outside office, Catherine seeks a -telephone booth. Gets her own detective agency. Orders extra close -watch on husband’s movements. - -(_On Screen_) - - -THE SECOND TURN - -At his club John finds himself distracted. Cannot listen to -conversation of friends. Seeks office. Over telephone gets the usual -assurance from his detective that “something” is about to happen. -Decides to wait at office. Looks at desk calendar. - - (_Show--October 31, date of Dolores’ death._) - -John paces floor through terrible night. Imagines forms of Amor and -Innocentia pleading with him. Sees reproachful face of Jack peering at -him from the shadows. Curses past weakness and present impotency. - -The while, in bedroom at Cabot town-house, Catherine sleeps. Smiles -like innocent child in her guilty dreams. - -Dolores’ landlady arises from sound slumber. Goes about her sordid -tasks. Smells gas. Traces it. Airedale is on guard outside tenant’s -door. Landlady entices him away with bit of meat from kitchen below. -Breaks into room. Makes startling discovery. Mother and babe dead upon -the bed. Her first thought after turning off gas is for meter. Reads -it. Gets greatly excited. - -In kitchen landlady retrieves Dolores’ advertisement and money for -payment. On consideration, decides that best chance of getting bill -paid by a dead tenant lies in possible live answer to the ad. Goes to -_Times_ office on belated errand. Proffers “personal.” - -(_On Screen_) - -In this wise--and only one day late--the “Personal” of Dolores Trent -appears. - -In office of afternoon newspaper veiled ad. catches eye of sub-editor. - -(_On Screen in Print_) - - _Wasted_ - - _Unless you come to me at once._ - _979 East 17th Street._ - -Editor calls reporter, who goes to East Side address. - -John emerges from club with copy of _Times_ under arm. At curb buys -copies of two other newspapers. As gets into limousine, lets one--the -_Times_--fall into mud. - -(_On Screen_) - -As usually happens, the “Personal” is not read by the person for whom -intended. - -John glances at fallen paper regretfully. As cab starts, turns to -financial pages of other paper. - -Up street wind drives copy of _Times_. Blows it open. - -(_On Screen in Print_) - - _Wasted_ - - _Unless you come to me at once._ - _979 East 17th Street._ - -Hoof of dray horse stamps out legibility of printed words. - -(_On Screen_) - -Well it is for the solving of mysteries that the public need not depend -upon the mysterious ways of detective agencies. - -Reporter finds East Seventeenth Street address. Frightens landlady -with questions about ad. Persuades her to let him into Dolores’ room. -Recognizes face of notorious girl. Emerges under thrill of a “beat.” - -Rewrite man in evening newspaper office takes discovery over telephone. -Rattles sensational story through typewriter and composing room into -print. - -In another office an un-wise old “owl” of John’s detective agency gets -start from headlines of latest edition. - -(_On Screen in Print_) - - _Dolores Trent a Suicide - Goes to End by Gas - Takes Birthling for Company._ - -Agency chief shows himself capable of real speed after things have -been detected for him. Makes for John’s office. Must prepare employer -for shock, he declares. They have found the girl, although dead. The -address is John’s only demand. It is supplied without reference to -newspaper. He hastens there. - -Pessimistic landlady will let none except authorities into bedroom -until bills are paid. - -(_Insert_) “_It uses up a sight of gas to kill a woman grown and a -healthy baby._” - -John crushes green-backs into her hand and strides into room. - -Upon bed lies dead girl. - - (_On Screen_) - -With backthrown silken hair her mourning veil, all smileless in death -as she had been through life, she clasps to her breast the clay of his -child and hers, of whose existence a detective had told him. “Grief to -Men” at last teaches one man the acme of grief. - -John bends over her. His lips move. - -(_Insert_) “_I have murdered what I love. Can you forgive?_” - -Sinks to knees beside bed. Lays face in her hair. Shudders in agony of -regret. - -THE THIRD TURN - -(_On Screen_) - -The digit of death points back to the divorce case of Cabot vs. Cabot. - -In imposing room of Bar Association, Rufus Holt stands trial for his -professional life. Is charged with having thrown the first divorce case -he ever lost. Faces of jury of brother lawyers grow contemptuous when -prosecutor sums up evidence against him--his visit to Judge Strang’s -apartment with Cabot co-respondent, as reported by elevator man, later -protectorate of girl and payment of her bills, as proved by florist and -manager of up-town hotel, and continued friendship with John Cabot. Now -suicide of girl and death of infant conceived during period of sojourn -in philanthropist’s home clinches case. - -Holt to be formally disbarred. Is broken by disgrace and denied -friendship of man for whom he took risk. Leaves trial room. - -(_On Screen_) - -Mrs. Cabot finds a new use for “blimps.” - -In her quarters at Cabot town-house, Catherine and maid are engaged in -packing trunks. Two society friends announced. Shown into disordered -suite. Ask questions. Is it true, as papers say, that Mrs. Cabot is -going to make trans-Atlantic flight? Catherine gives laughing assurance: - -(_Insert_) “_I’ve always enjoyed being first, my dears. I guess I am -first to fly from unpleasant notoriety. It will be a joy-ride, as my -new lawyer is sure of winning my reopened suit._” - -(_On Screen_) - - DUST TO DUST - - -Beside grave of Trevor Trent, jovial digger finishes double task. -Enters auto hearse, followed by single limousine. John steps from -car as coffin is lowered. Carries arm-load of roses. Holds face -emotionless. Tears off handful of rose petals. Scatters them into -grave. Lips move. - -(_Insert_) “_God teach me that nothing is wasted. God grant that -nothing is wasted._” - -As he turns away, with last offices performed, is halted and questioned -by reporter who first published news of Dolores’ death. John at first -refuses to answer. Shows deep thought, then inspiration. - -(_Insert_) “_You may say that I am sailing for Europe in the -trans-Atlantic blimp. Yes, with Mrs. Cabot._” - -Reporter stands astonished. Stares. - -(_On Screen_) - -That John Cabot deserves his reputation for shrewdness is the -news-hound’s thought. So that is his latest scheme for protecting the -name of the Trent girl--to stop the possible reopening of his wife’s -suit by flying abroad with her, Whether she wants him or not! - -(_Cut Back_) Turtle appears. Protrudes head. Sees appealing hands. -Withdraws head. Turns. Scuddles away. - - -THE END - -(_Passed by Board of Censure_) - -HELL FILMS - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -For minutes after the lights had flashed over The Devil’s Own, the two -in the royal box sat gazing at the flat silver surface so recently -deep with the shadows and high-lights of life as lived on Earth. -Neither noticed that the dead sea of faces below was enlivened by -recognition of the King’s favorite before it ebbed away beneath the -balcony. Neither heard the swish of whispers that passed from wave to -wave--gossip retailed from court, vilified innuendo, speculation over -the Belialic intent in entertaining the lately arrived star of the -piece with her death’s aftermath. - -In truth, both host and guest were self-absorbed in emotion roused by -the play, but emotion quite antipodal. His shaved face showed plainly -his astonishment; worked with his darkling rage. Hers lifted roofward -a glory that so outshone the super-lighted dome as to suggest the -far-distant source of that radiance which no Avernian device might dim. - -“It was not what I expected--the picture,” Satan remarked, with ominous -restraint. “The titling was good, but the plot didn’t fit. The damned -turn-turtle didn’t turn!” - -Dolores was too charged with an inspired decision to realize his -displeasure. She turned to him; stretched out her hand; touched his arm. - -“You said you could put me in spiritual connection with the women of -Earth,” she reminded him. “Could you also with men--with John?” - -“And why, pray, with John?” - -The cruelty of the smile which had been so charming awhile back should -have warned her, but she must have been blinded by that light from -within. - -“Didn’t you see how he suffered from self-reproach? Don’t you realize -that he still is suffering?” She sighed in her voice of sad winds. -“Surely you gathered from the picture that all those age-long minutes -of the time I died from doubt, he still loved me--that he loves me now? -I want to implore his forgiveness.” - -Her smile, timid from its rarity, strained to disappear, although she -tried to hold it. - -“I’ve done my best to please you,” she wheedled nervously. “Won’t you -do this for me--just free my spirit for one short hour by the time of -Earth?” - -“So! You’d rather go back to that puny mortal than on and on--with me?” - -“Oh, but I’ll come back, and go on and on so cheerfully! I give you my -word,” she assured him. “I’ll do everything I can for you. Just grant -me the hour. It’s not the fraction of a second to you. You say that you -never have cared for anyone. Yet you boast of your imagination. Can’t -you imagine what it is really to care? Won’t you even try?” - -“I might do that.” He eyed her. “I might try.” - -All the drive home his manner was detached. He did not repulse her -gratitude for his grudging consideration of her request. Neither did he -explain that he was trying to imagine what “caring” would be like--but -trying through jealousy, its crudest mood. - -“I will tell you--well, afterward,” he said, on bidding her “sleep -light” within Apollyon Palace. - -“After what?”--she. - -“That I don’t know myself as yet,” he snapped. - -Afterward--if only we could know the afterward before! - -She slept light. And through the next day her regret increased that -she had not dared his wrath and demanded a definite period to her -suspense. Feelings unwontedly rebellious filled her that she must wait -to know--rather, that John must wait. - -Over the babe--their babe--she crooned her hope. To Adeline she -whispered her apprehension. Something in the hard, planning look of the -unfair fiend, in his superiority to any attempt at cleverness, in his -abstraction even while listening to compliments over his driving---- - -_When_ was afterward? - - * * * * * - -Satan, too, asked himself questions through that day. - -A far busier leader than any king or president of Earth, since he -had the evil of all nations to direct, he yet found time from his -activities to remember the boomerang blow to himself of last night’s -“show.” - -His chamber of state glowed as with St. Elmo’s fire, while he -lightning-flashed his orders through infinity, defying the “static” of -Earth and Heaven and the void between. Piteously he drove his Minions -of Malice toward the consummation of crimes unique or foul enough to -merit his supervision. No measurement exists to compute the watts of -energy required to transmit the royal will in this orgy of action. But -what did he care that the Gehennan sun was dimmed by the draught until -it looked a mere balloon? - -As the artificial daylight went into eclipse, greener grew the color -of the Satanic mood--a hard green, mixed from the yellow of chagrin -and the blue-black of rage. He felt as mean as a son-in-law. It did -not help in the slightest to have Old Original commiserate him on the -projection of a picture which had shown his rival running true; no -more did that unworthy’s impious request that he be appointed royal -previewer of all future films. Even the minister’s report on the entire -success of a particularly contemptible political coup which he had -devised for the postponement of that good will toward men threatened in -the “Little Book” did not long divert him. - -At length, consigning the rest of the day’s deviltry to various fiend -aides, the Author of Evil forced his mind to concentrate on the vital -question evolved from last night. How best might mortal pusillanimity -be revealed to the rose-goggled eyes of true love? - -Through the mood which he had been suffering since the fiasco of his -“evening out,” he recognized violent tendencies within himself which -made him feel, more than ever before, his power to devise and inflict -suffering. In this case, however, violence would not do; would destroy -what he wished to create. With meticulous delicacy he must handle this -mind feminine if he hoped to pluck therefrom its dearest idealization. - -What can the heart of woman not forgive? He asked himself and -considered, one by one, many answers. - -“_I_ never could forgive infidelity!” - -At that loudest and oftenest cry of the wives of the world the -malignant lips curled. “_Never?_” Yet most did forgive who found it -advisable so to do. - -“Liquor? I _couldn’t_ endure that kind of a beast.” - -But which martyr-wife exchanged her drunken lord except for a better -fate? - -“Dishonesty? I _wouldn’t_ live with a man I didn’t respect.” - -Wouldn’t she? Then why were the jail-gates draped with weeping faces -and stretching arms--why the late-life efforts to “live it down” of the -work-wasted woman and the husband who had served out his time? - -Never? Couldn’t? Wouldn’t? What the heart of woman cannot forgive is -what she has not been called upon to forgive. The libertine’s lady -might just as well have learned to endure shame through ebriety, the -drunkard’s dupe through lechery. - -What type of man, then, does the mind of woman most despise? A -villain? Scarcely, when the worst are loved the best. A traitor, a -weakling, a failure? For the lowest of these, pardons are plead. Upon -them, regenerating love is poured. What--_what_ to her is the sin -unpardonable? - -With eyes closed against possible distractions, Satan rough-shadowed -the suspects of his thoughts. And just when his mind seemed emptied of -ideas, he had it. - -Of course. _Of course._ A caught coward was what she could not forgive, -woman. He would star one earthling for benefit of his spirit-mate in -a play of cowardice. “Afterward”? After he was through, she scarcely -would press her request. - -From their Limbian “Information” he inquired the name of the personal -devil of John Cabot. Upon learning that an imp named Okeh attended the -banker, he demanded instant connection by wireless telephone. This -he got with a promptness that might be commended to the attention of -mortal systematizers. - -“That you, Okeh?” he asked. “I hear that you’re responsible for the -evil impulses of a Mr. John Calvin Cabot.... You speak as if you -were proud of the fact. You needn’t be.... What say?... But I have a -perfectly bad right to insult you.... A chance at me is just what I’m -going to give you--a chance to prove your efficiency. I want the Cabot -program for the immediate future. Quick, now. I am not used to waiting.” - -Amid sulphuric anathemas at his informant, Satan noted the report. -Sailing for Europe in half an hour on a trans-Atlantic air-liner, was -he? And enemy wife, all unknowing as yet, was blimping it along? In the -old nick of time, as usual, was he to wish the undevoted couple _mal -voyage_. So the Marquis d’Elie, too, was to be on board? After all, the -“Turn Turtle” must think more of the Trent girl’s battered reputation -than of his own pleasure. - -If the big blimp was to sail in a few minutes, what was Mr. Cabot -doing in the morasses of Brooklyn, only half way to the flying field? -The agate-eyed personal devil was ready with explanations. The -gentleman’s wife was reopening a suit for divorce on the strength of -an illegitimate child whom circumstantial evidence proved to be his. -The air trip was to celebrate all but the actual verdict in her favor. -Cabot had started late that he might board at the last moment, thereby -giving her an unhappy surprise. His car unfortunately had run into a -jam around an open-air evangelist--a sensational religionist who was -enthralling crowds everywhere, the Rev. Dr. Alexander Willard by name. - -Scarcely could Satan restrain his risibilities. What a contretemps! -Here was the deposed divine, forced to the Free Church of Outdoors by -the siren Grief, with his eloquence delaying her last victim’s flight -from the scandal she had brought upon him. How delightfully diabolic! - -For sake of his own recent experiment at popularizing the once tedious -sermon, His Augustness had Okeh short-mouth for him certain of -“Nimrod’s” shots. - -“I used to hunt birds and beasts. Now I hunt the hearts of men. God -is my guide, Hallelujah! So what care I that I am shut out from the -temples of those who call themselves the righteous? The world is too -small a church for me. Through the tall timbers of humanity I hunt -immortal souls. Look out for me, you quaking quail of a woman! Look -out for me, you running rabbit of a man! You can’t escape me through -the underbrush of your hypocrisy. I don’t miss, once I take aim. -Hallelujah, I am gunning for _you_!” - -Lest the imp mistake his dishonest amusement, Satan cut off the report. -“Enough of that irreverent stuff. Listen carefully now to instructions -from the First and Last. That liner likely will wait for a man of -Cabot’s importance. See that you get aboard with him. You’re to -closer-than-a-brother him through an opportunity for inciting cowardice -which will present itself. While he sleeps insinuate into his mind -a terror of death by falling and by drowning. Strengthen his primal -appetence of self-protection. This is the last chance you get with me. -If you fail to make an arrant coward of this man you’ll find yourself -out of a deviling job for death. I am busy now, as you’d better be. A -bad afternoon to you!” - -The Regent of Reversals was “on terms” with the elements, as with all -forces for evil through good. On hearing that calm had been planned for -the high-seas, he discarded the idea of a marine storm. - -Always had his worst results been obtained through natural causes. -Indeed, he had come to pride himself that no cause was _too_ natural -for him. Particularly did he dislike, for reasons of his own, to -interfere with a rainbow, it being a symbol to him that the Earth would -not be destroyed by water. Since he had only fire as a weapon he would -be in a bad fix if the coup ultimate should be sprung upon him with -water power. Of course, the coup wasn’t to be sprung, not if he could -forestall it, but even yet he was wracked by unrighteous rage every -time he recalled Noah’s Flood. That time, he had been about as powerful -as a case of dynamite--_soaked_. One decent thing about the Great-I-Am -was that He never forgot a promise. One could count upon a rainbow, -once one saw it. And Satan was “counting.” - -Upon the single great indestructible under his control he must depend -to vary the monotony of a placid sea. Never had the three single-eyed -Cyclopeans of mythology failed to serve his purposes. Lightning Flash, -Thunderbolt and Rolling Thunder would advance his scheme. - -Motivation and “natural causes” arranged, he sent a peremptory summons -for the Prime Minister and to him detailed instructions in the duties -of a proxy escort. An hour before dawn Sin was to awaken the Royal -Entertainer and conduct her straightway to the stadium of the Ball of -Life. That “best bubble” of infernal invention was to entertain her by -picturing some interesting Earth events as they occurred. - -“I shall not fail Your Damnity,” the old toady assured him. - -“Better not,” was all Satan said as he finger-flashed his First -Emissary of Evil out the royal suite. - -His Master Crier was called; told to issue a general invitation to the -forthcoming spectacle; warned that the stadium must be filled to its -last seat, despite the unconventional hour. Not until this sop to his -vanity had been applied, did His Lowness close the “office” and himself -depart. - -With the failure of his past-tense picture-play in mind, he betook -himself to the stadium and preparations for this greatest and latest -show under Earth. There must be no miscues about a performance upon -which depended the success of that “experiment” inspired by Dolores’ -earth-tales of joys, as well as griefs to men. He would make his own -tests of the complicated apparatus, although the plant had not failed -him since installation. - -To establish that the Ball of Life functioned properly was his first -concern. Giving it a turn, he watched the reflector pool for shadows. -When the shimmering prisms of the mercury-like pond had been quieted, -he was rewarded by an intimate look at a naval review somewhere on the -China Sea, within focus of which the overhung ball had chanced to stop. - -The finder he next put to test. This instrument, of graduated tubes -like those of a monster telescope, controlled the lenses of the -all-seeing ball. At will, he caused it to pick up this scene and that, -finally locating the dirigible which was to be the central figure of -the forthcoming event, as it tossed on waves of air above the Atlantic. - -Closer attention did he give to the aurograph, a practicable -device worked out to supplement the spectroscope, which combined -on an enormous scale the principles of the radio-telephone and the -phonograph. Back of the stadium, well out of way of the suspended -ball, the antennæ--an elaborate network of wires--were suspended by -metal-like balloons. These were insulated from Gehenna, except for the -central converging wires, which led to multi-power generators. Upon a -huge sounding board were the messages received, thence communicated to -the stadium by annunciators. The tuning of this masterpiece of etheric -control occasioned Satan some concern, but finally was accomplished to -his satisfaction. - -Back on the control platform, surrounded by his technical chiefs, His -Highness watched the stadium fill. As the appointed hour approached, -he ran up the green walls which surrounded the terraced seats and from -the pool flashed an order that all spectators adjust the small dynamos -of the eye-shades with which they were provided on entering. He wished -none to fail to see to the end the abasement of John Cabot. - -A moment he hesitated, then took up the telephone connected with the -royal box. The lackadaisical voice of Old Original responded. - -“Dame Dolores in her place?” - -On being assured of that important fact, he turned to the Master -Mechanic. - -“Step on the music!” - -Upon all ears burst an orchestration, The Song of the Sea. As surely -did they hear it as though it had been carried hellward by the wind -through shells, crevasses and metallic splinters. As by lutes and -æeolean harps it was played, with crashes and staccato rumblings for -bass. - -The drama of mortal cowardice, destined to turn into contempt a -too-long-lasting love, was on. