"Oh, Hi beg of you," says he, "to say nothing over there. Knowing as Hi
do that both you and Mr. Wright are very violent men, and caring as Hi
do for Hemmy, the 'ousemide, sir, Hi feel most uneasy--Hi do, indeed."
"Well, if that's the way you feel, William," says I, "you go on back in
the house."
"You don't mean any violence, Hi 'ope, sir?"
"I don't know yet what I mean; but go on back in."
He turns around just about in time, for now I seen two or three people
coming in at our front gate. I didn't know any of them. They was young
fellows. One of them ast me if I knew anything about the alleged
elopement. Then I seen word had got out somehow--like enough from our
Annette or their Emmy, and these was maybe newspaper reporters come up
to see about it.
"I haven't heard of any elopement," says I. "I was just calling our
butler down for flirting some with one of their hired girls over there."
"May we talk to your butler?" ast one of them.
"No; you can't," says I, "because he's gone in to see about breakfast."
One of the young fellows looked up and sort of scratched his head with a
lead pencil.
"I say," says he, "are we on a high love story or one of the servants'
quarters? Tell us, friend"--he says to me--"can't you help us out on
this?"
"It ain't in my line of business," says I; "but it seems plain, if their
hired man has run away with our maid, or our butler run away with
theirs, it ain't story enough to bother a alderman or his foreman about
before breakfast."
"Well, lemme get a picture of the wall, anyways," says he; and he done
that before I could help it.
"Have you got one of your butler?" he ast.
"No, we ain't; and you can't get none. We don't bother about the lower
classes," says I.
So they laughed and bimeby went on away. I give them some
cigarettes--all I had; and they said I was a good scout, like enough.
Well, of all the papers that tried to get a story that morning, not one
printed a word except one. It come out with about a colyum in the paper
all about a mysterious disappearance in Millionaire Row. It allowed that
nobody could tell who had disappeared, but some said that Old Man Wisner
had run off with one of Alderman Wright's hired girls, and others said
that Old Man Wright had eloped with Mrs. Wisner, while others declared
that the Wrights' butler had eloped with the second-floor maid of the
Wisner household; though still others insisted the Wisner gardener had
disappeared with the heiress of Alderman Wright, the well-known citizen
whose re-election at the coming term was practically assured.
That paper printed some pictures too--one of Old Man Wisner and one of
Bonnie Bell, allowing that he was our butler and the one of Bonnie Bell
was the picture of the second-floor maid of the Wisner household. I
reckon they had them pictures already in their newspaper office. But
they printed a new picture of the Wisner wall and said some more funny
things about that, like they had before.
This wasn't no funny time for us. The next day there was a big fire or
something, and all those people got to writing about something else; and
they let us alone.
After they'd gone away that morning Old Man Wright ast me if I'd learned
anything. Then I told him about how William had made signs that morning
across the wall to people in that house.
"Now it seems to me like this, Colonel," says I: "I never went to sleep
that night, and neither did Bonnie Bell. When she seen them lights on
the windows, maybe she went to her own window. He was maybe standing
there and seen her. Maybe she seen him. Maybe all at once it come over
her that she'd have to--she'd have to---- Well, you know what I mean."
He nodded then.
"You see, it must of come over the pore girl all at once," says I; for,
to save my life, I couldn't help trying to excuse her every way I could.
"She hadn't sent no word over to him and he hadn't got no word to her
for weeks so far as I knew. It must of all come to them both just in
that one minute. It was like cap and powder--you can't help the
explosion then. I reckon maybe she's somewhere--with him."
"Yes; with him!" breaks out Old Man Wright. "It was neck against
neck--me and Wisner. I had him beat; I'd of had him on his knees. And
now he's put the greatest disgrace on us any man could of figured out,
no matter how hard he tried--his hired man has run away with my
daughter! I could of laughed at Wisner once. Can I laugh at him now?"
"That ain't the worst," says I.
"No," says he; "it ain't the worst. The worst is, she's married a
low-down cur that's been after her money all this time. All this time,
Curly--and I didn't know it. And you let him go thataway--right here;
you heard the wheels that took 'em away!"
"Yes, Colonel," says I; "that's true. Now it's a little late, but I'm
going to get on this job the best I know how from this time down. That
means I've got to go away from town for a little while, Colonel. I want
you to set here and leave this thing to me. Please don't say 'No' to
that. I may need you after a while--in case I locate them. Since the
newspapers has got fooled by this thing we pulled off this morning,
maybe the best thing I can do is to go away while things is quiet.
"Stay here, then, Colonel," says I. "Don't drink no more and no less
than you been doing. If anybody comes tell them Bonnie Bell is sick.
Wait till you hear from me."