Bristow and the Professor had been waiting at the stage door for only
a few minutes when men and women, singly or in twos or threes, began
to dribble through the gates and lose themselves in the homeward-bound
crowds.
“Miss Lee will be out here in a minute now, Professor,” observed the
reporter. “See if you can pick her out. If you can, it will be a sort
of a test as to her resemblance to Olga. If you can’t, I’ll show you.”
The Professor nodded. Years seemed to have fallen from his shoulders.
“Very well,” he agreed cheerfully.
No misgivings as to the girl’s acceptance of his offer troubled him.
His idea was to offer her a trip to Europe, abundant fine clothes,
reasonable money, and the chance to play lady for a few months among
cultured people, and to ask in return only that she should pass as his
daughter. Concerning the risks of the trip, he intended to say nothing,
feeling confident that there would be no risk for her. Even if the
worst came to the worst and he himself went to a Russian prison--which
seemed unlikely--he could not conceive how she could come to harm, his
desire to leave Olga behind being based on very different reasons.
Offering everything, and asking only a service that was in itself a
pleasure, Professor Shishkin could not see how any girl could hesitate.
All of which shows that he was not familiar with certain temptations
which every handsome working girl and especially every actress in the
great city had long been schooled to resist.
At last she came, and he picked her out instantly. The likeness to Olga
was striking, though the differences were so great that no one who
really knew either girl would be at all likely to mistake her for the
other. With Bristow at his side, he started forward.
Miss Lee might fairly be called a type. From her high-ratted pompadour,
past her exaggerated straight-front, to the flare at the bottom of her
cheap skirt, she was dressed in the style. Neat as a cherry blossom,
she carried herself with a dash that the Professor found himself
mentally approving. A spot of red burned in either cheek, and her eyes
snapped as she stepped upon the street. A student of the sex would have
declared that she was in a royal rage.
The Professor was not a connoisseur in women, however, and he did not
suspect that Miss Lee had just been “called down” by the stage manager
for being late in answering her call, and had been told in no uncertain
terms that if she was late again she could stay away for good. Miss Lee
had glared at the stage manager, but had not answered back. Twelve
dollars a week may not be much to some people, but when it is one’s
sole support, one is likely to think twice before casting it away.
Having held her tongue, Miss Lee was in the condition of an engine on
which the safety valve is tied down. She trembled on the verge of an
explosion.
Ignorant of this, the Professor and Bristow stepped in the girl’s way
and raised their hats.
“How do you do, Miss Lee?” remarked the latter. “I want to introduce to
you my friend, Professor Shishkin. He wants to talk to you on a very
important subject.”
If the girl was startled, she did not show it. “Gee!” she exclaimed,
with pretended lightness, glancing at the Professor’s venerable aspect.
“What’s broke loose? Has me long lost uncle cashed in and left his
money to his darling brother’s offspring?”
The Professor did not quite follow. “No-o,” he quavered slowly. “I
wanted to see you on a personal matter. I have been studying your
appearance, and I----”
“Oh! Ain’t you ashamed? And you so old, too! Fade away!”
“My dear young lady!” The Professor did not understand what the girl
meant, but he gathered that she was reproving him. “My dear young lady!
It is because I am so old that I venture to address you. As I say,
I have been studying your appearance, and I want to talk with you
quietly. If you will go with me to----”
Miss Lee flushed. “Ain’t you the frisky grandpop!” she demanded
scornfully. “Back to the bald-headed row for yours. You mashers make me
tired. Gee! I’ll have to take to eating onions to keep you off. I take
it right hard that you should let me in for this, Mr. Bristow. You know
I ain’t that sort.”
Bristow had been listening in secret amusement, but at the girl’s
protest he started forward. “It’s all right, Miss Lee!” he said. “The
Professor really wants to talk to you on business. He is to be my
father-in-law, and I wouldn’t think of encouraging him in any capers.
He’s no masher.”
“Masher!” At last the Professor understood. “Good heavens!” he
exclaimed. “Do you take me for one of those vapid fools that exhibit
themselves on the street corners? I should have thought my white hair
would have shielded me from such an imputation. After all, however,
it may be natural enough. I suppose I began wrong. But I am not that
kind. Without denying your evident attractions, young lady, I assure
you that I have sought you for a very different reason. This is
strictly business. I can’t talk here. Perhaps”--an idea struck the
Professor--“perhaps you will do me the honor of dining with me at some
place near here--any place you like to name!”
For some moments the girl stared at him shrewdly. After all,
perhaps---- “I guess I made a mistake,” she said at last, slowly. “It’s
hard to guess sometimes. I’ll take dinner with you and hear what you’ve
got to say. But you take my tip and don’t try any funny business, or
I’ll call a cop. See?”
The Professor nodded.
“All right, then,” declared the girl. “There’s a spaghetti emporium
right back of here on Sixth Avenue. We’ll go there.”
A few moments later the trio were sitting in a huge plate-glass
restaurant, and Miss Lee, at the Professor’s request, was ordering a
somewhat elaborate dinner. Then, while she awaited its coming, she
leaned forward across the table. “Well!” she began, ignoring Bristow,
who plainly desired to remain in the background. “Well, now’s the time
to spring the story of your life in thirteen chapters and tell what led
up to this thrilling moment--unless you’d rather wait till after the
tooth-picks. You ain’t going to spring an Arabian Nights fable on me,
are you?”
