I was on my way back to Jim's after having gone home to change my
clothes. Jim had asked me to stay with him that evening and, to tell
the truth, I was glad to do it, partly because of the threat Woods had
made and partly because of the way Helen looked at Jim when she passed
us in the hall on the way to her bedroom. Being a lawyer, I have
naturally made a pretty close study of character, and if I ever saw
vindictiveness on the face of any human, it was on Helen's at that
moment.
I said nothing about the affair to mother while I was home, for she has
been very frail ever since my father's death and I thought there was no
use in needlessly upsetting her. There would be plenty of time to
discuss the matter after Helen left Jim.
Again and again I recalled the struggle of the afternoon and again and
again, Helen's face, distorted with anger, reappeared. Finally I
decided to drive the car over to Mary Pendleton's and ask her to come
spend the night with Helen. In her overwrought, hysterical condition,
Helen was capable of doing almost anything.
Mary has been like a second sister to me. She really cares nothing for
me, except in a sisterly way, but we have been together, so much so and
so long that Eastbrook gossips have given up speculating whether we are
engaged. I'd marry her in a minute, or even less, if she would have
me, but Mary insists on treating me like a kid; calls my crude attempts
at love-making "silly tosh and flub-dub," which makes the going rather
difficult. She was bridesmaid to Helen and is the one person, besides
myself, who can influence her in the least, so I felt that her presence
would add ballast to our wildly tossing domestic craft. Needless to
say, my own lack of self-control during the afternoon had been as
unexpected as it was disappointing, but when it comes to anything that
concerns Jim, I'm not responsible.
I rang the bell and Mary, herself, came to the door, looking radiant as
usual.
"Hello, Buppkins!" She greeted me with that detestable nick-name she
has used since I wore rompers. "Aren't you trying for a record or
something? This is twice you've called on me this month."
"Mary, I'm in trouble."
"Is the poor 'ittle boy in trouble and come to Auntie Mary to tell her
all about it?" she sing-songed, making a little moue, as though she was
talking to her pet cat.
"Cut it, Mary!" I said. "I'm really in trouble."
"What is it, Bupps?"
"Helen ran off with Frank Woods to-day."
"Heavens, Bupps!"--she was serious enough now.--"Where did they go?"
"They went, but they came back. Helen's home with Jim. They tried to
force him to give Helen a divorce. There was an awful fight and Woods
swore that he would kill Jim unless he let Helen go. But put on your
hat and coat and get your things. Helen needs you with her. I'll tell
you the rest on the way over."
"I'll be with you in a second," she called, running up-stairs.
When Mary was snuggled down beside me in the car--and she does snuggle
the best of any girl I ever knew--I told her everything, not forgetting
the part where I wrenched the gun away from Woods.
"Goodness, Bupps! I bet you were scared," she commented, her eyes
twinkling.
"Frankly, I didn't know what I was doing, or I would never have had the
nerve," I laughed. "But, lord! I feel sorry for Jim."
Mary's face clouded over.
"So do I, Bupps, but any one could have seen it coming. Jim was too
good to her. As much as I like Helen, I will say that the only kind of
husband she deserves is a brute who would beat her. That's the only
kind she can love. I was with her the night before her wedding, and
she confessed then that if Jim were only cruel or indifferent to her,
just once, she thought she could love him to death. The only reason
Helen cares for you and me, was because we never paid any particular
attention to her when she acted up and pouted. That is why she is mad
about Frank Woods. When he came to Eastbrook, he treated her as though
she didn't exist."
"And if Jim were cruel to her now, do you think she would go back to
him?" I asked.
Mary shook her head. "No, it's different now. If Jim were cruel to
her, she would probably hate him all the more for it."
"Proving the incomprehensibility of woman," I jeered.
"Proving the flumdability of flapdoodle," Mary responded. "If you men
only put one little thought into giving a woman what she wants, instead
of giving her what you think she ought to want; if you kept as
up-to-date in your love-making as you do in your law practise, women
wouldn't be the incomprehensible riddle you always make them out to be."
"Well, why don't you tell us what you want?" I asked.
"Silly! That would spoil it all, don't you see? Besides we aren't
sure just what we want ourselves."
My spirits, which had risen considerably during our conversation,
dropped with a slump when Jim's big house loomed up ahead. Already,
something of the unhappiness within seemed to have added a more somber
touch to the outside. Have you noticed how you can tell from the face
of a house what kind of life the inhabitants lead? Happiness or
misery, health or sickness, riches or poverty all show as though the
walls were saturated from the admixture of life within.
I sent Mary up-stairs to see Helen, while I went into the drawing-room
in search of Jim, but there was no one there except Wicks, the butler,
who was lighting a fire, for, though it was only the last of September,
the nights were chilly. I snatched up the evening paper to see if by
any chance a hint of the scandal had crept into print. I felt sure
that, as matters stood, they would not dare to put in anything
definite, but _The Sun_ has a nasty way of writing all around a
scandal, so that, while the persons involved are readily recognized,
they are quite helpless as far as redress is concerned.
