JIMMIE HIGGINS MEETS THE OWNER
I
It was late at night when Jimmie left the Socialist local, and took
the trolley out into the country. He had to walk nearly two miles
from where he got off, and a thunder-storm had come up; he got out
and started to trudge through the darkness and the floods of rain.
Several times he slipped off the road into the ditch, and once he
fell prone, and got up and washed the mud from his eyes and nose
with the stream of fresh water pouring about his head. While he was
thus occupied he heard the sound of a horn, and saw a glare of light
rushing up. He jumped into the ditch again, and a big automobile
went by at a fast pace, spattering showers of mud all over him. He
plodded on, swearing to himself. Some of them munition-millionaires,
no doubt--tearing over the country at night honking their
horns like they owned the roads, and covering poor walking
people with their splashings!
And so on, until Jimmie came round a turn of the road and saw the
white glare of light again, this time standing still. It seemed to
be pointing up into the trees; and when he got nearer he made out
the reason--it had run off the road into the ditch, and then up the
other slope, and there rolled over on to its side.
“Hello!” said a voice, as Jimmie came slopping up.
“Hello!” he answered.
“How far is it to the nearest house?”
“Maybe half a mile.”
“Who lives there?”
“I do.”
“Have you got a horse and buggy?”
“There's one at the big house, just a piece beyond.”
“Do you suppose we could get enough men to turn this car over?”
“I dunno; there ain't many about here.”
“Damn!” muttered the man to himself. Then, after a moment, “Well,
there's no use staying here.” This to his companion, whom Jimmie
made out to be a woman. She was standing still, with the cold rain
pouring over her. The man put his arm about her, and said to Jimmie,
“Lead the way, please.” So Jimmie set out, slopping through the mud
as before.
Nothing more was said until they reached the “tenant-house” where
the Jimmies lived. But meantime the little Socialist's mind was
busy; it seemed to him that the man's voice was familiar, and he was
trying to recall where and how he had heard it before. They came to
the house, which was dark, and the couple stood on the porch while
Jimmie went in and groped for a match and lighted the single smoky
oil-lamp on which the household depended. Carrying it in his hand,
he went to the door and invited the couple in. They came; and so
Jimmie got a glimpse of the face of the man, and almost dropped the
lamp right there where he stood. It was Lacey Granitch!
II
The young lord of Leesville was too much occupied with his own
affairs to notice the look on the face of the yokel before him; or
perhaps he was so used to being recognized, and to being stared at
by yokels. He looked about the room and saw a stove. “Can you get us
a fire, so this lady can get dry?”
“Y--yes,” said Jimmie. “I--I suppose so.” But he made no move; he
stood rooted to the spot.
“Lacey,” put in the woman, “don't stop for that. Get the car
started, or get another.” And Jimmie looked at her; she was rather
small, and very beautiful--quite the most beautiful human creature
that Jimmie had ever looked at. One could see that she was
expensively dressed, even though everything she had on was soaked
with rain.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Lacey. “You can't travel till you get
dry--you'd be ill.” And he turned upon Jimmie. “Get a fire, won't
you?” he exclaimed. “A big fire. I'll make it worth while to you for
whatever you do. Only don't stand there gaping all night,” he added
impatiently.
Jimmie leaped to obey; partly because he had been in the habit of
leaping to obey all his life--but also partly because he was sorry
for the beautiful wet lady, and because, if he stood and stared any
longer, Lacey Granitch might recognize him. The moment when Jimmie
had been singled out in the herd of strikers and cursed by the young
master of the Empire Machine Shops was one of the most vivid
memories of Jimmie's rebellious life, and it did not occur to him
that the incident might not have equally impressed the other
participant.
In a few minutes the stove was hot; and urged by her escort, the
lady took off her driving-coat and hat, and hung them over a chair.