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -Day lifts from her couch of mists to awaken betimes the Sea, her -slumbering lord. - -Last evening he had ordered her from his presence, as usual ashamed -that she should witness his embrace of that mistress of his passions, -Night, who incites him to the blackest of his crimes. Yet this morning -she tiptoes down to his vast chamber, pale and sleepy-eyed in her -diaphanous _peignoir_, there to hover over him, eager and fearful to -give the early call. - -Will he arise blustering, splash about in his bath and growl forenoon -complaints at her until she can no longer smile--until she further -angers him with tears? Or will his mood be equable? Will he respond to -her sunny smiles and the sweet-zephyred nothings which she best knows -to whisper in his ear? - -Amiable enough he looks. But then, amiability usually characterizes the -sleep of his billowy sort of spouse. Subconsciously he must have heard -her step, for he sighs, tosses restlessly and flings up shapeless arms -as though to enfold her. - -Forgiveness flushes Day’s cheeks, her finger-tips, her dainty toes. -Forgiveness is the power by which, through the blisses and tribulations -of æons of their marital state, she has remained his dearest love and -inspiration. It has kept her face fresh as when, in their infancy, -the Great Minister made them one. It has enabled her to forget his -brutalities of yesterday in the hope of kindness to-day. - -Never comes a morn without much for them to do. For him there are ships -to be tided from shore to shore, flying things of the air to be cradled -when in need of rest, myriads of monsters and minnows to be fed, -shells, pearls and corals to fashion in his spare time. And she never -rests from dawn to dark in her effort to keep the sky clear that she -may smile something of her own vitality into all living things under -her eye, be they fishes of the sea, fowl of the air, or man from the -various islands which so irritate her irascible consort. - -All looks well for her now, unless---- - -An over-shoulder glance she casts about the horizon. There is an -ominous look over there, a somewhat darker speck against the banks of -gray. Are her archest enemies, the trio of fire-eyed Cyclops, planning -interference with the mercies of her upper air? - -No matter what portends, she must awaken her lord. Usually he scowls -for hours should she be late about his call. Forcing a smile, she -droops over him until, with bride-like ardor, she kisses him on the -lips. A moment his watery eyes gaze into hers. Then he gulps from -pleasure at the desirable sight of her; lurches toward her; makes a -clutch at her scant draperies. - -But not for a moment does she allow herself to be caught to his moist, -palpitant breast. Something immediate demands her attention. She -makes excuse--a monster beetle without wings then appearing from the -direction of land. With sweet-soft adjurations that her lazy old Sea -fall not again into a doze, she hurries to meet and greet the gleaming -thing. - - * * * * * - -Nothing had Dolores seen of the dirigibles of Earth, save far-up -glimpses of those which occasionally passed over her New York. Now, -with amaze, she noted the proportions of the air-liner which had -intruded into the reflection of dawn at sea. In the wan light, it -looked to surpass the largest ocean steamship she had seen and held its -course steadily, as though its blunt nose were cleaving waves of water, -rather than of atmosphere. Through the slow rise of the sun an idea of -its speed was given. - -Silver-jacketed it was, cigar-shaped and massively concrete on its -atmospheric track. Her credulity was taxed, however, to realize that -this at which she gazed was no vision, such as that dreamed by Kipling -in “The Night Mail,” but a scene of the moment in the mortal world. -Actual as though she were watching from some anchored ship nearby were -the colors of the wingless beetle and the very vaguest tints of water -and sky. - -As the aluminum-painted envelope seemed about to pass from sight across -the rim of the prismatic pool, some shift of the reflecting machinery -refound it and gave a closer view. The deck was shown, studded with -cabins and protected by shields of glass. Although lacking the width -of the modern ocean vessel, it was comfortably roomy, to judge by the -steamer chairs being placed about for late-sleeping passengers. As an -assurance that this was no cinematograph picture, the sailor figures -engaged did not move about with the artificial speed which so often -discounts the realism of the film, but with that deliberation and -casualness peculiar to the life which is realer than “reel.” - -“Some jump from the day when they flew wooden kites over oil engines, -isn’t it?” - -At Sin’s question, the girl-shade glanced around into that map of -malignity, his face. “Too wonderful almost to believe. In the air, -truly, a man must feel like the monarch of all he surveys.” - -“Untruly, he _thinks_ he is.” - -The interruption came from behind. Turning, they saw that His Majesty -had entered the box. His frown suggested nerve tension, rather than ill -temper. His voice was oiled with triumph over the demonstration of his -most unique invention. Nevertheless the accented word of his comment -aroused in Dolores the uneasiness which had kept pace with them through -his personally-conducted tour of Greater Gehenna. - -Directly on seating himself, he reached for the telephone. “Don’t -waste all day on scenics. This is no travelogue. Get to the interiors!” - -Tapping the box-rail so impatiently that sulphurous spots glowed from -the points of contact, he watched the pool. Dolores and the iniquitous -escort on her other side awaited with interest the result of his -command. - -Soon they were viewing a luxuriously appointed stateroom. The -full-length brass bedstead was occupied by a sleeping man. His -up-thrown, silk-clad arm concealed the lower part of his face, but his -forehead and back-tossed hair showed clearly. - -“_John!_” The muffled exclamation escaped the girl-shade, half a sob, -half a croon of joy. - -A vaguer male figure became discernible, seated near the head of the -bed. Leaning over the pillow, he whispered to the man. Although his -outlines developed somewhat to the gaze, he continued to lack the -clarity of other objects about the cabin; impressed one more as a -creature of the spirit than the flesh. - -The sleeper seemed to feel this insinuating presence. He turned as -if in troubled dreams; covered his ears with his hands; drew away so -stressfully that his head bumped a bedpost. He awakened; dazedly looked -about; glanced at his watch; decided to arise. - -This evidently was a prefatory scene. There ensued an interval -which Satan occupied with issuing detailed orders for the further -manipulation of the great reflector. When the over-grown “blimp” again -was mirrored in the pool, the lapse of time at once was manifest. -Several passengers paced the deck and below breakfast was underway. In -the lee of one of the cabins, a woman, richly clad in furs, was being -tucked into her chair by a fur-coated man wearing a plaid cap. - -“D’Elie still with Catherine!” exclaimed Dolores with resentment. - -“And with John Cabot aboard. My latest in the infernal triangle,” -His Highness pointed pridefully. “Note that they have foregone all -pretense of the love-making that used to engage them, these two who are -agreed to exchange a title for a dot when husband sees fit to dot the -matrimonial dash.” - -Distress widened the spirit-girl’s eyes. “But the sanctity of -marriage--have they never a thought for that?” - -“The sanctity of _what_?” He leered at Sin. “Our lady of many griefs -to men to remind us of that! May she never lose her knack of amusing -us!” He eyed her with an affectation of old-school sanctimony. “Alack, -my poor child, the sanctity of marriage _ain’t_! And even if it were, -these two wouldn’t wish their future relationship hampered by such an -obsolete notion. He looks to be gassing about the gas of the dirigible, -from the way he’s pointing above their heads. Manlike, he probably is -trying to excite her admiration for his knowledge of how it is filled -with helium contained in bags of gold-beater’s skin. Helium, permit me -to inform you, is an idea that earthlings borrowed from the Sun. It is -supposed to be an incombustible gas. Notice that the French bounder is -smoking an after-breakfast cigar.” - -“And is it really safe?” Anxiety quickened Dolores’ voice. - -“_Really?_ Hast never been struck by the comparativeness of reality? -Nothing is really real except eternal life and that doesn’t even -_sound_ real.” - -Certainly Satan knew the value of pause. In silence he watched with -them the shift of scene to where John Cabot, alone as a celebrity can -be in a crowd of sycophantic fellow passengers, paced the deck. With -John’s eyes, their own lifted to the air-liner’s Milky Way toward -Europe, where a bank of clouds darkened the course. - -“Now for something doing”--Sin to Dolores. “Take a bet with me. Will -they beat the storm or the storm beat them?” - -She, however, was intent on a repeated question: “You are sure, Your -Lowness, that they are safe in trusting to helium?” - -“It is safe to say that they _think_ they are.” - -His reply was abstracted. After searching the scene intently, he turned -again to the telephone. “I have keen long-distance eyes, trained to -pierce the Plutonian shore, but I can’t see a blur of that imp Okeh. I -must wireless him a reminder of where personal devils go that get too -impersonal.” - -He spared an apology to Dolores. “Don’t be hurt if I look a bit -absent-minded at times. You are so unselfish that you won’t, I am sure, -when you remember how much other, if less fair, fiends, often need an -inspiriting thought from me.” - -As the pilot drove the great dirigible straight at the sky-scowl -contesting its right-of-way, the winds hurled at it bank after bank -of inky clouds. Huddled against the blasts behind the forward wind -glass, the fifty or more passengers showed with as many variations -their heirship to the flesh. The beautiful Mrs. Cabot could be seen -loosing the hold on her arm of her French suitor and staggering across -the deck to where her husband stood apart. Despite his concerned look, -he tried to reassure her. All showed relief when the captain appeared -among them, his little daughter by the hand, and laughed at the idea of -danger. His gestures pointed the fact that the storm was passing well -over their trig craft. - -“Confident little monarchs of the air, eh?” - -Satan’s chuckle announced that his attention, too, was on the pool -play. Before Dolores could formulate the plea commanded by her fears, -he returned to the telephone with a curt command that increased her -uneasiness. - -“Now, Cyclops, blast them with a look! Strike at the heart of their -conceit. Show them the noncombustibility of helium. Punish them -for flaunting the control of the Prince of the Power of the Air! -Strike--_strike_!” - -He lurched back to the rail; with the interested minister and the -dismayed girl-shade, leaned far out that he might miss no resultant -detail of the electric storm due. And straightway, from out the tumbled -mass of blackness flashed a three-forked streak of light. Directly at -the great gas bag it struck; with each prong of the fork pierced the -gold-beater’s skin. Next second, from three of the separated safety -compartments, fluttered fiery flags. - -Wounded, the great beetle strove on against the odds of flames licking -its envelope body with avid tongues. Soon the captain realized the -futility of any race against time along the unmarked course of the -upper air. The powerful engines stopped. The propellers ceased to -revolve. The liner wavered in mid-air, as shown when the streamers of -smoke ceased to trail out behind and gradually straightened toward the -cloud bank. - -No slightest move was made to fight the fire above. Evidently an order -to abandon ship had been passed. Officers and crew busied themselves -with such life-saving apparatus as had been provided against so -unlikely a contingency. Gas was turned into the baby blimps carried by -the dirigible in lieu of life-boats. Outward they were swung. - -On deck the hapless humans could be seen struggling toward posts of -vantage, fighting back their dearest and best, forgetting to pray in -the panic of this conflagration a thousand feet above the comparative -safety of the sea. A refractory engine might have been coped with. An -explosion of the hydrogen gas used in earlier ships of air would have -been understood and the worst been over in one fatal blast. But this -slow, gruesome bonfire of the helium on which they had relied, these -æon-long minutes jeopardizing the primal, inalienable right---- - -The deck was beginning to sag. Two of the aërial life-boats had been -swung downward and loaded with women and the ship’s only listed -child--the captain’s motherless daughter. Like bubbles, they were given -to the mercies of the air. - -The observation spread that there would not be room in the basket of -the last baby-blimp for all who remained. An under-officer started -to pass out the suits which were parachutes and life-preservers -combined--suits calculated to lower one through a quarter-mile of -atmosphere and provide support upon the surface of the sea. - -Came realization that there were not enough of the parachutes to go -around. Self-first madness gained control. A battle for possession of -the safety devices began. - -The spirit-girl, watching this spectacle from the perspective of -Gehenna, grew faint. - -“Oh, I can’t endure to look a moment more!” - -Shuddering, she sank back from sight of the catastrophe. But she felt -the hands torn from her eyes and heard a sword-sharp command. - -“Can’t? You’ve _got_ to look to the end!” - -The ferocity with which His Highness forced her to the rail ended in -an anticipatory chuckle as he saw that the focus of the incredible -reflectors had narrowed upon the imperiled passengers. - -There was Catherine Cabot, already equipped with a parachute, crowding -forward to board the last of the blimp-boats. There was the Marquis -d’Elie, checked in his regardless struggle for a life-preserver and -restrained in the grip of a couple of sailors by the captain’s orders. -And there was John Cabot, standing to one side, calmer than the rest, -despite the dread realization on his face of the fact that there would -not be escape for all. - -A place had been saved for Catherine in the boat. She did not need -the parachute suit. John saw and his face showed inner contention. If -he was to stand back from the boat, should he not have the chance of -that superfluous life-preserver? A moment longer he stood irresolute, -confusedly brushing a hand across his forehead. As if to shut out some -sinister suggestion, he turned up his ulster collar. - -Perhaps the super-acute imaginations of the spirit audience surpassed -sight. Perhaps they actually saw an evil face lean to the ear of the -mortal and heard the voice of the millionaire’s own of the personal -devils that improve such moments to incite the worst in everyman. - -John’s attempt to deny the disputation of fear and selfishness, -although brief in point of time, was intense. While still in the throes -he saw that another had noted Catherine’s double protection. - -The Marquis d’Elie, abandoned by his guards, was rushing toward her, -his object plain. His jaw hung lax as he reached and importuned her. -His knees near failed him in the struggle to take the parachute by -force. - -And Catherine? With all her strength she fought off the abject -beggar who so recently had played the nobleman. Yet when, as almost -he had conquered her, she saw her husband bearing down upon them, a -retroactive impulse controlled her. So John, too, was after the saving -suit? If she must give up the second chance of life, which she had -meant to hold in reserve, it should not be to John! - -When the banker engaged d’Elie, she allied herself with the defense. No -breath of the ignited helium was more fiery than the invective she spat -at him who so long had supplied her with the luxuries of life. - -When she saw that his strength was likely to worst the two of them, she -suddenly drew out of the struggle and herself unfastened the contested -parachute. As d’Elie was flung aside, she flung it to him. Turning -swiftly, she then threw herself upon her husband and begged that he -assist her into the overloaded baby-blimp, about to be cut away. -Herself safe, she saw his attempt to follow forcibly prevented by the -pilot and shrieked with mirthless spite. It would seem that in this -hour when all loves were crowded out save that of self, hate was well -remembered. - -“Now watch the Cabot coward!” - -His Majesty’s sharp suggestion stabbed the spirit-girl’s heart. She -tried to turn from a sadder sight than the air craft’s consumption--the -burning to ashes of her fondest ideal. Yet she might not turn; might -not close her eyes. A control stronger than her own aversion was upon -her. In trying not to look, she realized that she must look until the -end. - -The loudening laughter of the vast audience deadened her consciousness; -seemed to be at her, rather than the spectacle that so diverted them. -She sought to fortify herself. What though John did turn coward? The -flesh was heir to the fear of death. At each apologetic thought, the -mirth of the helliot crowd crackled louder. What could be happening on -the doomed craft so to delight them? With a dread for the spiritual -debasement of her loved one of Earth greater than had been her own -dread of physical death, she looked and looked. - -The baby-blimp of last resource was lowering toward the doubtful safety -of the surface of the sea. The pilot stood on the bridge, idle for the -first time since the gas-bag had been struck. Evidently he expected -to go down with his ship as had so many captains before him. John -Cabot clung to the deck rail as if contemplating a suicidal plunge. -Forward, the Marquis d’Elie stood equipped with the parachute suit won -by Catherine’s trick, but a lack of trust in it seemed to restrain him -from the life-leap. - -Too long he hesitated. John Cabot, maddened anew by sight of the -Frenchman’s superior chance, leaped the space between them; from -behind dragged him down on the blistering deck. There followed a brief -struggle--an exchange of attacks, a roll _en masse_ and the separation -of a knock-out blow from John. As his fingers loosened the last buckle -of the safety suit, the craft gave a violent lurch. The foreigner’s -unconscious form, far heavier than air, was flung over the rail to a -drop from which there could be no awakening. - -As the air-liner straightened for the last time, John Cabot released -the clutch that by a narrow margin had saved him from following d’Elie -and got to his feet. A glance at the blazing bag above, their one -support, convinced him that seconds were precious. His eyes, however, -lowering, met the level, contemptuous gaze of the pilot. - -The soul of Dolores shuddered with shame for the man she would have -sworn to be brave. Then awoke in her that mothering, protective -instinct which lives in women long after pride has been crucified. -There still might be time to save John against himself. Remembrance -of her own reluctance to turn on the jets that last evening on earth -filled her heart with mercy. She would risk appeal to the Master Mind. - -“I am sickened with this spectacle, sire. Human nature is strong, but -not so strong as you. Show your power by throttling this Okeh devil and -conquering the mortal’s mood. Come, I challenge you!” - -When she turned to enforce the argument, she saw that His Highness had -not heard. The visible of him was lurched back in his seat, enraged -determination on the face, lips set in a snarl, fiend fingers clutching -the high forehead. But that which had made him Prince of the Power of -the Air--his dauntless determination--had gone from him. - -Dolores did not need to be told what had happened. Impatient lest John -Cabot’s personal devil should fail, Satan had projected his own spirit -to take in charge the mortal’s fall. His will, not John’s, had incited -that struggle for the life-suit. He would accomplish his worst. The -conviction moved her mouth in a suppressed sob. Drawn by the ghoulish -fascination that makes earthlings cling to the clay of their dead, she -clung to the balustrade and strained her eyes toward the pool. - -Death is the mortgage on life. John Cabot’s revolt against payment -showed in his face. Craven impulses clutched him. At his ear were the -lips of the Master Insinuator. Facile fingers seemed to aid his with -the parachute buckles. Yet he had seen himself in the pilot’s contempt. -He was putting up a fight. His life-long habit of self-respect was -strong. The pilot was father to a motherless child--a girl. He should -be saved. - -With the Thing which had attacked him--the fiend called Fear--John -grappled. His knees shook, his jaw sagged, his eyes bulged from the -fetid suggestions which, evidently, were gassing his will. If the pilot -went down with the air-craft, he never could tell. - -Dolores, too, shook with fear. She knew what John did not know--just -who was opposing him. Indignation over the unequal struggle steadied -her; cleared her thoughts. Why was all the power given to sin and none -to rightness? By what method had the Foul Fiend projected his spirit to -Earth to slay the courage of the man she would have suffered any death -to save? Surely, what could be done for evil purposes could be done -for good! Why was will given to woman if not to augment the will of -man--why her mite of strength if not to incite greater strength? John -needed her. - -From fear lest he fail was born determination that he win. He was a -good and great man, John Cabot. He had lived aright and deserved so to -die. The hate of Hell was not stronger than the love of her heart. What -The Destroyer had done, she--John’s savior--also must do. - -Moved beyond realization of the spaces between them, Dolores sprang -to her feet and sounded into the upper spaces the vibrant chord of -inspiration: - -“_John, be love-worthy!