I noticed that Wicks had taken an infernally long time to start the
fire. Although it was burning merrily, he still puttered about,
brushing up the chips and rearranging the blower and tongs. When Wicks
hangs about he usually has a question on his mind that he wants
answered, and he takes that means of letting you know it. I decided
not to notice him but to force him to come out in the open and ask, for
once, a straightforward question. From the fire, he moved to the table
and straightened the magazines and books, glancing now and then in my
direction, trying to catch my eye, but I buried myself more deeply than
ever in the paper. When he finally stepped back of my chair, human
nature could stand his puttering no longer, so I laid down _The Sun_,
and turned to him.
"Well, Wicks, what do you want?" I snapped.
Wicks looked at me with the expression of a small boy caught
sticky-handed in the jam-closet.
"Nothing, sir!--that is--er--nothing." He turned and started from the
room.
"Come here, Wicks!" I called. "I know when you hang around a room
unnecessarily, as you have been doing for the last ten minutes, that
you have something on your mind. Now, out with it."
"I was merely going to arsk, sir, hif I 'ad better begin lookin' arfter
another place, sir?"
That was an extraordinary question. Wicks had been with the Feldersons
ever since they were married.
"What put that idea into your head, Wicks?"
He was far more confused than I had ever seen him.
"Meanin' no disrespect, sir, and I don't mean to be hinquisitive about
what doesn't concern me, but I couldn't 'elp 'earin' a bit of what took
place this arfternoon, sir."
Good lord! I'd forgotten there might have been other witnesses to the
scene of the afternoon besides myself.
"Do the other servants know about this, Wicks?"
"Hi think they do, sir, seein' as 'ow Mrs. Felderson 'as been actin'
and talkin' so queer."
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
Wicks struggled for composure. The subject was evidently most
distasteful to his conservative and conventional British nature.
"Hit was Annie, Mrs. Felderson's maid, sir, that hupset the servants.
W'en she came down from hup-stairs, she said as 'ow Mrs. Felderson was
a ragin' and a rampagin' around 'er room, sayin' that if Mr. Felderson
didn't give 'er a divorce, she would do violence to 'im, sir."
"Did Annie hear her say that?" I questioned.
"She says so, sir."
The whole thing was so monstrous that I gasped. For this awful
dime-novel muck to be tumbled into the middle of my family was too
sickening. My sister, running away from her husband with another man
and now threatening, in the hearing of the servants, to kill him,
unless he gave her a divorce, disgusted me with its cheap vulgarity. I
hid, as best I could, the tempest that was brewing inside me.
"Wicks, Mrs. Felderson is not well. Tell the servants that she is
greatly depressed over an accident that happened to a friend. At the
present time, she is so upset over that, she really doesn't know what
she is saying. Quiet them in some way, Wicks! And tell Annie to stay
with Mrs. Felderson!"
"Very good, sir." He started to leave.
"And, Wicks--"
"Yes, sir."
"There is no need of your looking for another place."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!"
Wicks departed and I was left to my gloomy thoughts. Helen must be
brought to her senses. Mary and I must work, either to bring her back
to Jim, or, if that prove hopeless, to see that the divorce was hurried
as much as possible. The very thought of having Mary along with me,
with her inexhaustible fund of God-given humor and common sense, gave
me a vast amount of comfort and confidence.
At this point, Jim came in. He had had a bath and a shave and had put
on a dinner-coat, looking a lot more fit to grapple with his troubles
than he had the last time I had seen him. Only in his eyes did he show
the shock he'd received that day.
"Communing with yourself in the dark, Bupps?"--his voice was natural
and easy.
"Yes," I sighed, "I've been trying to see a way out of this mess."
Jim lit a cigarette and threw himself into a chair. For a few moments
he puffed in silence, taking deep inhalations and blowing the smoke
against the lighted tip, so that it showed all the rugged, strength of
his superb head.
"What would you say, Bupps, if I told you everything would come out all
right?"
"And Helen stay with you?" I asked incredulously.
"And Helen stay with me," he repeated calmly.
"Of her own free will?"
"Of her own free will," he answered.
"I should say that the events of the day had addled your brain and that
you are a damned inconsiderate brother-in-law to try to make a fool of
me."
"I mean it, Bupps," he said quietly.
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"That everything will come out all right," he smiled.
"But how, man?" His complacency almost drove me wild.
"Bupps, have you noticed how much money Woods has been spending around
here--his extravagant way of living? Where do you think that money
comes from?"
"His contracts with the French Government," I replied.
"But I happen to know he didn't land those contracts. That's the
reason he beat it so suddenly when we got into the war." He tossed his
cigarette into the fire.
"His salary from the French, then. They must have paid him some kind
of salary."
"Have you never heard what ridiculously small salaries the French
Government pays its officers?"
It was true that Woods could never have lived as he did on ten times
the salary of a French captain.
"His own private fortune then," I suggested.
"Ah! There's the point! If he has a private fortune, then my whole
case falls to pieces. That's what I've got to find out. Woods has
been playing for a big stake, and I think he has been playing with
other people's money. Did you notice how he flushed this afternoon
when I suggested looking into his private affairs? It was the veriest
accident--I was stalling for time--but when I saw him color up I knew
I'd touched a sore spot. No, Bupps, I don't think Woods has a private
fortune."
"But even if you show him up as worthless, will Helen come back to you,
Jim?"
The color came to his face and he laughed with a queer twist to his
mouth.
"Am I as horrible as all that, Bupps?"
His words brought a lump to my throat. I went over to him and almost
hugged him.
"Jim, you're such a peach--dammit all--"