Everything underneath was wet, and the man urged her to take off her
skirt and blouse. “What does he matter?” he argued, referring to
Jimmie; but the lady would not do it. She stood by the stove,
shivering slightly, and pleading with her escort to make haste, to
find some way to get the car running again. They might be followed--
“Oh, nonsense, Helen!” cried Lacey. “You are tormenting yourself
with nightmares. Be sensible and get dry.” He piled the wood into
the stove, and ordered Jimmie to get another armful; and Jimmie
obeyed with his hands and feet--but meantime his rebellious little
brain was taking in every detail of the situation, putting this and
that together.
The talking had waked up Lizzie, so Jimmie rushed into the next room
and whispered, “Lacey Granitch is here!” If he had told her that the
Angel Gabriel was there, or Jehovah with all his thunders and his
retinue of seraphim, poor Lizzie could not have been more stunned.
Jimmie ordered her to get up, and get on her dress and shoes, and
get a cup of coffee for the lady; the dazed woman obeyed--though
she would rather have crawled under the bed than face the celestial
personages who had taken possession of her home.
III
Lacey ordered Jimmie to accompany him, to find some help to get the
car into travelling condition. They went out together, and on the
porch, before they braved the rain again, young Granitch stopped and
spoke: “See here, my man; I want you to help me get a gang together,
and I want you to keep quiet, please--say nothing about who was in
the car. If any other people come along and ask questions, keep your
mouth shut, and I'll make it worth while to you--well worth while.
Do you understand?”
Every instinct in Jimmie Higgins was ready to answer, “Yes, sir.”
That was what he had always answered to such commands--he, and his
father, and his father's fathers before him. But something else
within him resisted this instinct--the new revolutionary psychology
which he had so painfully acquired, and which made continual war
upon his old-time docilities. It seemed that this was the moment, if
ever in his life, to show the stuff he was made of. He clenched his
hands, and everything in him turned to iron. “WHO IS THAT LADY?” he
demanded.
Lacey Granitch was so taken aback that he started visibly. “What do
you mean?”
“I mean--is she your wife? Or is she some other man's wife?”
“Why you damned--” And the young lord of Leesville stopped,
speechless. Jimmie fell back a couple of steps, as a matter of
precaution, but he did not weaken in his rigid resolve.
“I know you, Mr. Granitch,” he said; “and I know what you're doing.
You might as well know you ain't foolin' nobody.”
“What the hell is it to you?” cried the other; but then he stopped
again, and Jimmie heard him breathing hard. Evidently he made an
effort to keep his self-control; when he spoke again, his voice was
quieter. “Listen, my good fellow,” he said. “You have a chance to
make a good deal of money to-night--”
“I don't want your money!” broke in Jimmie. “I wouldn't touch your
filthy money, that you get by murdering men!”
“My God!” said Lacey Granitch; and then, weakly: “What have you got
against me?”
“What have I got? I was workin' in the Empire, an' I went on strike
for my rights, an' you cursed me like I was a dog, an' you sent the
police an' had me arrested, an' they smashed Wild Bill's nose, an'
sent me up for ten days when I hadn't done nothin'--”
“Oh! So that's it, is it?”
“Yes, that's it; but I wouldn't mind that so much--if it wasn't for
them shells you're makin' to kill men over in Europe. And you
spendin' the money drinkin' champagne with chorus-girls, an' runnin'
off with other men's wives!”
“You--” and Lacey uttered a foul oath, and leaped at Jimmie; but
Jimmie had expected that, he was looking out for himself. There was
no railing to the little porch on which he stood, and he leaped off
to the ground and away. Because he knew the lay of the land, he
could run faster in the darkness than his pursuer.
He sped down the path and out into the road--and there was the
headlight of an automobile, almost upon him. The vehicle came to an
instant stop, and a startled voice cried, “Hey, there!”
“Hey, there!” answered Jimmie, and stopped in the light; for he did
not believe that his enemy would dare pursue him there.
The voice from the car spoke again. “There's an automobile off the
road a ways back here. Do you know anything about who the people are
that were driving it?”
