PLAYING A PART
Dorothy ran to the door and caught hold of the knob. “Who’s there?” she
cried.
“It’s I—Martin Lawson, Janet. May I come in?”
“Oh, please, Mr. Lawson, not right now.” There was a soft tone of
pleading in her voice. “You see, I’ve been lying down and I’m not quite
dressed.”
“But I thought I heard you speaking.”
“You did.” The real Janet, shivering by the window, caught her breath
and heard Dorothy’s tone sharpen slightly. “To myself. Being cooped up
like this for hours on end, I’m glad to hear the sound of my own voice.
I often read aloud. But I’ll be ready shortly, if you want me.”
“All right, then. I’ll be back in five minutes. Your father is here and
he wants to say goodbye.”
The key turned in the lock and with her ear close to the panel Dorothy
was sure she could hear the faint tread of footsteps retreating down the
hall. With her heart pumping sixty to the second, she dashed back to
Janet and carefully raised the window.
“Heavens! that was a narrow squeak—” her cousin whispered shakily.
“What nerve you’ve got! I nearly fainted—”
“Never mind,” Dorothy whispered back, “you’ve got to get out of
here—and right now!”
“Oh, but I can’t, Dorothy. I’m afraid!”
Dorothy gave the signal rope two savage pulls. Almost immediately the
cable began to tighten. “Close your eyes and hang on with both hands,”
she ordered.
“But Dorothy—I’ll scream—I’m going to—I know it!”
“No, you won’t!” Quickly Dorothy clasped the frightened girl’s fingers
around the taut cable. A dive into the pocket of Janet’s coat brought
forth her own handkerchief which she hurriedly crumpled into a ball and
thrust into her cousin’s mouth. The seat, with Janet in it, was rising
slowly. She caught the paralyzed girl below the knees, steadied her as
the crane drew its burden clear of the sill and pushed her carefully
into the outer darkness. When Janet’s feet were on a level with the
upper sash, she pulled down the window and shade and switched on the
light again.
“Skies above!” Her breath came in short gasps and she leaned against the
end of the bed to steady herself. “Talk about your thrills! That was
worse than my first solo hop, by a long shot.” She ran her fingers
through her short hair. “Let’s see—what next? Oh, yes—I was supposed
to be lying down.”
She caught up a book from the table and tossed it open onto the bed.
Then she lay down, rumpled the coverlet, made sure that the pillow
showed the impression of her head, and sprang up again. An adventurous
past had taught her the need of being thorough.
She went to the window and raising it, looked out and upward. Neither
Janet nor the crane were in sight. Thankful that her cousin was safe at
last, she pulled down the sash.
Two or three minutes later, when the door was unlocked, the two men who
entered surprised her in the business of packing the contents of the top
bureau drawer into Janet’s wardrobe trunk.
And now came as pretty a piece of acting as has ever been seen upon the
stage; acting that Dorothy’s audience of two must not realize was
acting, and furthermore, one of these men was the father of the girl she
impersonated. Why hadn’t she remembered to ask Janet what she called
that mysterious father of hers? Father, Papa, Dad, Daddy—which should
she use? A mistake now would be fatal. Even her uncle must not become
aware of her real identity. There was no time for hesitating. He was
speaking now.
“Janet, my dear—” he began.
Dorothy ran to her uncle and throwing her arms about his neck, buried
her head on his shoulder. “How could you leave me like this?” she
wailed. “Why do you let these people keep me locked in my room? And now
they are going to take me away!” Her voice grew louder, almost
hysterical. She sobbed pathetically and clutched him a little tighter.
“My dear child—you mustn’t cry this way—you really mustn’t!” Mr.
Jordan patted her back in the silly way men do when they want to be
comforting. “Mr. Lawson and his wife will look after you in the country,
while your Daddy is away.”
She released the embarrassed man, and pulling a handkerchief from his
breast pocket, dabbed her eyes with the cambric until she felt certain
they looked bloodshot enough to pass inspection. “But I don’t _want_ to
go, Daddy. Please don’t let them take me,” she begged, her voice
trembling as though she was using all her will power to gain self
control. “If you can’t take me with you, why can’t I go back to school?”
“But that’s impossible, Janet. You are going to be Mrs. Lawson’s
secretary. Don’t be foolish. All arrangements have been made.”
“Well, I’m eighteen,” said Dorothy with a show of temper. “My mother was
a year younger than that when she ran away and married you. I am no
longer a child. I don’t like being packed off like—like a bag of
potatoes.”
“Are there any other reasons why you don’t want to come to Ridgefield
with me?” Mr. Lawson spoke for the first time. His words fairly dripped
with suspicion.
“Yes, there are.” Dorothy turned on him angrily. “Daddy goes off on a
trip, and for reasons which appear to be a secret, you keep me locked in
my room for more than a week, Mr. Lawson. And you seem to wonder why I
resent it.”
“But you have been ill, my dear Janet.”
“If I’m so ill, why has no doctor been to see me?” Her voice was full of
scorn.
“I have been keeping you under observation myself.”
“Quite possibly. I’ve been allowed to see nobody except that maid who
acts as if she were deaf and dumb. If you are trying to tell me that I’m
mentally deranged, I won’t stand for it! The mere fact that you now
propose that I act as your wife’s secretary proves that you consider me
capable. What right have you to keep me a prisoner in my own home? Who
are you, Mr. Martin Lawson, to take upon yourself the regulating of my
life?” Dorothy burst into angry tears.