_” - -Regardless of the astonished stares directed her way, she saw in the -mercurized pool that he bent his head as if listening--that his lips -moved. She seized the telephone which Satan had used in communicating -with the control platform. To the voice that answered she commanded: - -“Get a record of what he said--I _must_ know what he said!” - -Lifted out of herself by her success, she leaned over the balustrade -and willed that he should win. - -And as she waited the battle on deck was fought to its finish. -Self-mastered, John brushed from his ears the insinuations that had -tempted him; controlled the fingers fumbling with the buckles; turned -back the feet struggling toward the rail. - -As the helium from the last compartments waved skyward the flames of -the dirigible’s final support, he stripped off the life-saving jacket -and forced it upon the pilot. His insistence clearly was in the name of -that girl-child who would be orphaned should her father desert her for -a scruple. He urged his protesting fellow-human to the rail; helped -him over-side. In magnificent calm he watched the silken folds of the -parachute spread open under their burden and begin a gentle, oceanward -descent. - -As the gas bag disintegrated, bits of burning embers became detached -and dropped like spent rockets to the waves. John Cabot, left alone on -the deck, stood ready for the end. - -The while, his last utterance, demanded by her who had inspired him, -was given to the vast throng through the annunciators connected with -the master telephonograph. Deep, strong, triumphant, its first syllable -silenced the orchestral Song of the Sea. A cry of victory, it shamed -demon laughter and tortured the souls of the lost with regrets over the -god-great powers they might have come to wield had they but won their -fights. A requiem that rang through the crusts of two worlds was its -single word: - -“_Dolores!_” - -Exactly how she made her descent from the royal box and reached the -edge of the pool, the girl-shade never knew. The sound of John’s voice -had moved her with but one wish--to join him. - -He had, then, heard her cry--had answered her! So near he seemed to her -that she could not endure to be so far from him. - -Aspen-eager, she leaned far over the edge of the great bowl that held -the mercury. But all she saw was the reflection of her own face. The -dirigible must have gone sputtering into the sea while she was making -her descent. Her lover must have met his mortal fate. The pool had -finished its story. - -So compelling had been the realism of its reflected scenes that she -still was controlled by the emotion they had aroused. She felt lured -almost beyond the strength of her intelligence to throw herself into -the brilliant depths--to be clasped as she might have been in that -realer sea in beloved arms. So low she bent that her whisper rippled -the surface. - -“John ... _John_.” - -A satirical voice, even more than the clutch of withered, hands drew -her back to the now of Gehenna. The minister had followed her and was -blinking at her, a trace of responsibility mapped on the parchment of -his face. - -“Another second and Sin himself couldn’t have saved you to Hell,” he -exclaimed. “Don’t you know that this swimming pool is bottomless? Are -you trying to hang one of those griefs of yours on me?” - -His reproach was a revelation to the girl. Even Old Original! Never, -perhaps, had she felt more puzzled to meet overture of male. But she -was spared reply. The aggressiveness slackened from his form. A look of -craft wiped the reproach from his face. He stepped behind her. - -Explanation came in the approach of The Tempter. His spirit, then, had -returned from its projection to Earth to the shell of him left in the -box. Impulsively she hurried to meet him. She had no consideration -to spare for his chagrin over having failed in his personal attempt. -Too exalted in pride was she to give thought to the effect on him -of pride’s fall. Forward she stretched both hands, as if for the -congratulation of a friend. - -“That favor I asked of you--I’ve granted it myself!” she exclaimed. -“There is no need for me to go to him. He will come now to me.” - -She felt her fingers caught in a cruel grasp. Her joy-dewed glance was -scorched by his malevolence. - -Back drew the sneering lips over white, fang-like teeth. “You really -think he’ll draw a ticket down here--that hero? Fool, you have too much -faith in the judgments of men!” - -With repression more ominous than any outburst could have been, he -turned on his heel. - -“Come home,” he said. - -As has so many a submissive woman soul before her, Dolores tried to -hide within her heart her blissful expectation. But she trod on air as -she followed out of the stadium. - -Splendidly John had gone through the formality of lifting the mortgage -contracted at his birth--that debt of life put upon all, which may be -paid only in the coinage of death. - -Soon, now, he would come to her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -It was “afterward.” There could be no doubt of that. His Highness, so -far as Dolores was concerned, had retired into one of his silences. He -must be enraged with her for her interference in the pool play. But for -what could he be waiting? - -True, the concession for which she had offered to pay any price was -no longer an issue. There was no need now for her to be put in spirit -connection with Earth, even had she not discovered that her own -concentrated will could accomplish the projection--that the dead might -return to their quondam surroundings, ruling and being ruled through -senses stronger far than physical. Could she sooner have realized this -of the strange laws which governed her present state of existence, what -heart-hurts of foreboding and regret she might have spared John and -herself! - -Not for an hour of the days and nights since the failure of that -“Greatest Show” had she forgotten that the time set for her own answer -as to her fate was approaching. On this afternoon--the sixth of those -allotted “seven days of disgrace”--she felt herself no nearer decision -than before the end of her séances. - -She tried not to dread. Dread shriveled the soul; would mar her -progress. And she was determined now to progress, despite her sentence -to Gehenna. Hope was the immortal soul of love. Once John had joined -her, no law of the lowlands could kill their hope. - -So the girl-shade was happy in her deplorable state as she never had -been happy when the gateway of the mortal world had opened to her -youthful tread. He whom she loved loved her. That was the lyric of -her song of the soul. Deep-chording into the accompaniment was her -absolute knowledge of his worthiness. Expectancy played a running -obbligato through each measure, with here and there a trill of errant -joy. He was coming, John; must by now be nearing the end of that long, -drear journey from Earth to Shadow Land. - -Every hour helped now. From far away, whispers of the altruistic -philosophy she had taught young Jack Cabot penetrated her moods. How -better prepare for the eventualities of to-morrow than by good cheer -to-day? Since all the to-morrows must come disguised as to-days, she -would make the best of the here and now. - -A bit advanced were such ideas for the shell-pink ear of her infant, -yet to the wee-shade she murmured them this late afternoon while out -for a stroll. Although Adeline accompanied her, she herself carried the -spirit-child to save the maid’s pride. - -Their practice had been to take their evening walks through the Garden -of Bad Luck. To-day, for the first time Dolores chose the Avenue -of Locusts, which led from the palace direct to the Limbian Gates. -The ex-great lady protested against walking beside her mistress, -even when ordered to do so, on the plea that she must work out her -term of degradation. The young mother’s hopeful adjurations to the -instinct-fretted babe seemed only to increase her bitterness. - -How could m’lady benefit, Adeline demanded in French, even though her -lover did come through the gates that eventide? Her own husband’s -pretense to care for her was only the last-lingering impulse of -self-protection. He was assuming the virtue of constancy though he -had it not. But he would rue the attempt, since he was insulting, not -only her intelligence but that of the Mind Prince as well. M’lady must -remember the rule of the realm; must clear her mind of the heresy of -earthly ideals, lest they become known and she punished therefor. She -would be saved a shock could she but realize beforehand that the lover -she had loved would hate her even as she him. In Gehenna he and she -who had caused each other’s fall would be, indeed, bad met. - -“See yonder warehouse beyond the wall?” Adeline pointed out a low -structure. “There is checked all such superfluous baggage as love. Only -hate may be brought within.” - -Dolores wondered that so small a building could store the lingering -loves of the Hadean hordes. Before she could comment, there came to -them from the entrance of the wireless station just inside the gate a -high shriek rent by a deeper staccato of laughter. Down the steps and -directly into her path came rolling what looked an oversized foot-ball. -Close followed His Evil Majesty himself. In one hand he waved a knout -with snapping lashes. The laughter was his and more cruel than his -instrument of torture. - -After handing over her babe to Adeline and commanding a quick retreat, -Dolores hurried toward the ball, which was unwinding as it rolled. -Its arms, legs and head proved to belong to a male _manes_, terrified -beyond coherency. By the time Satan reached them with knout upraised, -she had pushed the wretch behind her and started him after the -noble-maid. Beyond a stinging of her consciousness, she did not feel -the blow that fell. Almost at once she recovered; was able to face His -Highness with calm inquiry. - -“What has he done to deserve this attack?” - -“_Done?_” Satan’s voice crackled as had the whip. “Shouldn’t the chief -inter-world operator know better than to retail me bad tidings? Out of -my way--I’m highly charged!” - -“No.” Dolores stood firm. - -“You’d rather I’d experiment on you?” - -“Yes.” - -“Best look out, unless you want to be blinded until Judgment.” - -She was able to disregard the Boss Bully’s warning by centering her -mind upon her great happiness. _He had been love-worthy, John._ - -“You can’t strike me blind,” she said. - -Into the confidence of the purple-black eyes uplifted to his Satan -scowled. - -“You’d not be blind. You’d only think you were because I say so and -my mind is stronger than yours. Everything is a thought down here, as -you must have learned ere this--just a bad thought.” With the lash in -mid-air he added: “But, thank me, you can’t kill a bad thought.” - -As her hair was lifting to the magnet of the knout, he dropped it. The -respite, however, was not for mercy’s sake. - -“You didn’t change expression. You don’t cringe. Why?” - -“Pain is a coward’s thought. I know that you, Augustness, cannot hurt -me.” - -Interestedly he contemplated her and this, her first open defiance. -“You’re smarter than I thought. You have a certain regardlessness that -is the next-best thing to conscious power.” - -“I have,” she said, “faith that----” - -“_Faith?_” he jeered. “Then I have it, too--faith that I’ll do my -damnedest. I cannot hurt you physically, no. But I hold a record for -hurting minds that may cause you to reconsider.” - -“Not while I believe that all will be well with me.” The voice of her -contention sounded like the balmy winds of spring, to which nor man nor -devil may say nay. - -Perhaps her glance toward the gates suggested the source of her -beatitude. Perhaps he sensed it from his own irritation. He passed her -point to level one of his own. - -“And has this belief absolute padded your senses against the fact that -I am displeased with you, she-fool? Don’t worry. I never let personal -prejudice interfere with The Cause. This faith-theory is valuable with -the reverse English put on it. As a science, it has done considerable -harm to the religions of the world. I’ve been waiting until your week -was up. Why not have it now--your answer?” - -“My answer to--to----” - -“To my indecent proposition that you organize the vice of womanhood. -Are you going to take that Low Priestess job?” - -“I have until to-morrow to decide.” - -“True. And you hope meantime that your love-hound will come barking at -our Avernian door. Oh, don’t deny it! Why else should you be hanging -’round the gates? Why else should I?” - -“But you said the judgments of men would never send a hero here.” - -Stooping to recover his electric lash, Satan used it to punctuate his -reply. “I’m hoping against hope, just as you are. If only he would be -sent this way--_ah!_ My latest wireless from Earth, however, leads me -to fear not. The newspapers are headlined with his heroism. Imbecile -earthlings are going to erect a memorial to him. And, would you -believe it, that hunting parson of yours has used your friend’s death -as a stepping-stone out of the muddle-puddle of his ecclesiastical -disrepute? With Cabot as his text, he preached to thousands in Central -Park, exampling himself through the viciously attacked philanthropist -who, although proved guilty of weakness of the flesh, rose to the moral -strength of a god in an emergency. Get the idea? His plea is for all -men who have been dragged down by women. Should not he know that Cabot -was too greatly tried, since the same she-devil ruined him with his -church? You recognize the allusion? The prayers he sent up for the soul -of his fellow victim were indirectly for himself. As a result he is to -head the new Church of the Broad-Minded. Could you beat it--or him?” - -At her consternation, he chuckled enjoyably. - -“How the people of Earth like to bunk themselves! But you look fogged. -Is your faith getting cured? Care to come into the receiving room and -sit while you wait? I left some unfinished business.” - -As they mounted the steps of the stone-like structure, he added a -mental lash to her punishment. - -“You remember, of course, the lawyer who lost Mrs. Cabot’s divorce -case? Last you saw of him, in ‘The Turn-Turtle,’ he was being thrown -out of his profession for mal-practicing that delicate art called -‘double-crossing.’ The timely birth of your ill-begot, with fatherhood -pinned on John Cabot by Seff’s testimony and the guilty admission of -your suicide, was a-plenty and to spare to ruin Rufus Holt. But along -comes that judge you tricked, Roscoe Strang, of the good-sport tie. -He has Holt’s case re-opened and carries through a daring example of -man-to-man friendliness.” - -From his belt he took the paper-like slip on which wireless messages -were sent down by Gehennan operators. - -“Let’s see just what he testified, this brotherly judge. Oh yes; ‘The -accused did bring the Trent girl to me, but to let me judge of her -guilt. She looked so pure that I was not convinced and stood, as I -stand now, on my right to judge. If fault there was, that fault was -mine.’ After that, there was nothing for the Bar Association to do but -open their arms to the brother they had misjudged.” - -“I am glad,” Dolores said. “For a time I blamed Rufus Holt for my -sufferings. But he tried to be a true friend to John.” - -“I dare say,” sneered Satan as he opened the station door, “and made -a mess of it, as true friends usually do. At that, you’ve got a good -start with him and can use him in our new campaign.” - -Within, an operator wearing a receiving head-dress, sat among his -instruments. Beside a window which commanded a view of the entrance, -His Highness placed a chair for her. - -“The gates will open soon,” he advised. “Watch the new arrivals trickle -in and call me in case you catch sight of your John. I am pardonably -impatient to meet him.” - -To sink into the chair was a relief. At sight of the preparations -outside which the pigmy ushers were making for the reception of the -evening’s recruits, Dolores’ mental pulse accelerated. She strove for -the strong thoughts which lately had sustained her and tried to keep -out of her expression the pinch of hope long deferred. - -“Are these likenesses, sweet Grief?” - -Turning, she found Satan at her elbow, offering her half-a-dozen -sepia-like photographs. She took them; looked; exclaimed: - -“John--_wonderful!