“Sure I do!” answered Jimmie promptly.
“Where are they?”
“They're up in that house--Lacey Granitch an' a lady named Helen--”
And instantly the door of the car was flung open. A man leaped out,
and another man, and another; they kept coming--Jimmie would not
have believed that an automobile could have held so many people. Not
one of them said a word, but all started on the run for Jimmie's
house as if they were charging in a battle.
IV
Jimmie followed behind. He heard sounds of a scuffle on the lawn,
and screams from inside. At first the little farm-hand could not
make up his mind what to do, but finally he ran to the house; and
there in the front room he saw the beautiful lady, with her wet hair
streaming down her back, and the tears streaming down her face, sunk
on her knees, before the man who had hailed Jimmie from the
automobile. She had caught his coat with her two hands, and clung to
it with such desperation that when he tried to draw away he dragged
her along the floor. “Paul!” she was screaming. “What are you going
to do?”
“Be quiet! Be quiet!” commanded the man. He was young, tall and
superhumanly handsome; his face had the white light of a passionate
resolve, his lips were set like those of a man who is marching to
his death in battle. “Answer me!” cried the woman again and again;
until finally he said: “I shan't kill him; but I mean to teach him
his lesson.”
“Paul, Paul, have mercy!” sobbed the woman; she went on pleading
hysterically, in the most dreadful distress that Jimmie had ever
seen or heard. “It wasn't his fault, Paul, it was mine! I did it
all! Oh, for Christ's sake! You are driving me mad!” She moaned, she
implored, she sobbed till she choked herself; and when the man tried
to tear her hands loose she fought with him, he could not get free
of her.
“You're not going to move me, Helen,” he declared. “You might as
well get that clear.”
“But I tell you it was my fault, Paul! I ran away with him!”
“All right,” answered the man, grimly. “I'll fix him so no other
man's wife will ever run away with him.”
Her clamour continued more wildly than ever, until two other men
came into the room. “Joe,” said Paul, to one of them, “take her down
to the car and keep her there. Don't let her call for help--if
anybody comes along, keep her quiet, keep your hand tight over her
mouth.”
“Paul, you're a fiend!” shrieked the woman. “I'll kill you for
this!”
“You're welcome to,” answered the man. “I shouldn't care--but I'm
going to do this job before I die.” And he tore the woman's hands
away from him, and by his stern anger he gave the other two men the
necessary resolution. They carried her, half-fainting, out of the
room.
All this time Jimmie Higgins had been standing like one turned to
stone; and Lizzie had shrunk into a far corner of the room, all but
paralysed with terror. Now the man turned to them. “My good people,”
he said, “we want to borrow your room for a half-hour or so. We'll
pay you well for it--enough to buy the whole house if you want to.”
“W--w--what are you goin' to do?” stammered Jimmie.
“We're going to teach a little fundamental morality to a young man
whose education has been neglected,” replied the other. That somehow
did not tell Jimmie very much, but he forebore to speak again, for
never in all his life had he seen a man who conveyed to him the
impression of such resistless force as this man. He was truly a
superhuman creature, terrifying, panoplied in lightnings of wrath.
The door of the house opened again, and Lacey Granitch came in, with
a man on each side holding him by the arms and a pair of handcuffs
on his wrists. Of all the dreadful spectacles that Jimmie had seen
that dreadful night, the worst was the face of the young master of
the Empire Machine Shops. It was green--absolutely and literally
green. His knees trembled so that he seemed about to sink to the
floor, and his dark eyes were those of an animal in a trap.
There came another man behind him carrying two black cases in his
hands. He opened one, and took out some instrument with wires
attached, and hung part of it to a hook on the wall; he pressed a
switch, and a soft white radiance flooded the room. The man who was
in command, the one whom the lady had called “Paul”, now turned to
Jimmie and his wife. “You may take your lamp,” he said. “Go into the
other room and stay there till we call you, please.”