“But my _dear_ child—” protested Mr. Jordan. “I’ve never seen you
behave like this—”
“No! And up to now,” she stormed, her eyes flashing, “you’ve never given
me cause. In the first place I’m no longer a child—you forget that—and
then—what kind of a life did you give me as a child? You are my father
and you say that you love me, but can you expect deep affection from a
daughter whom you ship to boarding school at five? You wouldn’t even let
me visit friends during the holidays. For years at a time you never took
the trouble to come and see me. How can you expect love and obedience
after years of neglect?” She drew a sobbing breath, then went on: “For a
while we traveled—you were nice to me—I enjoyed it. We settled down
here. I forgave what you’d done to my childhood. I tried to make this
flat a home for you, even though I was kept like a cloistered nun and
you allowed me no friends. But this is going too far.”
“And what, may I ask, are you going to do about it?” inquired Lawson
with a disagreeable smile.
“What can a defenseless girl without friends do to stop two big bullies?
I shall go with you, Mr. Lawson, because I can’t help myself. But don’t
expect me to like being used as a slave, even though I may be of some
comfort to that long-suffering wife of yours. Oh, that makes you angry,
does it? Well, let me tell you, that you are not half as angry as I am.
You can practice your strong-arm methods on defenseless women and get
away with it—some day you’ll try it on a man—and by the time he gets
through thrashing you there won’t be enough left for the boneyard.” She
flashed a smile of contempt on the furious man, and turned to Mr. Jordan
who was speaking again.
“What has come over you, Janet?” he was saying. “I’ve never heard you
speak so rudely to anyone before. You’ve always been such a quiet little
mouse—”
“And you’ve taken advantage of it,” she interrupted. “What you forget is
that even a mouse will turn and fight when it’s cornered. If you really
loved me—if you had a spark of manhood in your selfish body, you’d
thrash this man to within an inch of his life and throw him into the
street. Get out of here—both of you!” she cried hysterically. “And
please—no more silly arguments—I don’t want to be forced to say before
outsiders what a contemptible person my father is proving himself to
be.”
This last tirade seemed to stun Mr. Jordan. From the almost agonized
expression on his face, she saw that at last conscience was at work. The
man was utterly miserable. He could not hide it.
“Will you—will you be ready to leave in half an hour, Janet?” His voice
was a mere whisper and shook with suppressed feeling.
“Yes, I’ll be ready. Go now, please—both of you!” She turned her back
on them and walking over to the window, she threw up the shade and the
sash. As she stood there staring into the night, she heard them leave
the room.
This time the door shut without being locked. Dorothy streaked across
the floor and pressed her ear to the keyhole. Just outside the men were
talking.
“You’re a fool, Lawson, if you still think that Janet wasn’t asleep
during the meeting,” she heard her uncle say. “Tonight proves it. And
let me tell you this. From now on, my business and my home shall be kept
separate and distinct. Never again will I allow myself to be placed in a
position to be dressed down by my own daughter. There was no comeback
either. Every word she said was gospel truth. It’s a terrible thing when
a daughter makes her father realize what a low, cowardly creature he is
at heart. Well, how about it? Aren’t you now convinced of her
innocence?”
“I am.” Lawson clipped off the words, and as he went on speaking, there
was insolence as well as a hint of nervousness in his tone. “But when it
comes to giving me a thrashing, Number 5—well, I shouldn’t try it if I
were you—not if you value your—er—health!”
“Stop talking like a fool!” retorted Janet’s father. “Is the girl to be
sent to Ridgefield or not?”
“Now you’re talking rot, yourself,” snapped Lawson. “You know quite as
well as I do that Laura won’t take our word for it. She told me this
morning that any clever woman or girl for that matter, could twist a man
around her finger without half trying. Laura wants to study your
daughter herself—and that’s all there is to it.”
“I hope Mrs. Lawson has a pleasant time of it.” Mr. Jordan said
sarcastically. “But I’m afraid my hope will not be granted.”
“Laura,” answered that lady’s husband, “can be rather disagreeable
herself when she’s roused. Let us hope for Janet’s sake, that she
doesn’t try her tantrums on my wife. By the way, what are you doing
now?”
“Getting away just as fast as I can, thank you. No more scenes for me,
tonight. I wouldn’t meet Janet on her way out of here for a million
dollars!”
They moved further along the hall and Dorothy went slowly back to the
window. Across the narrow court, two flights up, the shaded windows of
Howard Bright’s flat shone a dull golden yellow in the black wall. For
several minutes she stood watching the windows, her thoughts upon what
she had done and what she had just heard.
Suddenly, shadows appeared on one of the yellow rectangles. The shade
was raised and framed in the window were Janet and Howard. Just behind
them stood a stranger who wore the round, conventional collar of a
clergyman. The young couple were smiling happily. Both waved, and Janet
held up her left hand.
Dorothy knew the significance of that gesture, and threw them a kiss.
Then she saw the shade roll down, and she turned away.
“And so they were married and lived happily ever after.” She sighed.
“Uncle Sanborn kept his promise, like the fine old sport he is.”
She stuffed the last of Janet’s belongings into the trunk, slammed it
shut and locked it.
“Now for the dirty work—and Laura Lawson.” She smiled grimly and went
to the closet for Janet’s hat and coat.