_ And this is Catherine at her best. How splendid of -dear Clarke Shayle! Rufus Holt, too. Have you had them made for me? But -why include these of Vincent Seff and Dr. Willard? I’d rather forget -them.” - -“Does the murderer forget the features of the slain? Nay, fair -assassin, you won’t need this collection for your dressing table to -remember your victims. These are stills selected from our stock of -life-films. I am glad you pronounce them such likenesses, for I’m -sending them up to old Mors of the Mystery Gate to hang in his rogues’ -gallery.” - -“To Mors?” - -Satan nodded. “I mean to put a stop-order on the lot, in case any of -them come through ticketed to Elysium. I need their kind down here.” - -“But I thought it was written in the tome called Judgments of Men where -shades should spend the time until the Call,” she puzzled. “Doesn’t -each enter his new estate as he left the old? Must not his Earth record -hold?” - -His Highness frowned at the reminder. “Just because a rule never has -been broken is no reason why it never will be. I may try, mayn’t I? -Queer if I can’t frighten Mors into making a few exceptions.” He turned -to the operator. “Get the old ghoul. I would a word with him.” - -The connection soon was made. Ensued a brief exchange, but one so -vehement that the operator cautioned his master to calm down, lest he -blow out all the fuses about the place. - -“There is one of them I must have, old-timer,” Satan continued less -offensively. “John Cabot by name and physiognomy. Likely to come -through this very night.... _What_ ... What for, in the name of -Hell?... Gallantry on Earth, eh?... Death, you’re a choicer fool than -your sister Birth!” - -As he banged the receiver on its hook, Dolores arose. - -“John has gone on--up into Elysium?” Her voice was more faint from -surprise than his had been strong. “He won’t--- come down--this way?” - -At the nod which His Highness spared her from his rage, she crossed the -room, went out the door and down the steps. She was well along the path -when he caught up with and stopped her. - -“A word to the unwise,” said he. “To be without a job is an -embarrassing situation anywhere--particularly so down here. Your fancy -position as First Royal Entertainer has come to an end. You’ll do well -to take on the next best thing that offers, lest your ability become -discredited. I really believe you’re the ablest she-devil ever given a -chance to work out her own damnation. You have unique powers, but there -is no personal power that cannot be destroyed. And I am the Destroyer.” - -“This position you offer is so--is very difficult,” the girl-soul -protested. - -“Isn’t everything worth while difficult? And you are very clever, -although in ways that may be used for or against you. On Earth you -failed, just as badly managed talent often fails. Here I, the Boss -Producer of a play called Sin, stand ready to star you in a success -such as you, with your present limitations, cannot conceive. Already -you know something of me----” - -Dolores interrupted, although haltingly. “I know that you are--that -you, too, are difficult.” - -“At least that.” He bowed, as if thanking her. “Since it confuses you -to consider me, pray consider yourself. It is plain that you’ve been, -like myself, wrong since birth. Count the men you’ve ruined, every one -of whom turned to good works after your influence was removed. Think -of what you did--the first earth-law for women that you broke. What -you’ve needed is a manager just a shade worse-minded than yourself. Now -you’re offered one and a chance such as no vampire of Earth or Hell -ever aspired to. It is a position fitted to the applicant, as your -employment-agency friend, _née_ Shinn, would say. What more ambitious -rôle could you find than arousing the worst, not in one, but in all the -men controlled by women in the world?” - -She drew her arm from his detaining clutch. “I have, you know, -until----” - -“Very well. I’ll wait. But mind you, there’ll be no extension of time. -Yes or no, and Hell help you if it be no! I want to get you started, so -that I can give my own energies to the incipient race riots in America. -Great field for trouble. All the wealth of the world is there, with -the basest traitors cast out of other countries to misuse it. Go home, -since you must have that last day of disgrace. But be ready with your -answer to-morrow.” - -Like well-aimed shot, the syllables riddled Dolores’ brain. A wounded -doe, she hurried on her way to cover. - -_To-morrow._ - - * * * * * - -That night while she lay bleeding of her heart wound, Dolores roused -to the perception of an unaccustomed metallic sound. She realized -that, for some time, she had been hearing it. Tap, tap, _tap_--it now -increased in peremptoriness. Someone must be trying to attract her -attention from outside the window. - -She sat up among her pillows of satin sheen. By the sulphuric glow of -the night-light, she saw that it was after one o’clock, three long -hours since Adeline had tip-toed out. - -After one and _to-morrow_---- - -The face of the sardonyx-like clock seemed to grin back at her in -anticipation of the seventh--said to be the perfect day. “The faith of -fools--the faith of fools!” it ticked away. - -Until she knew that John was not to join her, she had failed to -appreciate how greatly she was relying upon his assistance and advice. -To choose between His Majesty’s diabolic assignment and the ingenious -torments to which she and her babe would be subjected became the more -impossible the longer she considered. - -Were she what she once had been, expectant of the best because -all-ignorant of the worst, she would have decided, without a moment’s -hesitation, upon what she knew to be right. But knowledge was -weakening. Constant association with sin and suffering wore away -the best intentions. To struggle against fore-assured failure until -the negligent hopes of Gehenna changed to fear and fear changed, to -despair---- - -She covered her eyes from the suggestive leer of the clock-face and -sank back into the veil of her crepe-black hair. - -“Amor ... Innocentia ... Where are you?” - -“Tap! _Tap!_” - -As though in answer to her stifled sob of loneliness, the metallic -sound was repeated on the pane. Could they be without, the comrades of -her youth, come to console her even before she called? Into _peignoir_ -and mules she hurried; crossed the room; threw wide the casement. - -“Who is it? Who is there?” - -“Sh--hush!” - -In the answering rasp sounded neither the lilt of Innocentia nor the -fearlessness of the love-lad Amor. From out the deep shadows that -hugged the palace wall limped the lately-promoted General Cummings. -More spectral than seemed consistent with his brief lapse from -mortality he looked as he crossed the sill. From his once tranquil eyes -shone the hell-haunted look of the archaics. His kindly old face was -stretched and blanched. - -“What has happened to you, Corporal Sam?” Dolores’ tones sounded her -distress at the change in him. - -Before replying he drew the window hangings and dimmed the night lamp. -“No one must discover I’m here. They say His Highness knows everything -that goes on in the palace, but I have risked it. You seem the only -chance of saving us.” - -From the edge of the bed, Dolores focused her amazement upon the -doughty soldier-soul. “Saving you--from what?” - -“From his Great Intention.” Old Sam’s voice shivered into a whisper. -“You don’t understand? I’ve heard that even the prime minister is not -in his confidence. But I hoped that you had wormed it out of him. Since -I understood, I haven’t rested day nor night, although there’s little -I can do. You have no idea what a hold he’s got on those fight-fiends. -I don’t want to hurt your feelings, miss, that is to say ma’am, but -from the reports of your séances you’ve turned some mighty powerful -mortal minds topsy-turvy. For your own sake, for the sake of God -Himself--wouldn’t you be willing to try?” - -“To try just what?” - -“That’s what I’m telling you.” Stiff from apprehension, the old -_manes’_ lips formed clumsily to his revelation. “His Lowness aims to -march into the Fields before Judgment, conquer the Elysiumites and hurl -the Great-I-Am from His throne. Don’t you understand yet? _He aims to -set himself on high as God-of-all!_” - -“Oh, but he can’t do that! How _could_ he conquer God?” - -“You wouldn’t be so sure could you see how those hordes take to -training. Every decent impulse is drilled out of them. The kind of -frightfulness he’s planning makes a lately mortal brain reel. Ma’am, I -calculate that he’s going to win.” - -“No! The Great-I-Am would not let him.” - -At the girl-shade’s vehemence the old soul waggled his head, in his -eyes the shadow of horrors that might not be forgot. - -“You’ve seen wrong conquer right on Earth, or you wouldn’t be here. -I’ve lost all hope unless--From what I hear I wasn’t so far off about -his having a weakness for you. In camp every officer has his joke about -the modern Delilah that’s destroying the Destroyer. All Gehenna is -talking over his neglect of affairs of state to amuse you with shows -and such. Not once of late has he been to most of the sham battles that -he used to review daily.” - -“I am afraid you overrate----” - -“Pardon me, ma’am, but that’s the best. The worst can’t be overrated. -You see, they call him the Hope of Hell. His hold on the hordes is -that, if they drive on to victory in the great offensive, they win -eternal release. They fight for themselves, not him. If they lose, -they’ll be the first cast into the bottomless pit forever and ever, -amen. If they win, he’ll give them rank and estates in the new -autocracy of universal, everlasting, licensed crime. I don’t fear for -myself so much. I and even you might sink low enough to get by without -exciting suspicion that we’re unsympathetic. It’s the Elysiumites that -are going to suffer. Miss, can’t you imagine what a Satanic victory -would mean to a gentle spirit like----” - -To hide his emotion Old Sam covered his face with both hands. - -“My Mary Gertrude never was mistreated in her life. But I wouldn’t put -it past these helliot hordes to----” - -Dolores shuddered. “The damned masters and the blessed their slaves?” - -“You begin to understand. Isn’t there someone up there that you feel -grateful to--someone you’d hate to see----” - -“My mother died to give me life,” the spirit-girl breathed. “And my -father must be with her. He’s not down here. Intemperance, you know, is -considered a disease, not a crime, in the eyes of men. And then there’s -little Jack Cabot. He seemed really to trust every word I told him -about his reward if he did what was right. I couldn’t bear to see poor, -crippled Jack----” - -General Sam nodded. “It comes home, doesn’t it, ma’am, when you think -of those you love?” - -“_Love?_” With the word, Dolores threw up her head. Into the veteran’s -pale eyes her dark ones gloomed. “Already the King hates the one I -love. If Satan should come into this limitless power, what torments he -would devise for the great soul of John Cabot!” - -A sound startled them. The soldier-shade hobbled toward the window -by which he had entered, motioning her to follow. Before opening the -shutter, he whispered: - -“I’d best go. I dare not come again and there’s no way I can help you. -You’ll have to make up your own mind what to do. Only remember there -isn’t much time. He’s nigh about ready to strike. God A’mighty give you -wisdom, ma’am.” - -He had wrung her hand. Almost was he over the sill when a blinding -flash struck at him from out the drab-dim night. Not a sound escaped -him. Not so much as a clutch at the air stayed his fall. His right hand -raised to his cap visor in his old-time salute. Then backward he fell -upon the floor. - -When Dolores’ eyes had recovered from their momentary confusion, she -saw His Majesty standing just without. His pleased look reminded her of -the fearing wretch she had saved from a like attack yesterday. Only the -hope born of her happiness had defeated his power to hurt her. Although -not happy now, she was far from despair. Should he turn next on her, -only faith could save her. She must believe that, despite appearances -on Earth and in Shadow Land, good was stronger than evil. - -He stepped aside, the King; glanced at the procumbent figure; smiled -his attractive smile. - -“Damme if one can count upon the taste feminine!” - -The cynicism he addressed to the double of himself that showed in -the nearest mercurized pier-panel of her chamber. For a moment he -contemplated the dim reflection of his splendid proportions, the -clean-cut features of his infernally youthful face and the perfection -of his evening attire. - -“Is no age or fraction of he-man safe from you?” he commented. -“So _this_ is why he always plead your cause, why I caught him -_rendezvousing_ with you in the garden, why he talked me down? These -shallow-looking folk, forsooth, are the deep ones.” - -“Your Lowness--” Dolores approached him with blaze-indignant -eyes--“surely you do not assume that I or General Sam----” - -“I never assume. I know the worst. That’s my power. I ought to be -disgusted with you, and yet----” He considered her face almost as -interestedly as he had his own. The charm of his smile increased. He -added: “I’ve often noticed that men never get disgusted with the lady -in the case. But I’ll make a horrible example of that broken-winged old -moth, lured here by your light, for benefit of other mashers. Have to -protect your promiscuous stamp of vamp from the outside.” - -That he was angrier than he sounded was suggested by the snap of his -fingers toward the window. Into the chamber sprang a pair of the palace -guards. - -“Nerve shock--_boomeranged_.” Laconically His Highness gestured toward -the soldier-soul. “Lay him out in the Revival Room. See you handle him -gently until I advise you what particular form his mistreatment is to -take. I must work out something especially effective.” - -He followed to the casement, as the stalwarts carried out the victim of -his inviolate will. There he turned, as though chancing to remember the -recipient of the two nocturnal calls. - -“Miss or madame, I wish you good morrow. As your--ah--friend was saying -at the moment of my interruption, remember that there isn’t much time. -Think things over.” - -Dolores took the repeated advice. Through the long, vague hours of the -Avernian dawn she did think things over; thought and thought. - -His Highness said she had power. Indeed, she must have power, else she -could not have flouted, even in small ways, his mastery. But hers was -not the power for sin which he ascribed to her. Long ago a brilliant -lawyer had toasted it as “truth.” Before that she herself had called it -“sincerity.” She knew before trying that she should fail at the task -of rousing the worst in women, when their best had been her Earth-life -ideal. - -Since nothing in all the universe was meant to be wasted--not a throb -of heart or thought of mind--why had she been given power? To lose it -in the chaos of disappointment into which she had sunk after realizing -that John Cabot was not to come to her--that the sentences for the -same crime in man and his woman were not necessarily the same? She -had been anticipating Hell. Although the time before That Day might -be short, she might yet earn progression; perhaps might go to John, -since he had not come to her. Suppose she had the right with everyman -to draw upon the exhaustless supply of strength which they claimed was -God---- Suppose she could possess more and still more of this power of -sincerity---- - -Stronger than the gleams of the up-rising electric sun grew her -determination; brighter her hope; realer her faith. The Rex of -Reversals did not know everything, else would he have realized ere this -that he could not conquer her. And he _had_ some sort of weakness for -her. Otherwise he’d have crushed her long ago. In the present emergency -she would seem to yield to him. She would match power against power, -wit against wit, subtlety against subtlety. She would take the case of -the women of the world, but take it, as had Rufus Holt that of Cabot -_versus_ Cabot, to lose. By stress of her own emotion she had learned -that only spiritual strength was necessary to communicate with Earth. -That discovery should not be wasted. Over the official wireless through -the days would she command evils. In the night-time, with only her own -yearning soul as sending station and the souls of Earth’s sad women as -receivers, would she counter-command. - -Perhaps the time would be shorter than General Cummings feared or His -Majesty hoped. Perhaps The Call would sound before he found her out. -And if she was insincere toward her enemy, it would be that she might -be the more sincere toward her friends. A judge of Earth had absolved -her of guilt at first sight because he saw in her face that her motive -was innocent. Surely the Great Judge would be as keen. - -As for the unspeakable thing known, without being known, as The Great -Intention, that also might she delay and divert. On Earth she had -been called a menace to men. If wiles enough remained at her command, -now that she needed them to save rather than destroy herself--if the -value of her favors did not decrease with deliberate use of them--she -soon would have the soldier messenger set free. With or without him, -however, she would find ways to weaken the King’s hold upon his -military. While Satan was giving the whole of his intelligence to -inciting riot among the mixed races of her own America she would be -sowing schism among the condemned who had been drafted and branded into -the Hadean armies. - -The truth ought to be spreading propaganda. With what little she could -disseminate on Earth and the much she must begin at once to spread in -Gehenna---- - -Adeline’s tap on her door announced that what couldn’t happen had -happened--that she had caught up with the elusive to-morrow. But -sufficient unto the seventh day was the enlightenment thereof. - -Dolores was ready at last with her answer. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -Soft as the light shed from Beyond, a breeze blew over the inner -fields of Elysium. Soft also was the whispered gratitude of the olive -trees and palms; soft the smiles of the flowers of lilies and of -Lebanon, of celestial roses, of amorant and of rustling immortelles. -The ribbon-like stream that bounded the emerald velvet skirts of the -meadow-land fluttered from the buoyant breath. - -Of the trees, only a spruce atop a nearby knoll failed to sway. Too -heavy was it with birds. Although its branches down-hung dejectedly, -from its tip waved skyward a tuneful panegyric. So full was the chorus, -it seemed that every songster must be voicing a heart full of joy. Yet -one there was that did not sing, a yellow, strongly visible atom of -immortality perched upon a low-swung twig. - -His head was perked to one side. His round, quick eyes were fixed on -the glittering hazes that hung, like veils of silver-mesh veiling -countless finer veils of golden threads, before the Source of Light. -He was looking and listening. An excited chirp escaped him. With the -motions of a bird unused to the exercise of his wings, he half hopped, -half flew from his branch to the sward and started with what speed he -might across the greening pastures. - -One spiritualized to follow the hope of so small a shade would have -seen turning back from a company of spirits, then advancing into the -radiant distances, the form of a child--a boy-soul of some nine years. -With an odd, slithering sort of walk, he retraced his steps. Now and -then he would stop and, shading his eyes, would peer in the general -direction of the Mystery Gate. He, too, appeared to be listening and -looking. - -Although Jack Cabot still limped, he had out-progressed any pain of -consciousness over his deformity. Knowing that except for the imperfect -union of his parents, he would have been born perfect in love, he -believed that the visible of him would be straightened at his second -birth. Adjudged an innocent offspring of righteousness, he had been -unhampered by the curse of the world; indeed, had been given benefit -of every doubt. His movements had gained freedom and his features -had beautified. On closer view, however, his expression showed to be -disconsolate. His sigh was repeated in that of another back-gazing -_manes_ whom he passed. - -“Don’t you belong to anybody, too?” Jack asked him. “Mors told me I was -assigned to bliss. I walk so much easier now, I know I ought to go on. -But, oh, I am so lonely!” - -“I know. I know”--the stranger-shade. “It is hard to be blissful alone.” - -At the moment Jack espied the tiny yellow creature fluttering toward -him. An eager chirp started him toward it, at first hesitantly, then -as fast as he could go. Thus met the two passionate spirits which had -been caged together on Earth--the one passionate in his resentment, the -other in the determination, instinct, or whatsoever may be called the -will of a bird, to teach the joy of life. - -In his hurry, Jack stumbled and fell, both hands outstretched. Into -them flew the yellow mite; twittered ecstatically; billed the boyish -lips that quivered into sobs and laughter. - -“You look like--You _are_! Oh, Dick, you flew into the Light after me? -You have been hunting for me? I’m ashamed of the way I used to treat -you, Dickie bird. But you understand now, don’t you, that it was only -because I didn’t ’preciate that there’s a heart in every living thing, -sometimes the biggest in the littlest? I had my eyes so set on a dog -that I didn’t see how precious you were! I wonder did the gold-fish -like me, too? It means something when a boy’s bird will die to follow -him. I’m ashamed, Dick. Honest, I’m awful ashamed.” - -The canary’s response was a burst of the song which he had not sung -when sitting upon the spruce tree, bereft of companionship although -in the company of so many of his kind. Perched upon the boy-shade’s -shoulder, he revealed his secret in sound. Higher and freer and more -poignantly sweet than ever fluted songster of Earth, he gave out on the -Elysian air the theme of selfless love. - -Inspirited, Jack continued on his return over the fields. He -walked evenly that he might not dislodge his pet. And he chatted -appreciatively in the intervals of the song, to atone for his -unappreciative past. - -“There are all sorts of musicians as you go nearer the Light, they -tell me. There are pipers and harpers and trumpeters and countless -choir-singers that almost make you long to die again for joy. But I’ll -bet there’s none will sing so sweet as you, Dick. Once I’m satisfied to -go on, I’ll take you with me and give you the chance you never had on -Earth.” - -By now the two were well over the crest of the stream-skirted knoll. -Toward them, from the direction of the gate, spirits fluttered like -leaves in a wind. Voices called out through the spaces--glad cries of -greeting and wails of disappointment worn weak from repetition. - -As before, Jack shielded his eyes with one hand and peered about. And, -as he peered, he vented a cry that was the aggregate of all certitude. -His left hand he lifted to guard the bird, then started down the hill. - -From out the nether hazes a man-shade came climbing toward them. That -he lately had arrived from Earth showed in the anxiety of his dark, -strong face. When he saw who was shuffling toward him and recognized -the excited, childish voice hailing him, he increased his pace. When -they met, father and son: - -“Greetings, John Cabot!” - -“Jack Cabot, greetings!” - -The large and small hands gripped. - -“I had a feeling you were due,” explained the boy, conquering the first -incoherency of his delight. “I guess Dick must have felt the same way. -Did you hear him sing as we came over the hill? Oh, John, I’m so glad -you’ve come! This is a wonderful place to be happy in. But you can’t be -happy alone. I’ve come back