“W--w--what are you goin' to do?” Jimmie found courage to stammer
again. But the other merely bade him to go into the other room and
stay, and it would be all right, and he would be well paid for his
time and trouble. There was no use trying to interfere; no use
trying to get away, for the house would be watched.
V
Jimmie Junior had been wakened by the uproar, and was whimpering; so
Lizzie hurried to quiet him, and Jimmie set the little smoky lamp on
the dresser, and went and sat on the bed beside her, holding her
hand in his. Both their hands were shaking in a way that was
amazing.
Every sound from the other room was plainly audible. Lacey was
pleading, and “Paul” commanded him to hold his tongue. There was a
scuffle, and then terrified moans, which died away. There began to
steal into the Higgins's bedroom a most ghastly odour; they could
not imagine what it was. And then they began to hear wild clamour
from Lacey Granitch, as if he were suffering in hell. It was awful
beyond words; the perspiration came out in beads on the faces of the
listeners, and Jimmie was just about making up his mind that it was
his duty to rush in and protest, or perhaps to climb out of the
window and make an effort to steal away and summon help, when the
door opened and the man called “Paul” came in, closing the door
behind him.
“It's all right,” said he. “People always make a fuss when they're
given an anaesthetic, so don't let it frighten you.” And he stood
there waiting, rigid, grim, while the sounds went on. Finally they
died away and silence fell--a long, long silence. He opened the
door and went back into the other room, and the two Jimmies were
left holding each other's shaking hands.
Now and then they heard a man speak in a low voice, or someone move
across the room; and always that ghastly, overpowering odour kept
creeping in, making them think they would die of suffocation, and
their three babies also. The suspense and horror had become almost
unbearable--when finally they began to hear Lacey Granitch again,
moaning, sobbing--most harrowing sounds. “My God! My God!” whispered
Lizzie, “What are they doing?” And when Jimmie did not answer, she
whispered again. “We ought to stop them! We ought to get help!”
But then once more the door opened, and “Paul” came in. “It's all
right now,” he said. “He's coming out.” Neither of the Jimmies had
the least idea what “coming out” meant, but they were reassured to
know that the masterful person at least was satisfied. They waited;
they heard Lacey vomiting, as it seemed--and then they heard him
cursing, in between his feeble gasps. He called the men the same
foul name that he had called Jimmie; and that somehow made the whole
affair seem better--it brought one down to earth again!
“Paul” went out and stayed for a while, and when he came back, he
said, “We're going now; and understand, there's nothing for you to
worry about. We shall leave the patient here, and as soon as we get
to a telephone, we'll notify the hospital to send an ambulance. So
all you have to do is to wait, and keep quiet and don't worry. And
here's something for the use of your house--” The man put out his
hand with a roll of bills, which Jimmie mechanically took--“and if
anybody asks you about what happened to-night, just say you didn't
see anything and don't know anything whatever about it. I'm sorry to
have troubled you, but it couldn't be helped. And now, good night.”
And so the masterful young man went out, and they heard him and his
companions tramping down the porch-steps. They listened, until they
heard the automobile start up and disappear in the darkness. Then
from the next room they heard a moan.
Trembling with terror, Jimmie got up and stole to the door, and
opened it a tiny crack. The room was in utter darkness. “Get me some
water!” the voice of Lacey groaned; and Jimmie tiptoed back and got
the little smoky lamp, and came to the door again. He peered in, and
saw that Lacey was lying on the floor with a sheet over
him--everything but his head, which was resting on a pillow. His
face was yellow and twisted with pain. “Water! Water!” he sobbed;
and Jimmie rushed to get a glass and fill it from the pail. When he
brought it, Lacey first tried to drink, and then began to vomit;
then he lay, sobbing softly to himself. He saw Jimmie staring at
him, and his eyes filled with sudden hate and he whispered, “This is
what you got me in for, you damned little skunk!”