WHAT BERTRAM CALLS “THE LIMIT”
At half past ten o'clock on the evening following Mrs. Stetson's very
plain talk with William, the telephone bell at the Beacon Street house
rang sharply. Pete answered it.
“Well?”--Pete never said “hello.”
“Hello. Is that you, Pete?” called Billy's voice agitatedly. “Is Uncle
William there?”
“No, Miss Billy.”
“Oh dear! Well, Mr. Cyril, then?”
“He's out, too, Miss Billy. And Mr. Bertram--they're all out.”
“Yes, yes, I know HE'S out,” almost sobbed Billy. “Dear, dear, what
shall I do! Pete, you'll have to come. There isn't any other way!”
“Yes, Miss; where?” Pete's voice was dubious, but respectful.
“To the Boylston Street subway--on the Common, you know--North-bound
side. I'll wait for you--but HURRY! You see, I'm all alone here.”
“Alone! Miss Billy--in the subway at this time of night! But, Miss
Billy, you shouldn't--you can't--you mustn't--” stuttered the old man in
helpless horror.
“Yes, yes, Pete, but never mind; I am here! And I should think if 'twas
such a dreadful thing you would hurry FAST to get here, so I wouldn't be
alone,” appealed Billy.
With an inarticulate cry Pete jerked the receiver on to the hook, and
stumbled away from the telephone. Five minutes later he had left the
house and was hurrying through the Common to the Boylston Street subway
station.
Billy, a long cloak thrown over her white dress, was waiting for him.
Her white slippers tapped the platform nervously, and her hair, under
the light scarf of lace, fluffed into little broken curls as if it had
been blown by the wind.
“Miss Billy, Miss Billy, what can this mean?” gasped the man. “Where is
Mrs. Stetson?”
“At Mrs. Hartwell's--you know she is giving a reception to-night. But
come, we must hurry! I'm after Mr. Bertram.”
“After Mr. Bertram!”
“Yes, yes.”
“Alone?--like this?”
“But I'm not alone now; I have you. Don't you see?”
At the blank stupefaction in the man's face, the girl sighed
impatiently.
“Dear me! I suppose I'll have to explain; but we're losing time--and we
mustn't--we mustn't!” she cried feverishly. “Listen then, quick. It was
at Mrs. Hartwell's tonight. I'd been watching Mr. Bertram. He was
with that horrid Mr. Seaver, and I never liked him, never! I overheard
something they said, about some place they were going to, and I didn't
like what Mr. Seaver said. I tried to speak to Mr. Bertram, but I didn't
get a chance; and the next thing I knew he'd gone with that Seaver man!
I saw them just in time to snatch my cloak and follow them.”
“FOLLOW them! MISS BILLY!”
“I had to, Pete; don't you see? There was no one else. Mr. Cyril and
Uncle William had gone--home, I supposed. I sent back word by the maid
to Aunt Hannah that I'd gone ahead; you know the carriage was ordered
for eleven; but I'm afraid she won't have sense to tell Aunt Hannah, she
looked so dazed and frightened when I told her. But I COULDN'T wait to
say more. Well, I hurried out and caught up with Mr. Bertram just as
they were crossing Arlington Street to the Garden. I'd heard them say
they were going to walk, so I knew I could do it. But, Pete, after I got
there, I didn't dare to speak--I didn't DARE to! So I just--followed.
They went straight through the Garden and across the Common to Tremont
Street, and on and on until they stopped and went down some stairs, all
marble and lights and mirrors. 'Twas a restaurant, I think. I saw just
where it was, then I flew back here to telephone for Uncle William. I
knew HE could do something. But--well, you know the rest. I had to take
you. Now come, quick; I'll show you.”
“But, Miss Billy, I can't! You mustn't; it's impossible,” chattered old
Pete. “Come, let me take ye home, Miss Billy, do!”
“Home--and leave Mr. Bertram with that Seaver man? No, no!”
“What CAN ye do?”
“Do? I can get him to come home with me, of course.”
The old man made a despairing gesture and looked about him as if for
help. He saw then the curious, questioning eyes on all sides; and with a
quick change of manner, he touched Miss Billy's arm.
“Yes; we'll go. Come,” he apparently agreed. But once outside on the
broad expanse before the Subway entrance he stopped again. “Miss Billy,
please come home,” he implored. “Ye don't know--ye can't know what yer
a-doin'!”
The girl tossed her head. She was angry now.
“Pete, if you will not go with me I shall go alone. I am not afraid.”
“But the hour--the place--you, a young girl! Miss Billy!” remonstrated
the old man agitatedly.
“It isn't so very late. I've been out lots of times later than this
at home. And as for the place, it's all light and bright, and lots of
people were going in--ladies and gentlemen. Nothing could hurt me, Pete,
and I shall go; but I'd rather you were with me. Why, Pete, we mustn't
leave him. He isn't--he isn't HIMSELF, Pete. He--he's been DRINKING!”
Billy's voice broke, and her face flushed scarlet. She was almost
crying. “Come, you won't refuse now!” she finished, resolutely turning
toward the street.
And because old Pete could not pick her up bodily and carry her home,
he followed close at her heels. At the head of the marble stairs “all
lights and mirrors,” however, he made one last plea.
“Miss Billy, once more I beg of ye, won't ye come home? Ye don't know
what yer a-doin', Miss Billy, ye don't--ye don't!”
“I can't go home,” persisted Billy. “I must get Mr. Bertram away from
that man. Now come; we'll just stand at the door and look in until we
see him. Then I'll go straight to him and speak to him.” And with that
she turned and ran down the steps.
Billy blinked a little at the lights which, reflected in the great
plate-glass mirrors, were a million dazzling points that found
themselves again repeated in the sparkling crystal and glittering silver
on the flower-decked tables. All about her Billy saw flushed-faced men,
and bright-eyed women, laughing, chatting, and clinking together their
slender-stemmed wine glasses. But nowhere, as she looked about her,
could Billy descry the man she sought.
The head waiter came forward with uplifted hand, but Billy did not see
him. A girl at her left laughed disagreeably, and several men stared
with boldly admiring eyes; but to them, too, Billy paid no heed. Then,
halfway across the room she spied Bertram and Seaver sitting together at
a small table alone.
Simultaneously her own and Bertram's eyes met.
With a sharp word under his breath Bertram sprang to his feet. His
befogged brain had cleared suddenly under the shock of Billy's presence.
“Billy, for Heaven's sake what are you doing here?” he demanded in a low
voice, as he reached her side.
“I came for you. I want you to go home with me, please, Mr. Bertram,”
whispered Billy, pleadingly.
The man had not waited for an answer to his question. With a deft
touch he had turned Billy toward the door; and even as she finished
her sentence she found herself in the marble hallway confronting Pete,
pallid-faced, and shaking.
“And you, too, Pete! Great Scott! what does this mean?” he exploded
angrily.
Pete could only shake his head and glance imploringly at Billy. His dry
lips and tongue refused to articulate even one word.
“We came--for--you,” choked Billy. “You see, I don't like that Seaver
man.”
“Well, by Jove! this is the limit!” breathed Bertram.