ever so often, hoping that you or----” - -“Then you haven’t seen her yet?” - -“You mean?” For a moment the child-soul stared up at his father’s -emotionful face. He stood on tip-toe to whisper his interpretation, -lest the joy-jealous zephyrs snatch it away. “Not her--not _’Lores_!” - -“She came a month since. I am sure she would have been on the lookout -for you, Jack. Strange you have not met.” - -“Maybe----” Jack shuddered. “It’s an awful journey over. Maybe she got -so afraid of the snakes and the owls and the wild asses----” - -“There’s no stopping along the highway, son. Every soul survives the -dread of death, they tell me. In reality, the transition between the -two phases of existence is brief. At the gate they told me that she had -passed through, but they refused so much as a hint at the direction she -had taken. I’ve covered the border fields thoroughly since I came. Had -concluded she must have found you and gone on.” - -His concern lowered like a shadow to Jack’s face. “It don’t seem like -’Lores to forget me. I’d never give up trying to find her.” - -“She may not have known that I was on the way.” John appeared to be -advising himself. “But she did seem so close to me that morning above -the sea. Her voice sounded so clear--so near. I was sure she had called -me. If I could hear her with ears of clay, it seems as though she---- I -tried to answer her. I wonder----” - -Neither father nor son had noticed two small clouds which had appeared -on the horizon line above the nether world. Mere fluttering specks -at first, they had developed color and form in a rapid approach. They -settled upon the sward and hurried forward. He in advance was of -up-standing form, his face beautiful and ardent, despite its lines of -care. By one hand, he led a fair girl spirit whose head hung as if from -shame and whose eyes, on close approach, showed to brim with tears. -Boldly enough the youth lined up before the two Cabots. - -“I am Amor and this is Innocentia. You know us well, although on Earth -you could not see us. In a way we belong to you as well as to our dear -Dolores.” - -“Dolores?” John snatched at the name. “You can tell us where she is?” - -“Let me prepare you”--in pity, Amor. “I owe my life to you, John Cabot. -I was, in fact, born of your heart beats that day you first saw her in -Seff’s shop. Not consciously--of course mortals realize only the half -of what they do--you sent me to her side to guide her. I have done what -I could. But earthlings have no care for love. They never think to -spare it until after it is dead.” - -The shy girl spirit was moved by her comrade’s self-depreciation to -speak. “Amor has been splendid. He was close beside her when she heard -the news that you had been sent to the Fields. He proposed our search -for you. And he held me up with sheer strength when I felt that I must -swoon from exhaustion. Always he has tried to protect me even as--as -you.” - -“As I?” John asked. - -“Don’t you recognize me yet?” She brushed the moisture from her eyes -and lifted them to his, twin blue anemones. “I am what you loved best -in your love. Although you could not see me as now, you knew that I was -there. You held me dearer than her beauty, than her youth--yes, even -than her passion for you.” - -“In mercy’s name, don’t taunt me!” John’s voice was a sort of groan. “I -did value you. I tried to save you from myself. God knows how hard I -tried. It seems incredible to me now that I should have torn you from -her--trampled on you----” - -“Trampled me? You never did that.” Her timidity conquered by sight of -his suffering, Innocentia touched his arm. “Not for one minute was I -really afraid of you. A great love, such as yours, could not harm me. -Amor often told me that. I stayed close to her on Earth and crossed -with her into Shadow Land.” - -“Even down there we’ve been with her most of the time,” Amor added. - -“_Down there?_” Startled out of his shame, John Cabot peered into the -care-worn faces of the guardian pair. “You mean--she is assigned----” - -He read the answer in their distressed, averted looks. His mind was -quickly made. - -“Lead on--and down!” - -“But, John----” Young Jack clung tight to one of the knotted fists that -hung at his father’s side--“you can’t go into Gehenna. You and I are -assigned to the Fields. It is a rule here that we can go on, but never -back.” - -“Go on--without her?” John laughed in a short, hard way. “There is no -right in a rule that assigns me to Elysium and her to Gehenna. I’ll -find a way to prove that one man feels responsible for a woman’s fall. -Son, I am going to bring her back with me.” - -“If you could, John--if only you could!” Afraid, yet brave to believe -in the power of his god of Earth, the boy-soul gazed into his father’s -face. “You’ll look for me, John, first thing when you come back? A -little way on there are bowers and villas that the shades build to live -in while their eyes and minds are getting used to the Light. They leave -them empty for anyone to take when they’re ready to progress nearer the -Source. You’ll know the one I’m in if you listen to hear Dick sing. -I’ll be waiting for you and--and _her_, John Cabot.” - -“Jack Cabot, until we meet again!” - -In time the boy had remembered his lameness, so did not plead to -go along. The best way to expedite his hero’s return was to let him -proceed unencumbered. Striving for courage, he watched the tall form -follow Amor and Innocentia across the fields. A twitter reminded him -that he was not entirely deprived. Gulping back his disappointment, he -declared manfully: - -“We’ll get a nice place ready for her, Dick--my other mother. He says -he’ll bring her back, so we know he will. John can do anything. It -_will_ be fun being happy!” - - * * * * * - -Across the mystery wastes that lie between the mortal world and Shadow -Land looms a redoubtable wall. Through its gateway any from Earth may -pass at will. But none may return. - -Just within, the two head ushers slumped upon their bench and gazed -over the familiar, but incogitable scene. The well-worn inward path -soon divided, its lower half to drop over a declivity, whence it sloped -“easily” into Avernus, its upper to wind away and away until lost in -that incalculably distant glow. - -“Queer set this”--the first usher. - -“Queer is right--or wrong”--his fellow. “I’d like to know, for -instance, what makes that Light.” - -“I, too. Can’t be either sun or moon, because it never sets.” - -The chief’s eyes fixed on a verdant slope, from whose hazes a female -figure sped with apprehensive manner toward the base of the wall. He -shrugged on seeing a unit of the boundary patrol return her into the -Fields, but gently, with never a threat of spear. - -“One of the yearning mothers, I suppose. Strange how they’re possessed -to slip back to their children!” - -“Children who likely aren’t wasting a worry on them,” the associate -sighed. “Why won’t mothers let bad enough alone?” - -A wail like the lament of a lost zephyr drew their attention to the -rim. - -“That fool woman in love trying to descend again,” the second usher -continued to grumble. “She’s not the first who’s insisted that she’d -rather be in Hell with him than in Heaven without. Quaint, isn’t it, -considering that we don’t have any trouble with men in vice-versa -cases?” - -“Hi, guardsmen! You asleep? What’s wrong over there?” - -With his cry, the chief sprang up and hurried toward the down path. -Ahead of him ran the spear-carrier whom he had called to task. Behind -came his fellow. - -From the brume of the upper distances a group of three spirits had -emerged and were rushing downward, regardless of the shade patrol. -Through the array of spears leveled against them they darted as though -impervious to wounds of fear. - -On the rock-strewn cliff the reinforcements found themselves facing an -aroused man-_manes_ whose like they never had seen. Clothed in an armor -of light was John Cabot, “his eyes as lamps of fire ... and the voice -of his words like the voice of a multitude.” - -“What matter the judgments of men, after man’s little day is done? Make -way. I am going through.” - -“Drive him back,” commanded the chief usher. “All together now!” - -Against the row of leveled spear points, John hurled himself. - -“Right is might and I am right,” he cried. - -“You can’t pit one will against hundreds and win,” the chief contended. -“Stop a second. Realize how foolish----” - -“And what is folly but a riotous expenditure of will?” At his -application of the memory flash, John laughed. “This is--to will--and -to have--my will,” he panted as he fought the united determination -to stay him. “You witness the end--of my social ideas--my immoderate -desires--my excesses--my pleasures that--have ended--in death. A laugh -for--your hundreds--of wills!” - -Perhaps by his rashness, perhaps by force of the wind now rousing in -strength from over the Fields, the light forms of Amor and Innocentia -were snatched up and borne through the ranks of the guard. At sight of -their disappearance into the abyss, John’s eyes blazed like lit torches. - -“Since mind is more than matter up here--since this is a world of -will--let the stronger will prevail!” - -From the grasp of the nearest of the patrol, he wrenched a torch-lit -spear. Waving it on high, he rushed their resistance; engaged them; -smote their thoughts with his thoughts. The two ushers fell back, -powerless to contend against him. - -“He must be a madman,” gasped the chief. - -“Or a god”--his associate. - -Both shook in the greatening gale. Both paled to see that the mystery -Light, which had abided since their entrance into Shadow Land, was -being eclipsed by Stygian clouds. So dark grew the air that they -scarcely could discern the form of the man-_manes_ outlined against the -rim. But his battle-cry came back to them. - -“_Make way--make way for my mind!_” - -Into the thunders that rocked the clouds merged his voice. Lightnings -lit his victory. Madman or god, he plunged over the rim. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - -Early as she dared that forenoon, Dolores had sought audience with the -King. From calculation new to her, she had arrayed herself to please -him. Ceding the mauves and dove grays that seemed best to express -her, she had selected one of the court creations designed for her by -the master electrician of His Highness’s own robes--an effect as of -dawn-tinted tulles weighted by a tunic sewn over with rose rubies. Her -hair she had wrapped about her head like a splendid coronet. To the -handle of the jasper-like staff to be carried with the costume she -had fastened the tiny dynamo of a full-blown, scarlet rose and in the -ribbon of one silver sandal, just over the high-arched instep, had -tied a closed, pearl-dewed bud. Upon Adeline’s verdict of “Exquisite, -madame!” she had studied the mercury lest any possibility of further -effect be neglected. The reflection was of a woman-soul, young, fresh, -hopeful as the early morn, yet already aglow from the red realizations -of her noon-day. - -His Majesty received her alone in the throne-room. Among fulsome -compliments he interspersed his gratification that she had not awaited -a summons from him. - -Dolores was more surprised by this affability than she should have been -by any new truculence. For the first moments she found herself overcome -by what she had prepared to overcome in him--indignation. - -“Then you did not really suspect me last night?” - -He lifted a protesting hand. “You wouldn’t deprive me of that pleasure? -Can’t you conceive how much rivals are enjoyed by the admirer who need -have no fear?” He descended the dais to substantiate the claim in the -mirror. - -After he had placed the prime minister’s chair for her, she gave him -her answer. She would accept the office of Low Priestess. - -At the quiet pronouncement a gleam lit the steel of his eyes. - -“I am glad,” said he. “Sooner or later--probably sooner _than_ later--I -should have made you accept it. However, it is gratifying that you have -done so, shall we say, _near_-voluntarily? You make me hope that----” - -He bent his head and looked into her face. Soon he finished in the -smooth voice of a hierophant expounding his doctrine. - -“You make me hope several things of you. From your viewpoint I ought -to despise you for last night’s discovery that your vamping mania -has consumed a soldier from my ranks doddering enough to be your -grandfather.” - -“You are too intelligent to believe that,” she flashed. - -“Nice work for an earthly audience. But it’s not to your interest to -convince me. I am too delighted to find you worse than you at times -appear. Did you notice down in the world that the virtuous women keep -the devotion of their men? I guess not. One difference between me and -male earthlings is that I own up to a depravity which they are taught -from birth to deny. The worse I think you, the longer you’re likely to -hold me. Pray let me dream on!” - -“To hold--_you?_” - -Something of sincerity in his voice forced the query. Instantly she -regretted it. - -“That _naïveté_ is your cleverest trick,” he approved. “You probably -guessed long before I did my--ah--dishonorable intentions. Since you -ask, I don’t mind declaring them here and now.” - -“Oh, no, not now--not here!” - -With the protest she got to her feet and turned toward the door. But -she was stopped by the compelling look of him. - -“Why should I be willing to invest you with a power equal almost to my -own? Am I likely to overlook how much more deadly is the female than -the male--how much faster you will grow in sin than I have done, once -you are well started? Should I risk your attempting to overthrow me by -not making our interests one?” - -She did not answer his questions. And she asked none other. She stood, -perforce, waiting to hear that of which instinct had warned her all -along. - -He began again in different vein. “I’ve been mighty lonely down here -these last few thousand years. You see, I’ve never been appreciated or -understood. The moment I saw you that terrible Tuesday--or was it a -tragic Thursday?--I appreciated that you were different. To have the -sympathy and approval of a woman-soul like you----” He interrupted -with a laugh at himself. “But there, I’ll leave that ‘lonely,’ -‘misunderstood’ old plea for the husbands of the world to tell other -men’s wives. The truth is, you have convinced me that I’ve missed a -whole lot. Much as I despise weaknesses, I have come to feel that one -would be a luxury. Dolores, I want to love you.” - -“But I don’t want you to.” She stepped back from him. - -“And I want you,” he continued imperturbably, “to want to love me. I -could have made you do so long ago, just as your hypnotic osteopath -could have done, but I’d not be satisfied with that brand. Come, give -the devil his due!” - -All she gave him was silence. He watched her while continuing. - -“In the close relationship which I propose, you’ll have greater -opportunity to quip my curiosity and compel my admiration. Should I -tire of you our community of interests will bind me to you much as -earthlings are bound in that state called--Fairest fiend, I ask you to -become my queen.” - -“_No!_” - -Dolores was dismayed beyond all discretion. She tried to throw off the -clutch which he laid upon her arm. - -“You’d be wiser to conceal your aversion,” he advised. “You are going -to accept me whether you wish to or not, just as you have accepted the -office of Low Priestess. In both cases the answer was settled before -the proposition was put. And it is a fair proposition, this last. I am -positively anxious to care for you as much as I can--more, if anything, -than I intend to make you care for me. ‘He that leadeth into captivity -shall go into captivity.’ Don’t you see? I have acknowledged my wish -for one weakness to give you every chance for graceful consent. With -me it is now or never. I feel that you are the one woman-shade who -can teach me--well, what I wish to know. But you won’t get a second -chance. The Great-I-Am is a softy to give man a second chance in the -Redemption. I shall not be that soft regarding you.” - -As still she spoke no word, he urged more stressfully: - -“Have you no ambition that you scorn the queenship of the Universe? -That’s what my offer means. I have taken none into the secret of -my Great Intention. And until I feel that we are one in spirit as -in state, I shall not fully confide in you. But I’ll say that the -day of my deliverance is close at hand. Soon my supremacy shall be -established from everlasting to everlasting. Ruthlessness shall rule -before the time of the end. How long, do you suppose, can He stand who -is self-acknowledged to be all this weakness called love, against The -Hate, which am I?” - -The question he blazed into her eyes, now uplifted to the demand of his. - -“Little fool, how dare you hesitate? Consider what you are and who I -am--your smallness and my greatness. Consider Eternity. Hell is my -home-land. I have conquered Earth. High Heaven only is to gain. The -time is near when the Castling from Paradise shall return unto his -own. Judgment shall be damned on that day. And I shall be Jehovah. The -Day--_The Day_!” - -In an ecstasy of egoism, he caught the spirit-girl by the shoulders; -willed her up the steps and into his great carved chair. - -“Sit you in the seat of the mighty,” he ordered. “Learn the sensation -of gracing a throne. Queen of three worlds--_my_ queen--accept the -salute of your most abject slave!” - -Sinking to one knee he lowered his lips to her bare ankle. The spot -they pressed stung as though from nettles, then turned redder than the -rose-bud tied against her instep. - -“I am a suppliant, Queen Dolores--I who never was a suppliant before.” -His lips increased in ardor through the contact. “I need you. I want -you. But I want you to acknowledge the need of me. Always have I jeered -at mortal men who plead for favor. I don’t know what’s come over me. I -could take you and make you and break you all in one flash of my will. -And yet--I ask you, Dolores. I _ask_ you.” - -The spirit-girl realized that the time had come for her to speak, but -she could not force her tongue. Gone was her self-reliance of the early -dawn. She had come prepared, but not for this. Overwhelmed she felt by -his declaration as she had not been by his threats. - -The sensation was familiar; recalled those days of uncertainty in the -Cabot home when she had been tried by the evasive ways of John. Then -her fear had been for him and, through him, for herself. Now he and she -were included only as infinitesimal atoms in the universal disaster -that impended. - -Look high as Heaven, look low as Hell, she was afraid. - -“How dark it is growing!” She shuddered. - -“Is it so dark you cannot see that I am on my knees, still asking you?” - -“How can you ask me, when you know where my heart belongs?” - -His lips lifted over his fang-like teeth, in sudden reversion to type. -“No heart that I want can belong anywhere else,” he snarled. “You have -seen that mongrel lover of yours turn yellow with cowardice.” - -“I have seen him,” she corrected, “conquer cowardice.” - -“We won’t quibble. The obstinacy of the female heart is more often a -fault than a virtue. Open your mind to conviction. Can you imagine -me feeling cowardice? I’ve tried to give you an idea of how bad I -am. At least I have shown enough inherent evil to awaken some slight -admiration.” - -“But our standards are very different, Your Lowness. I don’t admire -this ruthlessness you boast. The sensations from love and hate are very -much alike, they say. Isn’t it possible that you are mistaken in the -absolutism of your wickedness? Don’t you suppose that you are capable -of a pulse-beat of mercy for one who----” - -The flash of lightning that shivered through the thickening gloom of -the great room seemed to illuminate her broken query with significance. -The answering rumble of thunder was no less menacing than his reply. - -“This is heresy. You weaken your capacity for sin with every such -thought. Good as you are, I’ll make you in time bad as I am. As the -queen-consort you shall become the wickedest thought of my mind, the -most vicious desire of my soul. Deadlier than death, you shall give and -keep giving life to my love. Undying love--that would be a delicate -morsel, would it not, little gourmet of the hearts of men?” - -“All real love is undying,” she maintained. - -Her eyes held on the distant curtain. Its alternating electric stripes -were writhing like snakes, as if tormented by a wind stronger than its -dynamo. - -“At least, passion is not. Undying passion--that would be something new -even to you, eh? Do you remember, siren, my mention of an ‘experiment’?” - -Dolores, at the look that was lapping her face, shrank back into the -throne chair. At the burn of his hands as they pressed her outline from -waist to shoulders, a scream broke from control. But even as she was -impelled forward and down, her terror became exorcised by the lure in -the look of him. That most destructive of all forces--the brute force -of evil thought--bent her knees; loosened her clutch of the chair-arms; -drew downward her face. Almost had her lips met his in a loathing, yet -longing soul-caress---- - -The semi-gloom was lit by many kilowatts of light. The curtain was torn -apart. From the entrance door a tall man-spirit fought his way. A -cursing demon pack surrounded him. To his legs clung the dwarfs of the -Gehennan gate. Lightnings from the storm without followed him, as steel -slivers follow a magnet. Disheveled, wild of eye from the fury of his -fight, unannounced and undeterred, he forced his way to the dais steps. - -“At last--_John_!” - -Sad from the very intensity of her gladness rang the bell tones of -Dolores’ salutation. At sight of her beloved she had found herself; -had broken the evil spell put upon her; had risen from the throne. She -stood with hands outstretched, a visualization of that composite called -a woman’s heart. Ethereal as the fabric of her gown shone her face and -forehead. Rose red as the mesh of rubies that girdled her glowed her -lips. And from the deep purple of her eyes all mystery cleared--a royal -revelation. - -But John Cabot did not accept the invitation of her hands. He did not -ascend the steps. In silence he returned her gaze. In his ears still -rang the scream which had brought him strength to worst the hellion -guards. His mind hurt from the sobs of the love-lad and Innocentia, -huddled in horror outside the door. His eyes saw only the picture hung -before his entry of a lady downbent and a kneeling knight, their lips -about to meet. - -He lifted his regard to the magnificent figure looming negligently -behind the throne-chair. Gray eyes met black, a soundless clash of iron -and steel. - -Satan snapped the pause. “So--you have joined us, after all?” - -“Sir,” said John, “you have the advantage over me.” - -“I have, indeed, as will develop on acquaintance. I believe you have -already met her known as Grief to Men. Suppose you bow before the queen -to be.” - -John’s gaze returned to the prayer for forgiveness on Dolores’ face. -His leonine head leaned as if to hear the quiver of her lips. The great -soul of him saw more than his eyes had seen. He granted the prayer, -took the offered hand; bent before the spirit of the woman he had -loved until his kiss swept her finger-tips. - -“Dolores, I have come to you. On Earth I was too weak in flesh to show -the strength of my regard for you. But you should not have distrusted -and deserted me. Didn’t you realize, from your own desolation, how hard -it was for me to stay away?” - -“Afterward I realized,” she murmured. “Too late I knew.” - -“I was fighting your enemies, myself chief among them. I had determined -to save your good name. It was ironical that the friend who tried to -help me ruined both your life and mine. Had I known about the child, -even though I could not have freed myself by law, I should have -declared you my wife before the world--not as I’d have wished, but in a -binding pact. Dolores, I have come to tell you----” - -“So we observe,” slashed His Majesty’s sword-sharp voice. “And might -I inquire just why you presume to come to this lady--you who have a -perfectly bad wife on Earth?” - -“I am divorced by death.” - -John continued to look only at her whose good-faith was the _sine qua -non_ of his desire. She, he could see, was eager to hear him, despite -her apparent fear of the Machiavellian presence. To her he spoke, low -and rapidly. - -“I found myself in a burning plane at sea. I seemed to hear your voice -calling me from far away. But the shortcut I tried to take to you has -proved the longest way. When I learned that you had been assigned to -Gehenna and I by special license to the Fields, I went mad with rage. -That you should be damned and I rewarded for the selfsame crime was -unspeakable! They could not drive me back. To be spiritually chained -to earth would be bad enough, yet that would have a mortal limit. Even -Mors does not seem to know the date of the Second Call. A century -on Earth is accounted only an hour here. To wait around in futile -transitions from fear to hope--from hope to fear----” - -“Why didn’t you go on when you had a chance”--again Satan -interposed--“on toward that nice place called Paradise?” - -“Dolores, you are my Paradise--lost and regained, though not yet -redeemed. I have come to redeem you.” - -“_Christ!_” Malice sounded close behind the Satanic sneer. “Just what -is your claim, redeemer?” - -At last John Cabot answered him directly. “I want justice for this -woman-soul. I want it _now_. I demand that you release her.” - -“You _want_? _You_ demand? And you contend that she belongs to the -Fields, she compared with whom the ‘mother of harlots’ was a saint in a -niche?” - -“You lie!” - -At the suppressed fury of John’s declaration, noxious fumes began to -spread from the Belial glare. - -“A strong word to use over a mere disparity in point of view. However, -your compliment sounded genuine and I thank you. Sorry that your demand -must be denied. Law of the land, you know.” - -“The best thing about most laws is that they can be broken,” John -asserted. “I cannot conceive of a great intellect that would not except -this case, once it was explained. A woman who never had an unclean -thought or an impulse that was not wholly kind has been sent into -Badlands, while each of those who contributed to her fall has been -reinstated in the opinion of men. A shop vulture has made a virtue of -his vulturing. An alleged man of God----” - -“Don’t go through the list,” His Majesty objected. “I’ve had many a -laugh over the choice assortment. Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief, -richman, poorman, beggar-man----” - -“Thief?” John interrupted in his turn. “I am the thief. And even -I, the most culpable of all, have ‘come back’ in the opinion of my -fellows--have been rewarded as was everybody concerned in her ruin.” - -“Yes, even down to that delightful old woman who was so anxious to get -her gas bill paid.” - -At the King’s interjection, Dolores sank back into the throne-chair. -Against its high back he leaned for support in his loudening laughter. - -John Cabot did not laugh. With each peal of Satan’s mirth, his frown -darkened. - -“I am not afraid of you and your ridicule. If the double-standard rule -is the law to which you refer--if that holds beyond the jurisdiction of -Earth--then doubly do I intend to break it.” - -“_You_ intend? Really, you are--too funny--funnier than all--the rest!” -His Majesty struggled for control of his risibilities. “Allow me to say -that your visit, although something of a surprise to one who does not -often have ’em, is not unwelcome. It is, in fact, almost too gratifying -to be true. You’re a bold, if not bad man. I have need of your sort. Of -course, you’ll have to be born again. All good men must be regenerated -down here.” - -“You don’t intend, then--” Dolores half turned--“that he shall go back?” - -“My poor child, do you expect me to flout the gift of Providence--even -one sent down like this, C. O. D.? He has about as much chance of going -back, this snuffed flame of yours, as you yourself.” - -Stiffening from his negligent pose, he seated himself upon one arm of -the throne-chair and leaned over her confidentially. - -“Mayhap you and I would have been even more companionable had you -appreciated how much I, too, have longed for the coming of John Cabot. -Perhaps it is foolish of me, but I find I’m just a bit jealous of your -quondam lovers. I’d like to have them all down here as sort of safety -valves when I get bad and mad. Having only John, I’d be less than -inhuman to give up taking it out on him. Besides that great experiment -on myself, there’s a lesser one I wish to try out on you. Now, now, -sweet Grief, don’t worry! Nothing painful. Rather one whose success -will bring you delight.” - -“Please to--tell me--what you mean?” faltered Dolores. - -“I’ve noticed that when the only man a woman earthling ever really -loved demises--shuffles quite beyond her reach, you know--she proceeds -to love, as soon as she can locate him, the second only ever man. I’d -like to demonstrate that the rule holds down here. You wouldn’t be true -to type if you didn’t have a lingering sort of affection for every one -of your ex-onlies.” - -“But I don’t see----” - -“I make John die a second death before your eyes, in order that he be -regenerated unto sin. I crunch to dust the bones of his spirit. I tear -to bits the sinews of his soul. When you see him an unrecognizable heap -in the morgue of Gehenna, will you like me, do you suppose now, more or -less?” - -At her failure to reply, he sauntered toward the nearest mirror; -there carefully adjusted his red cravat. Evidently reassured by the -magnificence of his reflection, he added amiably enough: - -“That Judge Strang was no more a sport than am I. He took a long chance -on you after one short look. After the some few looks I’ve had, I’ll -take a longer one. What say you, fair fiend? Be a sport, too. Come, -let’s make it a bet!” - -Her response was a worded moan. “Why, John--_why_ did you come?” - -For a moment His Majesty considered the drooping, dusk-crowned head. - -“Evidently,” he made remark to whom it might concern, “she doesn’t -consider mine a betting proposition.” - -As if suddenly aware of the hellion guard cluttering the great room, he -amused himself driving them back against the highly-charged curtains. - -John Cabot mounted the dais steps; removed the girl-soul’s hands from -her face; held them while he bent to look into her eyes. - -“You are my mate,” he said. “You have been tried--tempted, perhaps. But -I believe in you. You swore once to believe in me. Do you remember? -Come with me, Dolores. Let me fight your way up to the Fields as I -fought mine down. Have courage to come.” - -“I’d only hold you back,” she sighed. - -“The harder the fight, the dearer the victory,” he urged. “And we -should be together. Does that mean nothing to you? Whatever your fate, -I should feel honored to share it--to serve you through Eternity in -atonement. Where faith lives there is love.” - -“Faith?” A rasping sob shook her--or was it a laugh? “Faith, he says, -is the fear of fools.” - -“Faith is fear? I do not understand.” - -“Yes. Fools pretend faith because they fear. But nobody really believes -in anything down here. Everybody fears--fears despair. He’ll never let -me go. You must leave me if you can. Lean low and listen. Later you’ll -understand.” - -She caught his arm; shook like a reed with her whisper. - -“God sacrificed his only begotten Son, they say, to try to save the -world. You must sacrifice your hope of me to try to save----” - -“_Damn you!_” - -The curse was addressed to the king--the first Dolores ever had heard -from the lips of John Cabot. Satan had approached soundlessly; with his -charged forefinger and thumb had flicked the intruder on the brow. - -“Save your vitriol. I’m already damned,” he answered with consummate -insolence. - -John, blinking confusedly, straightened. The impulses of his late life -still controlled him. With the flash of a puma’s instinct, he leaped -upon the First of Fiends. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - - -Wrath had burned the bonds of John Cabot’s hard-learned constraint. -A fury of resentment over the subjection of Dolores controlled him. -Supernatural might to avenge and save her seemed to come to him. Yet -sudden as was his leap, strong its impetus, that which was material of -his adversary had side-stepped neatly as though he were some mortal -boxer in a squared circle. - -“Positively, you annoy me,” commented Satan from the far end of the -dais. - -“You demon dog, your spite is nothing to my righteous rage!” - -Again John rushed the blasphemer with head lowered between his -shoulders; seized and attempted to bear him down. But face forward he -collapsed upon the steps. His will to kill was conquered by its own -futility. Nothing--quite nothing was in his grasp. A chuckle caused -his glance to lift. Nearby stood the Tormentor as though untouched. An -opaque aura surrounded him. Thick fumes spread with his breath. - -Cabot staggered to his feet. All too soon the realization which Dolores -had implored was being taught him. What matter how righteous the -cause--how violent his will for avengement? This was Too-Late Land. - -Satan clapped his hands; commanded the guard. - -“Seize the fool. Throw him into the Den of the Demented. Get him into -shape for particular torment. Out with him!” - -“_Wait._” - -At Dolores’ word the guardsmen halted their rush. John fixed his eyes -upon the regal figure rising from the throne. - -With her rose-adorned staff, upraised like the scepter of the queen -she had been declared, the girl-shade commanded silence. From her -eyes, as from beacon candles behind dark panes, shone the light of -determination. The time had come for her to test that early-morn -resolve of matching her guile against that of His Satanic Majesty. The -look she leveled upon him was too subtle for even his super-sense to -define. - -“Has Your Lowness duly considered?” she asked him. “You say you never -waste power. This shade has proved at least initiative.” - -“A powerful impudence, I call it, to break into our unhappy little home -in this--ah--vehement manner and invite my intended, right before my -eyes, to elope with him. He deserves the worst billet of the Hadean -hordes.” - -“Granted, sire. But if you draft him, isn’t he likely to distinguish -himself among your conquering heroes? Is there not a warning in his -show of fight?” - -“Why a warning? What could he do?” - -“They tell me that the hold you have on your military is in the -princely rewards offered to your veterans. And has the Great-I-Am -Himself a better name for keeping His promises than you?” - -Crossing to him, Dolores met his combative look with an expression of -affectionate concern. - -“Don’t you see that you would put yourself under obligation to advance -one whom, quite naturally, you wish to depose? Why not return him -into the false security of Elysium? After you have come into your -own, he will be one of your captives of state. You will then have the -privilege of wreaking your dislike on him as you see fit. Look on him -as end-of-the-season fruit. Let him ripen.” - -“And be denied the taste of him now?” Satan licked his lips. “Is this -a trick, she-fiend, to wrest him from my clutch? Have a care lest you, -too, become disliked!” - -“I am not afraid of that.” With a laugh that came strangely from her -lips--luring, assured, golden--she plucked the rose-bud off her ankle -and, from tip-toe, flicked it against his cheek. While placing it in -his buttonhole, she added: “You brand your warriors. Wear my brand, the -scarlet bud. You are mine, as I may be yours if only----” She drew away -her laughing lips just as, almost, he had accepted their challenge. - -“Courtesan!” he accused. “What has inspired you, all at once, with the -best way to intrigue me--to make me doubt your truth and fear your -artifice?” - -“Perhaps I have not wished to intrigue you, as you say, before. Perhaps -my artifice has been in concealing myself. Ah, Pluto, that even you -have not guessed my trickery! I wished to wait until sure of my own -mind. Yours is so dominant, it is hard to be sure. Since what you have -said this morning, I am ready to stand revealed. You have aroused what -you see in my eyes. You should be the last to doubt. This is myself. The -other was all pose--my best asset on Earth.” - -“You are worse than I thought,” he exulted. “I was beginning almost to -believe in your decency, so consistently did you act. Then, after all, -I am right?” - -Again she laughed, this time with him. “Aren’t you always right, you -perpetual wrong? Of course there is no right or wrong to what I’m -asking you. Call it my caprice. I’ve done a great deal to please you. -Do one thing for me.” - -“Make it something else, then.” - -“Something else is never what one wishes.” - -“But I suspect your request of being something more than a caprice.” - -“That even I cannot deceive you!” With the chagrined exclamation, she -thrust her arm in his and drew him aside. Her head drooped, as if from -embarrassment. In a low, hesitant voice, she confessed: “You are too -keen for me. This request _does_ matter to me. The truth is, I don’t -want my ex-only, as you call him, down here. Don’t you know enough -of woman’s nature to appreciate how I feel? I can’t help the way I -was born. I _am_ a harlot at heart. Sooner or later the bad habit of -loving the old love might distract me from the new. You saw last night -that any conquest has its charms for me. Why not---” - -She paused, as if to contemplate a fresh idea. Then: “I shall need -concentration to satisfy Your Lowness’ hopes of me and concentration -will come easier with not the humblest of my ex-suitors to distract. -General Cummings was a deserter on Earth and, as you yourself said, -once a deserter always. Him, as well as John Cabot, you may treat with -fuller effect after The Day. Why not send the old nuisance along? And -there is one other of whom I should like to be rid.” - -“Who, pray, may this other be?” - -“My babe.” - -Satan showed himself assailable by surprise. “Not the Littlest Devil? -Now you have spoiled your argument. I can’t believe----” - -“You will when I explain. Ineffectual looking as is my child, she -interferes with my whole-heartedness for evil. She rouses soft feelings -in me--impulses to protect the weak and helpless. I’ll find it hard to -live down even the thought of her. To see her daily is a detriment. -Focus that imagination of yours, Pluto. Try to realize what you often -must have heard, that mother-love is the most enduring influence in the -universe.” - -“That’s one thing I’ve never been--a mother. Wish I had. I’d have given -birth to some rare wastrels.” He grinned at the thought. - -“Don’t you see my argument? You will grant the favor I ask? I dislike -to plead as much as you, but I make this a plea. Give me a chance in -the one sincerity of my life.” - -“Your one sincerity?” - -He bent low to catch her murmured reproach. - -“That _you_ should need to ask! I, too, feel that I have my one chance -in you. If you are not strong enough to compel me----” - -“One question.” His fingers snapped like a bracelet around her wrist. -“Why have you been at such pains to arouse my jealousy of this weakling -whom now you seem to despise?” - -Deliciously she smiled. “Ah, you humorists who cannot see the joke on -yourselves! Once you said that I was humorous only in that I had no -humor. Since, you have taught me. Tell me, is not jealousy the rough -stone that whets an edge of love on attraction?” - -“I’d sort of hate to part with the Littlest Devil,” His Highness -tentated. “It has seemed almost like having a child of one’s own in -the palace. If she were a boy, I don’t believe I could. Strange, that -hankering in the heart of the worst of men and devils to reproduce -himself in a son!” - -He glanced up at his coat-of-arms, then back at her. The peculiar -intensity of his look was unendurable. Her lids drooped over the -consternation which she feared would show in her eyes. But she pressed -her advantage. - -“I’d like the babe to go along, for her sake as well as my own. Her -crime was her parents’. You wouldn’t fancy that third-to-fourth -generation rule if you’d ever had a child. Come, dear Devil, -acknowledge that my reasons are good. Let me have my way this once. -Afterward you may have----” - -“Exactly what?” - -She lifted her face, pale as a night flower, to the strong light of his -gaze. - -“There is a question between us,” her lips murmured reminder. “You can -compel me, but you want my consent. You spoke just now of a sporting -proposition. Very well, I’ll make you a bet. This favor I ask you -against----” - -She could not control the shiver that seized her. The spit of -fork-tongued lightnings excused the droop of her face. For a moment the -growl of thunder silenced her voice. - -“I can keep promises, too. This favor against--anything--you want--of -me.” - -She had pledged--herself. Her two hands slipped within his and clung, -palm to palm. They and her voice shook with loathing which she prayed -he might mistake for the tremors of love. - -“Dear, _dear_ Devil,” she begged him. - -His answer was in terms of action. He returned to the dais and seated -himself in the throne-chair. He bade the guard unhand their prisoner -and sent the dwarfs to summon those whose release had been stipulated -by the famed siren as her price. From a jewel-box he selected a fillet -of pearls supporting a single, magnificent drop of light, red as a tear -of blood. This he placed upon Dolores’ night-black hair. It was, he -made formal announcement, her betrothal crown. - -Only John Cabot failed to salaam before the queen-elect. Straight to -her he strode; bent that only she might hear his suppressed appeal. - -“Do you expect me to believe in your inconstancy?” he asked. “What -force has crushed your courage, that you hesitate to trust your fate to -me? Because I seemed to fail you on Earth, do you fear that I shall do -so in this inter-world? Is there no voice in your heart to tell you how -gladly I should have forfeited my passport to the Fields to spare you -this profanation? They say that Shadow Land is only the waiting place. -Wait with me, Dolores. Don’t cast yourself too low for later recall.” - -The persistence of his faith both shamed and blessed the spirit-girl. -Evidently he was struggling against the influence of mal-appearances. -How could she have doubted such absolving love? For herself, surely her -Hell was the there and the now. She must remember that his safety and -that of the hapless atom born of their passion hung in the balance. Yet -even him and their babe she must have sacrificed, if necessary, for the -greater issue. The fate of the Universe, which the Maker seemed to have -forgot, depended upon the pseudo-treachery of her looks and speech. - -So far her determination had proved strong as desperate. What that -victory were defeat? What that she slew this sturdy love of him she -so longingly loved? The issue she must not--_dared_ not forget. To -protect the great heart of John Cabot from those thoughts of despair -which, like ceaseless drops of water on a stone, in time must wear away -his hope; to spare him who had defied the first law of Mystery Land -the realization of his own futility in the Lane of Labors; to keep -his forehead clean of that brand more significant than the brand of -Cain--the hate-sign of the Hadean hordes; in saving him to send him as -her messenger to warn the Earth-blest of the Castling’s contemplated -drive; through him to reach the ear of One said to be omnipotent and -arouse Him from His lax protectorate---- - -Perhaps, if That Day was saved to righteousness, He would be told of -her and how she had tried to do her part. As yesterday and to-day were -so small a fraction of Eternity, with all life’s reparations possible -in the vast vacuum of to-morrow, justice yet might be meted to Dolores. - -His Majesty, she knew, had attended each word of John’s plea. A single -fault in the play of her part and her partial success would end in -failure. Not long enough for one of his dart-like thoughts must she -consider the soul-hurt to herself. She, whom so often he had twitted -for her simplicity, had pitted her intelligence against the Master -Mind. Far better not to have attempted the deceit if she did not -deceive. - -John she silenced with a mocking laugh. His amazement she answered with -assumed contempt. His protest she cut short with ridicule. - -“So you cannot progress for thought of me? Strange, when here in -Gehenna I have out-progressed my _penchant_ for you! Yet until to-day I -did not realize how sleazy your form would look to me or how weak would -sound your mawkings. One’s taste is best cultured by contrast.” - -Her glance toward the King was eloquent interpretation. - -“Don’t reproach me with my shamelessness, I beg of you,” she -anticipated him. “It is a point of pride with me. Away, you weary me! -Let this convince you that my fancy for you died with my body.” - -She struck him with her jasper-like wand across the lips. At his low -moan, the illusion of a red rose adorning its handle went out. - -Dolores, realizing that the light of his love also must have been -snuffed, scarcely could repress an echo of his protest against her -cruelty. Lest she fail in the climax of her triumph, she turned from -the sight of him; sank into the prime minister’s chair. - -Her courage was reinforced when the dwarfs dragged Corporal Sam before -the dais. The old soldier-soul’s shaken state from only a few hours of -“special treatment” accented the necessity of his immediate release. - -In the parting with her babe she felt free to indulge in more of -naturalness. She had confessed a weakness there in the strength of -her desire to overcome it. A moment she held the small shade in her -arms. But the cling of little arms about her neck choked her with the -necessity of untwining them. So trustful, so young, so blameless, to -be consigned to punishment! The crush of desolation which pressed hard -on her heart might best be lifted by thought of a possible day when -she might see her child again--see her with her trust, her youth, her -blamelessness eternalized. - -The precious salvage she consigned to John with not a word of her -heartful adjuration that he be good to her, take care of her, teach her -that her mother had loved her, even as she had him, her best beloved, -far too well to have and hold. - -No more did she risk the aside which she wished with soldier Sam, -in which to advise that he trust all his dread knowledge to John -Cabot. She felt sure, however, that he would do so of his own accord. -Once in the Fields, his object would be her own in sending him. -Gallant himself, he soon would recognize gallantry and would give his -confidence to John. - -The King was issuing orders. An adequate guard was to serve as escort -to the Elysian boundary, taking a wide detour to escape the shade -patrol. The fact that such a transfer never before had been made need -not concern them. The love-hound had blazed a trail from Elysium down. -Let him blaze another from Gehenna up. They were to start at once. - -Only John Cabot made his exit loathfully. After the others had preceded -him through the light-riven curtain, he paused; turned. Dolores knew -that to the last he hoped of her. A gesture, a whisper, a sigh would -have recalled him to full faith. He had meant what he said. Gladly -would he have exchanged or shared her fate until that dim-distant day -when justice was to take the universe. - -But she did not make the gesture, vent the whisper, breathe the sigh. -Rather, she forced the false laugh which that hour had stood her in -such good stead and turned, affecting to think him gone, to her Satanic -suitor. Seductively she leaned, as if to consummate the caress which -John’s arrival had interrupted so short and yet so long a while before. - -At the downward swish of the hangings, however, she drew back. The lilt -of her laugh was lost in the realization that he who had come to find -her had left her, lost. More moan than mirth it sounded at the thought -that no lightning flash or whip of wind in the storm-ridden air outside -could scourge him as had her treachery. - -At her change of attitude, Satan sat back and watched her with -unsmiling scrutiny. - -“It is not too late to call them back if you regret the terms of our -wager. ‘Anything’--wasn’t that your pledge?” - -“But I do not wish them back. I am glad--so glad to be rid of them.” - -“And I. You acknowledge that I have won the bet?” - -“Yes, Your Lowness. You have--won.” - -Any show of triumph he subdued. Even that peculiarly calculating -expression in his eyes, which before had dismayed her, was covered by a -sort of veil. - -“The first thing I want of you,” said he quietly enough, “is your -agreement that to-night shall be our nuptial night. I regret to dun a -lady, yet I _don’t_ like I. O. U.’s. Shall you find it convenient to -pay?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - - “_And the sun became as sackcloth of hair and the moon became as - blood; and the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a figtree - casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind; and - the heavens departed as a scroll when it is rolled away; and every - mountain and island were moved out of their places._” - - -Long ago, when first she had become an object of diabolic clemency, -Dolores had supposed that, come a day, she was to pay a price. When, -after all the public pomp and private pose of her regal rites, her -new lord escorted her into the throne-room---- Not until he stretched -his arm in prideful gesture toward the escutcheon over the dais---- -Soul-sick, she realized then the sum and coinage of that price. - -To her chamber through the late afternoon Adeline had brought reports -of His Highness’ proclamation of the royal alliance. Although he could -not quiet the unprecedented storm which had raged since high-noon and -his electricians had failed utterly to swing the imitation sun low -enough to send a single gleam through the clouds on this his wedding -day, preparations had been rushed. To the farthest reaches of the -kingdom great annunciators had blared through the shriek of winds the -bans. Not a rookie of the Hadean hordes, not a wench of the Wanton’s -Well, not the most venomous whisperer of the Cage of In-Laws but knew -that the Belial Bachelor was to change his state. - -And the news was made gladsome by a decree for cessation of all -punishment. For that eve the thought of despair was taboo. The most -fearing of shades was to be allowed a breath of hope. Even in this -clemency, however, the Rule of Reversals would hold, according to the -noble maid, since at daybreak of the morrow all torments were to be -resumed in double force. - -That Greater Gehenna should celebrate was not enough, however, to -satisfy His Majesty’s festive mood. Earth must join in the rejoicing -over his signal success in the most intricate of games, even though -the mortal participants might not be told the cause back of their -debauch. Through free distribution of Devil’s Dew, a negotiable, -bottled quintessence of his own most iniquitous spirits, which had -become a recent output of distilleries under his direct control, there -was to be started that night a series of riots destined to belt the -globe, a spree of all nations that must have mortified the ancient -Bacchanalians, did wireless reports penetrate to their section of the -Realm. - -The ceremony had been brief and the guests few. Original Sin, looking -particularly hypocritical in his crackling high-church robes, -officiated. Although none there was to give away the spirit bride, the -lack was dismissed with the groom’s remark that, thanks to his inside -knowledge of how to force the affections female, she was her own free -gift. - -Perhaps never in all marriages of convenience on Earth had sounded so -sacrilegious the transposed lines of the service. - -Would Dolores take Satan to love, honor and obey, from everlasting to -everlasting, until he himself did them part? - -She would. - -And would Satan do his damnedest to love and cherish Dolores? - -Hell helping him, he would. - -Almost before her change of estate could be realized, she who had been -despised of men stood before the Lower World with a crown upon her head -and a scepter in her hand. - -Her lord’s first marital word had been a complaint. Why hadn’t she worn -the glittering amethystine costume which he had ordered as her bridal -robe? Did she think herself still the shopgirl who had walked, once -upon a time, into Vincent Seff’s “slaughter of the innocents” that she -should come to her nuptials unadorned by any of the stage jewelry which -he had heaped upon her? Or had her late-learned humor dictated her -dress of virgin white? - -She suspected indulgence, if not actual approval, behind his show of -displeasure. Himself he had arrayed faultlessly in cutaway effect. His -two departures from Earth’s accepted mode lay in a scarlet cravat and -his _boutonnière_. In lieu of the conventional orange-blossom bud, he -wore a tiny illuminated nectarine. - -As to so many women-souls before her sacrificed upon the matrimonial -altar, the subsequent feast was to Dolores a tedious affair. Toasted -in varied high-volt mixtures, praised for her vices in the retroactive -terms of the damned, applauded uproariously for her inability to make -brazen reply as the arch-mistress of deceit, she had striven through -course after course to keep up appearances. What though in the illusion -of passion flowers that banked the board as a centerpiece she saw only -the reproach in the dark eyes of John Cabot? What though her only taste -from the adroit food-phantasies was the unsatisfying reminder that she -must not regret her deception--must not allow herself to long for him, -lest her thought-clutch deter him from the brave deeds that he must -do? What though the only spirituous effect of the wine she quaffed -was the realization that, with every half-hour now, the little party -saved by her surrender must be nearer that boundary over which not even -the Prince of the Power of the Air might recall them? With her black -demi-watt she sipped the conviction that, in the emergency, she had -done the best she could; with her electro-cordial frappé, the hope that -already John might understand--that all might yet be well. - -Now, with her gaze up-hung on the royal coat-of-arms, that conviction -became as “sackcloth of hair” and the moon of her desire “as blood.” -The stars of her hope-heaven fell unto the Earth, “even as a figtree -casteth her untimely figs when shaken by a mighty wind.” All be well? -“As a scroll ... when rolled away” was that sanguine possibility. Out -of their places were moved her every mountain of resolve and island of -faith. - -She had declared herself ready to pay. Above was writ the price. - -From out the design, as of ebony and amethyst, still shone the giant’s -crown in bas-relief. The names of Japheth, Shem and Ham continued to -drip in ruby lights from the horns of their respective lines. The -caption beneath blazed brilliantly through its sardonyx-thin lettering. -Except for the omission of two words the text read as before, “SATAN -THE FIRST AND LAST” had been cut to “SATAN THE FIRST.” - -That so bold an announcement could be made by elision! No longer did -Satan the First boast himself the Last. Through what roiled channels -did his reasoning run? - -“But--but----” Words at last came of her consternation. “I thought -there could be no birth after the first death?” - -He answered with guarded elation. “Someone you used to believe in -proved to you to-day that laws were made to be broken. Surely I am the -last whom that law of the first death could coerce--I who never have -died.” - -“Nor were you born, Your Lowness. You say you had no mother. Never have -you been of the flesh, so how can you expect----” - -“I am not to be classed with the flesh. I am a god,” he interrupted. -“Haven’t there been children of other gods? Why, even the Great-I-Am -had a morganatic son!” - -Through a corridor of the palace he led her and into the private wing -of whose magnificence she often had heard. Upon a divan sheened over -as with an embroidered altar-cloth he placed her; with one elbow -crooked around the hump of her knee, lolled at her feet; with a new -possessorship stroked her bare ankles and, at times, her throat and -cheeks. The while, he descanted in detail upon what he now revealed as -his “experiment.” - -Only since meeting her had he foreseen a day when he should find -irksome his seat on the throne, when affairs of state would bring him -greater _ennui_ than official sins _divertissement_. After The Day, -when he had been acknowledged over all and the Universe had been let -loose in an unending administration of outlawry, would not he, as well -as his aides, be entitled to some reward of vice? And why continue -in a career of perpetual exertion after his utmost had been done? As -though human nature could not be trusted to increase in evil of its own -impetus, once punitive bars were laid! Should not he be freed to tread -the path of dalliance--to realize some such gentle vices as he had seen -to satisfy the doughtiest devils of Earth? - -Desire for an heir-apparent to his throne of late had grown in -him. Could she not imagine the outcome of his ambition--a youthful -demon born to dominance, bred to brutality, schooled to undreamt -possibilities of fiendishness? Strong as steel in mental culpability, -he should have the “chance” denied his self-made sire. Never should he -know, hence should not fear defeat. With a super-divine intolerance, -he would accept and hold his sovereignty. Although of the spirit, he -should inherit a talent for strong visibility, taking his form from -his father and from his mother a subtlety of appeal such as god nor -man yet had possessed. A beauty of countenance irresistible should be -his--features of marble pale as the ghosts of Dolores’ victims--lips -that quivered from the very delicacy of the lies they lied, eyes that -veiled in mists of mercy the utmost truculence. - -Could she not see the child of his imagination? Let her open wide those -crime-dark eyes of hers; to-night let his moth-like fancies bask in -their purple flame. - -When he, leaning against her, lifted himself to try his thought, the -bride-soul clutched her forehead and shuddered back among the pillows -as if to shield brain, as well as eyes. Yet even to her own ears her -protest sounded both sincere and false. - -“You must be mad--_mad_--to dream of such a thing.” - -Was not the inspiration of all dreams mere madness? he asked her. And -was not that love which he aspired to feel the first symptom of mental -derangement? As for love’s climax--as for passion---- - -Always had he envied mortal men their carnal appetites. There was -nothing to being the King of Evil if he couldn’t have all the vices. -For æons had he hankered to glut himself with food, and drink distorted -images into his mind. Now he hankered---- Oh, by no means to weaken -himself with this love over which she oh’d and ah’d! Really, though, -didn’t it seem too bad that he who had invented loveless lust and -incited it daily in a million earthlings, should enjoy it only -vicariously? Even before she had come to Shadow Land, he confessed, he -had felt the need of a second-worst emotion. That night of the tale of -her surrender to John Cabot he’d decided on its nature. To think of -the thousands of years he’d wasted! To have been the two ultimates, -archangel and arch-fiend, without having been intermediate man! - -As the lasciviousness of his look intensified, Dolores realized in -herself a certain sympathy. Appalled by its drawing power, she reminded -herself that only chaste aspirations might conquer the crave for evil -to which all mankind is heir. Her lips formed to the names of her -quondam guardian companions. - -“Innocentia, I do not wish to know these dreadful things. Save me from -the knowledge, dear, _dear_ Amor.” - -His Majesty’s chuckle sounded. They were gone forever, the pet pests, -he exulted. Ignorance should no longer be her bliss. ’T were folly for -her not to be wise. Why shirk responsibility for the idea born of their -acquaintance--one wickeder, therefore more seducing, than any he alone -had conceived? - -His further explication scorched her mind more hotly than did his -breath her cheek. Physical desire he might not have. Yet was not its -source, more than in the case of other passions, a state of mind? -Irrefutable proof lay in the fact that desire wakened or slept as -mortals fell in or out of love. Did not the city rake, accustomed to -think of satisfaction as a necessity of his being, indulge it without -love? And the libertine husband--why did he seek it from fresh subjects -if not that his mind, wearied of his wife, must be freshly inspired? - -With every tale told him by Dolores these past nights and nights, Satan -had measured his mentality by that of each of her earthly Don Juans. -Averse at first to the weakness of love, he had come to recognize it as -the match which would fire his affections and, thence, his desire. When -he considered the state of mind into which he could get through hate---- - -He had come to the acknowledgment that, without love, he had missed -mightily. Now, he longed to strike the ineffectual looking lucifer. -Since, however, any satisfaction or outcome of their alliance must -result, more than in mortal alliances, from a state of mind, he wished -Dolores also to long for love. That was why he plead when he might -compel. He could not risk an heir warped in his evil nature as had -been the Cabots’ in body. No toy pace-setter for the sins of Satan the -Second! - -She was the match to fire his imagination, he told her. She was the -seemingly insipid drink which---- - -He interrupted himself to lick his lips. That fellow Seff was right. -One needed a nectarine. She was his nectarine. She was very visible, as -yet the most material of shades. The ways of the world still controlled -her. Once his wishes were her own, she would of her own accord lift the -stronger cup to his lips; would press the cheek of ripe fruit against -his teeth. Already she had felt an impulse toward him. No use for her -to deny that in the throne-room that afternoon, just before they had -been interrupted---- - -“No. _No._” The very necessity of Dolores’ denial, however italicized -in her consciousness the knowledge that she lied. - -As Satan passed his hand under her arm and pressed her bust, she shrank -from him with moaned aversion for the thought back of the caress. -He _was_ like Vincent Seff. The offense had been the shopman’s on -that first day so very long ago, when she had begun to learn of men. -Then, as now, she had been speechless from apprehension. Had that -apprehension come from subconscious knowledge of herself more than of -the man? - -On Earth she had lived down certain inherent tendencies because she had -not understood. From His Highness’ first touch she had trembled, even -as on that day in Dr. Willard’s study when she had implored the hunting -parson of All Mankind to teach her the religion said to cover game like -her from just such hunters as he. The carnality of mortals she had come -to excuse because component of the flesh. Since, instead, it was shown -her to be component of the mind--since she was protected no longer by -her innocence--since here in the inter-world she was hunted by the most -expert of mental sportsmen---- - -Dolores strove for perspective. How ghoulish an ambition, this desire -of Satan for desire! What could be more inhuman than a passion of the -imagination without hope? And yet he hoped. _What_ was his hope? - -An odious thrill answered the question--a thrill which she knew to -be the first farthing of the price she was to pay. The sum total, -then, would be the development of her evil possibilities to the utter -obliteration of the good. All that she had saved of her better self -from her late estate was to be burned to dross by that recognized -flicker of passion which had lit this conflagration. The King, by the -heat of his diabolical imaginings, would kindle, then fan her with the -winds of his swift thought. Her spiritual inflammability was her real -value to him, as had been that of her body to men. He had praised, as -had they, her beauty, her _naïveté_, her teasing silences, but had -passed without a glance others as exceptional as she. That worst of her -which, in the physical, had wrecked her chances on Earth, would wreck -those mental which she still had hoped to realize in Shadow Land. Even -though she saved The Day to the Great-I-Am, she would not by then be a -fit subject for reward. Spiritually ruined, she would be no mate for -John Cabot. Well it was that she had not known in time the fullness of -the price, else might she have been too niggard-souled to contract to -pay. - -Forewarned in these premonitions of her fate, the spirit-girl felt, as -never in the past, her own impotency. Innocentia gone, the love-lad -Amor gone, her babe, gallant Old Sam, and now John--all who might -have helped her she had sent beyond recall. Evil expectation was a -compelling force; that she had learned from Clarke Shayle. Even now, -the Master Mind was compelling her--vehemently, evilly expecting of -her. Would she give? - -“I am a perfectly free immoral agent,” His Majesty boasted. “You -believe that, don’t you, my poor child? I can seize your mind and hold -it to the last split-second of Eternity, whether you will or no. You -liked that molecule of suppressed power in your love-hound. Aren’t you -appealed to by the fact that I am at this moment suppressing all the -molecules of power that have run the world?” - -Dolores felt shocked by several perceptions. He had licked his lips; -had called her “my child”; had concentrated his magnetism upon her; -with deliberate intent, was attracting her through the same means used -unintentionally by John Cabot. As he argued, he bent upon her a smile -no more youthful or friendly than that of the lawyer who had won her -confidence only to spoil John’s life and her own. And he wore a scarlet -tie. - -He was, in his conversion of her to his will, like each one of those -mortal men who had converted her. In one consummate personality he -combined their characteristics. Everyman was a part of him. He was all -men. - -Since detached integrals of himself had brought her irrevocably to -grief on Earth, what chance had she to resist him as a whole? Despite -her guard, the despondent thought must have shown in her face. - -“You do not need to answer in words.” His Highness pressed the point. -“The idea of rectitude, grafted onto women by convention, embarrasses -you. Don’t think of yielding to me. Think, rather, of yielding to -your worse and greater self. You, so lately and so rarely physical, -must share my mental hunger for the appetites. You will feed me -with thoughts of fulfillment? This passion that you have aroused in -mortal males, since born of the mind, on the mind must have violent -recoil. You will tell me--will teach me? I shall not bore you. If the -response of men diverted you, how much greater the diversion of a god’s -response! Is it not an ambition worthy even of you--to inspire the -passion of an immortal whose fervor has not been spent in birth or life -or death? Think of my tireless excesses, of my ingenuity, of my eternal -crave for you! Think of the procreative possibilities of a superman!” - -“You explained to me yourself,” the girl-soul sobbed, “that nothing -could be created in Gehenna--that down here it is always too late.” - -“It is never too late for me to do worse.” - -“But this heir you speak of--must he not come of a mother as well as a -father? I, at least, am subject to the rules that govern earthlings. I -have been born of the flesh and I have died.” - -“You quibble.” His frown showed irritation. “Aren’t you lifted to my -estate by our alliance? What you were doesn’t matter, except that your -late mortality brings new vigor to our line. What you are becomes -merged in me. What you shall be----” - -The hand that pressed up her arm and gripped her neck pricked as with -many needles from his impatience. Her head he drew backward, as he -lifted to his knees on the couch and leaned over her. Her eyes dilated -under the close gaze of his. Her lips moved to the syllables of his -slow, low declaration. - -“When the thought-lust in you has conquered your affectations--from the -moment of the consummation of the union of our minds--you shall be a -goddess--my goddess--for aye.” - -Strangely enough, his egotism did not offend her. An expression of -power, it bade fair to convince her. Warning herself that she must not -be convinced, she tried to get from his grasp. - -But he held her. “I’d love to love you, sweet Grief,” he murmured close -to her lips. “Ask me to kiss you, Dolores, as once you asked a man -of Earth. Beg me to take you, you devil’s desire. Let our moment of -forever start _now_.” - -His reminder helped her to tear her will from his and throw it, like -a tangible thing, to the thought of John. Pushing him away, she found -voice to defy him. - -“I’ll never ask you. That moment never can start.” - -“Fair fiend, don’t try me too far. I want to want you. I desire desire.” - -As his fingers closed around Dolores’ throat, she was weakened by the -thought of strangling. She could not speak, either to deny or implore. - -“And you,” he rasped, “shall want me to want you until you’ll pray -that your mind may burn to ash from its own ardor. Or will you -teach me willingly--inspire me as you best know how? I prefer to be -your lover--to miss not a nibble of that smooth cheek, my luscious -nectarine. But I am also your legal lord. And I have tutored too many -legal lords of Earth in their brutalities to miss my divine right now. -I am your master. Ask me to kiss you, slave.” - -Dolores strove for the sort of courage that had enabled her before -to repel him. Just one strong, good thought might release her. From -the least likely source--his clutch of her--it came. Baby fingers had -clung tight about her throat a few hours since. She was a mother, and -a mother was enslaved only by her motherhood. She freed herself of his -grip; struggled to her feet; started across the room. - -“My wager did not include wants of my own,” she defied him. “You ask -more than I can pay.” - -“More? I haven’t begun to ask!” - -From the closeness of his voice she realized without glancing back that -he was following. The strength of her good thought was scattered by -panic. All she could do was to flee. - -She hurried to the windows, but found them shuttered against the storm. -Behind object after object of the room she took a stand, only to desert -it on his near approach. - -He, like a fate evil, leisurely, sure to overtake, pursued. He laughed -from excess of exhilaration when the inevitable occurred. Her long -tulle-like veil caught about the winged foot of an illusion of Mercury. -As though by jealousy of the speed god she was tripped; was about to -fall. He caught her. - -“Why did you have to stop? This has been _wonderful_--never could be so -wonderful again! Whatever inspired you with the knowledge that the way -to ask is to deny?” - -Freeing the veil, he wrapped it around and around her, binding her -hands to her sides. - -“Your intuition is keener than all my keenness,” he panted. “Of course -the fleeing woman is the woman one must overtake. To ask me you have -aroused me to ask you. Your lips, Dolores--I ask your lips.” - -He flung her down; knotted the ends of the scarf about her sandals; -crowded over her. The lecherous look of him silenced any protest. His -eyes were aflame and from his whole person fumed that ruddy effluvium -which came of his concentration. - -As measured by the slow approach of his face to hers, a death-time of -dreading thoughts preoccupied Dolores. Fragile as were her bonds, she -could not throw them off. Her resistance, she knew, was weakening. -Suppose her mind consented; what then? - -Repeatedly had he forced her to his evil will; at times had justified -his boast of making her like--almost love him. Now he was overcoming -her as by a drug, none the easier to resist because she knew it to -be the soporific of sin. Did soul-lust, then, beget soul-lust? Could -he make her crave him to some mental excess? Could spirit be welded -with spirit in such infernal way that the conscience would be raped as -bodies were raped on Earth--ruined for progress and admittance among -unsullied consciences after That Day? - -And the outcome of such a ghoulish union? What manner of offspring -would be theirs--if offspring indeed there might be--child-fiend -incarnate--spirit-spawn of the passion of an unbodied god? - -For her to have begotten the heir-apparent of Gehenna--that would prove -righteous the Judgments of Men, even should the Greater Judge consider -revoking her decree. Never again could she hope to see John Cabot and -her babe. - -And yet--and yet---- - -She had fought her fight with such strength as she could command. -What though she lost her own immortal soul through weakness--had not -weakness as well as strength been given unto her? She had not been -wasted. She had saved those two best-beloved. And, in saving them, had -she not saved the greater part of herself? All her loyalty had gone -with John. Their babe was the bloom of her heart, that “one, half-blown -rose” of the doomed gardener’s plea. The safety of them who were all -the good in her she had bought. Surely the rest of her did not matter -much. Why now haggle over the price? - -The query dismissed her resistance. Her mind opened to her master’s -mind, her eyes to his eyes, her lips to his lips. A hideous impulse -moved her, like the mania to leap from some incalculable height. -Thought-pulse for thought-pulse, her sensation roused to his. A moan of -torturing expectance escaped her.... She closed her eyes.... - -_She wanted to want him._ - -In the blackness, Dolores saw the blacker truth. Her swooning sense -of obligation to self was shocked into revival. Not him so much as -something in herself must she resist--that desire put in woman to be -mothers of men. Response meant utter degradation. More culpable than -he who had not known the uplift of true love, she would sink lower far -in hate’s degeneration. Down and down ... always down ... forever and -forever down.... - -“I am a woman soul--I must have love to live, not lust!” - -With the cry, she tore herself out of his grasp. And as she regained -her feet, the bonds that had seemed so strong, broke apart, like -dampened tissue. - -“_Vampire._” - -His Highness’ hands clutched for her loosened hair. As again she fled -him, he leaped in pursuit; abetted his steps with his hands; pulled -himself forward with grasps of this and that. When he saw that she -was trying the entrance door, he stopped in derisive anticipation of -her return. A gleaming object from his pocket he waved at her, as -illustration of the mental ban: - -“The key, my queen--come get the key.” - -His chortles loudened at her desperate exclamation: - -“If only I could pray!” - -Abruptly, however, he ceased to laugh. He stood alone in the chamber. -The locked door had opened to his captive bride. She had passed into -the hall. - -He followed. Nearer animal instincts than ever in his past, his tall -form bent until he ran on toes and finger-tips. Through the private -hallway he raced after her--along the central corridor of the palace -into the throne-room. - -The great auditorium was dark, except for the jewel-voltage of the -altered Mephistophelian coat-of-arms. With intent to point its full -significance, the All-Man headed off his quarry from doors and windows -and drove her toward the dais. There he seized the back-waving banner -of her hair and dragged her up the steps. With his free hand he -gestured upward. - -“Your artistry is unexcelled, Queen Dolores--your sense of fitness -finer than mine own. That you should lead me here is a right royal -inspiration.” - -Further excited by her struggles, he laughed the louder. Sinking on one -knee, he again crowded over her. - -“You have taught me and I have learned. No longer do I ask. I take. -Lo, at this touch of you, resistant, I feel--I _feel_! Your life--at -this taste of them--a-ah, almost do I taste! At last, fiend-houri--at -last--at last--our eternal moment has begun.” - -As he held her head to the step, Dolores saw that the horns which a few -minutes before had been neatly trimmed, were showing through his hair. -Not daring to face the compelling power which had made possible this -phenomenon, she shifted her gaze, first to the escutcheon, then quickly -to the dome. - -“If only I knew you, God!” - -“That name in my presence again?” Irony followed the Belialic snarl. -“Why hang back for an introduction if you believe the Great-I-Am -stronger than I? It wouldn’t be the first time total stranger had -rescued damsel in distress. Why not ask Him, little heathen? It will do -no harm to ask.” - -Unloosening his hand from her hair, he jerked her to her feet. Dolores, -not knowing what next he might will, backed to the wall. There, with -eyes and arms uplifted, she acted in earnest upon his mocking advice. - -“_God save me_,” she voiced her first prayer. “I am sinking. I shall be -lost. Are you there, O God? Only you can save my soul.” - -Higher than the arch-blasphemer’s shrieks of derision, fugued the storm -winds without. At their demand, the entrance doors swung wide; admitted -them. Across the great room they swept, gentling only at the flutter of -veilings about the girl-soul at bay against the wall. - -Close after them lightnings slashed the darkness. Behind her head, from -tip to tip of her upraised hands, thence to her sandled feet, they -concentrated in rays of blinding light. - -Crouched to spring, Satan fell back as if struck. In the down-shed -blaze his face worked with superstition. His whine of a maddened dog -slashed across the eyes with a whip, ended in two gasped words. - -“_The Cross!_” - -Into power unmeasured by watts or kilowatts increased the rays. They -irradiated the face of her whose shape they framed with a beauty never -before seen in Gehenna--the beauty of realized hope. - -The uproar of the storm concentrated in one stupendous crash. From out -the contrasting stillnesses, there then spoke a voice calmer and deeper -than the deepest tone of the sea--“a voice ... as the voice of many -waters and ... of a great thunder and ... of harpers harping with their -harps”: - -“_Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God._” - -Prone fell the Destroyer, lest he be destroyed. Face downward before -that sign, which was the sign of his one fear, he writhed upon the -floor. From his forked tongue of a snake hissed threats and pleas: - -“Go away! How dare you trespass into the kingdom I have made for -myself? Don’t blast me. You promised time until Judgment. I’ll give up -the girl-shade. I’ll do anything you say. Don’t blast me now. I might, -you know, repent.” - -Without daring to look up, he tugged at the hem of Dolores’ robe. - -“You’re to go--to leave Gehenna,” he upflung in his immortal fright. -“Don’t wait to prepare. Take this signet ring. It will pass you through -the gates. Hurry, lest you ruin me with the rest of those that craved -you. Go, Dolores. As you love me--as you hate--for Hell’s sake, _go_!” - -For long after she had gone he lay. Only his lips moved, muttering. - -“He could have finished me that time. He must have certain powers of -His own, like--like her. Since He can come and go at will, I wonder why -He waits. To-night--I feel afraid--that my Great Intention----” - -The winds sounded to be subsiding. Evidently they had roused in his -spirit-bride’s defense. In time he risked a glance toward the Sign. -Entirely it had faded. Not a glimmer of it remained to place that -picture of wondrous loveliness which lately it had lit. - -A sob racked His Lowness. His hands searched about, as though for some -treasure he had lost. - -“Dolores, _Dolores_, Grief to Men and me. What a fate, to learn love -from the loss of it!” - -His fingers found something to clutch. Sitting up, he examined what -they contained--fragments of the illusion of her veil. He bathed his -face in them; swayed sensuously to the feel of them. - -“Even the mist of your memory weakens me. Wasted--_you_--when I may -never be so bad again?” - -He became interested in a stinging sensation in one eye never felt -before. With a forefinger he touched the lid. Its tip was not moist. -Yet the pressure within increased. Excitement caught him as he realized -what must be about to occur. He lifted his voice in a shouted command. - -“Holder of the Tear Bowl! Quick--to hand--the Bowl!” - -When only the reverberations of his voice made response, he bemoaned -the lost opportunity. - -“Through the sorrows of all ages to expect it, only that, when it -comes, none should be here to catch it!” - -It fell. A great, gleaming, heavy drop, it slipped from beneath its -lid. Salt as brine, it smarted as it rolled down his cheek. Yet no -watery, crocodile effluence was this. It did not spatter on the floor. -Lasting as a diamond it looked. - -Carefully he picked it up. Solemnly he examined it. This tear that he -had shed--his first--was of that sincerest sort, a tear of pity for -himself. - - * * * * * - -The while, straight and swift as the spirit’s cry, Dolores had fled the -palace. Out of the portal and through the gate she ran, past darting -demons abroad to enjoy the fury of the storm. A slim creature in white -gleaming through the blackness, she fluttered the imagination of a -group of celebrants staggering from an overplus of draughts inhaled to -the consort of the King. With raucous cries and out-clutching hands, -several pursued her. But too slow were they, or too fleet she. - -At the Gehennan gates, the guard fell back, advised by the evil eye of -the royal signet ring. Once safely outside, she turned and flung the -blazing trophy back to them. - -Seemingly alone, she felt the presence of guards stronger than they -and more spiritual than herself. These she did not fear to trust, so -tenderly did shadowy wings seem to surround her, so firmly was she -steadied from stumbling, so wise was the counsel she heard. Although -the storm still raged, lightnings concentrated before her and illumined -her way, as up and up she sped. - -And with her sped happy thoughts. John she soon should find. That -she knew. Her feet were swift from lightsomeness and he could not -have progressed far, all weighted as he was by the burden of his -disappointment. Amor and Innocentia--even now her sweet comrades must -be seeking her. All things of her they knew and never for long had -they deserted her. Since they were not born of Earth, they must be -well acquainted with the by-paths of this strange Beyond. Should the -way to John prove difficult, the love-lad would lead her aright. And -if reproach still looked from out the soul of him she had forsworn, -Innocentia would appeal. John and their babe she soon should find and -all be well. - -Broader and brighter before her shafted that penetrating Light whose -rays she had seen to reach the soddenest scenes of Earth and the -dankest depths of the Lower Land. Now it dispersed the shadows from her -dreading heart and darkened mind. - -Her former nescience, then, had not mattered to the Great-I-Am! He had -known her all along; had deplored her plight; had awaited her wish for -an introduction. That restraint which so had fascinated her in one of -Earth was but an impulse from infinite restraint. No longer need she -fear for the fate of the Universe. The All-Power which had restrained -itself toward her that she might work out her own development, would -strike when the souls of men cried out, even as she had cried, their -dependence. Come The Day, His Majesty would fail of his own impotency. -Faith, then, was not the fear of fools. Faith was the courage of gods -and men, a heritage divine. - -No voice of sad women or of sobbing winds was Dolores’ as, peering and -hurrying, her joy lifted in fragments of lines learned from a singer on -Earth. - -“_Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom...._” - -Now a flash of white through whiteness, she sped and sang: - -“_The night is dark and I am far from home...._” - -Into the land of hope--into air so vital that realization seemed -already reached--into a life of no more sorrows, no more tears---- - -“_Lead Thou me on._” - -From neither sun nor moon came the glory that lit the girl-soul’s way. -She knew and knew. “Home” the Light was leading her. From it she had -come. To it she now was returned. - -The strength of that Hell she had fled was only hate. - -The Light--the _Light_ was Love. - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -A number of typographical errors were corrected silently. - -Cover image is in the public domain. - -There was no chapter XIX in the original. Original chapter numbering -retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAMNED *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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