“Perhaps I may.”
“Really! Well, all right. I’m willing. Go ahead.”
The waiter brought the soup, and the girl began to eat with elaborate
interest. The Professor noted that her table manners were good and
would arouse no suspicion. Her slangy way of speaking gave him some
misgivings, but he put them aside.
“My name,” he began, “is Shishkin.”
“What!” The girl laid down her spoon and regarded him severely. “Well,
you’re original, any way,” she laughed. “Sure it ain’t Jones?”
“No--Shishkin. I am a Russian, but I have been living in this country
for twenty years. Will you tell me something about yourself?”
“Cert. Florence Lee. Twenty years old. From Missouri. Been working in
New York three years. Live in Brooklyn. Anything else? Want to see my
vaccination certificate?”
“No, what you have said is sufficient for the present. I only wanted
something to go on. I am a scientist. My work is chiefly in connection
with the ocean. I am about to start for Europe on what will undoubtedly
be my last trip. Ordinarily, my daughter would go with me, but she
desires to get married. I must have some one in her place.”
Miss Lee paused in the act of raising an olive to her lips. “I ain’t a
trained nurse,” she objected tentatively.
“I don’t want a trained nurse,” returned the Professor, with a show
of spirit. “I have sought you out because you look very much like my
daughter. What I want you to do is to take her place and her name; to
pretend to be she; and to go to Europe with me. We may be gone six
months. You shall have everything my daughter would have had and be
treated exactly as she would be treated. Will you go?”
But Miss Lee was past speech. With mouth agape, she stared at the
old man. Anything can happen in New York, but this went beyond her
experience.
“Well, if that ain’t the limit!” she murmured, at last. “Say, when did
you come out of Bellevue?”
“Bellevue?”
“The psychopathic ward. Gee! it must be a lovely world you live
in--till the pipe goes out.”
Dimly the Professor understood that he was being mocked. “I am not
jesting, young lady,” he explained, with dignity. “I may add that when
the trip is over I will bring you back to New York and give you a
thousand dollars.”
The girl’s eyes burned into his. “I am not for sale,” she answered
briefly. “Don’t think it, grandpop. There are plenty that are. Go after
them.”
“No one will do so well as you. Didn’t I explain? I am compelled to
seem to take my daughter with me on this trip. I don’t want to take
her, and she does not want to go. Yet she must go unless I can find
some one to pass for her. You look like her. When you dress as she
does, you will look very much like her. That is why I have come to you
first. With a few days’ training, you will find it easy to pass for
Olga, my daughter. No one who is going on this trip has ever met her.
And it won’t be unpleasant. You will be treated with all honor and
consideration. Will you come?”
“Come!” Miss Lee had gone back to her dinner and was discussing it with
much gusto. “Look here, grandpop! Do you mean to tell me that all this
is on the level?”
“Certainly.” The Professor did not speak slang, but he understood it to
some extent.
Florence stared at him once more. She did not believe that he was
speaking the truth, or, rather--for she had been trained in a hard
school--she did not believe that he was speaking the whole truth. She
felt sure that there was something behind--as, indeed, there was.
Still, she was tempted. A yacht, a trip to Europe, a masquerade, and
a thousand dollars! It all sounded very fascinating to a girl who
realized that she might be thrown out of work at any moment, with only
a week’s salary between her and starvation. Of course it might be a
trap. Florence was handsome, and she knew it; and she had heard of
traps for handsome girls. This might be one, but if so, it was very
elaborately baited. Besides, she felt supreme confidence in her ability
to defend herself if need be. Still, she hesitated.
“How’m I to know?” she questioned. “The men are always springing
something new, and a girl’s got to be mighty careful. I ain’t for sale;
anyhow, I ain’t on the bargain table; before I go off I’ve got to be
sure that the man’s on the level and can do more than make a noise like
a tin bank. If you ain’t stringing me--if you ain’t escaped from the
crazy house--prove it. It oughtn’t to be hard.”
Professor Shishkin considered. “My friend and future son-in-law, Mr.
Bristow, will endorse everything I say,” he declared. “Further, I
should be glad to have you talk with my daughter, whose place you will
take. Do you know East Orange?”
“New Jersey? Sure!”
“Very well. Come down there early to-morrow. Ask any one to show
you where Professor Shishkin lives. You’ll find a pretty, vine-clad
cottage. Nothing at all to make you afraid. Come in and you’ll
find Olga and me waiting for you. I think we can make you believe.
Only”--the Professor’s voice grew serious--“only please wear a veil,
and don’t tell any one what I have told you. I’d much rather you would
refuse outright than have you talk. I want you to pass as my daughter.
The moment the truth gets out, you cease to be of use to me, and I get
into grave danger. So you must be secret. Now, on that understanding,
will you come?”
Miss Lee reached her hand across the table. “I’ll come,” she promised.
“I’ll see the thing through. If it ain’t straight, you’re the
biggest---- Well, never mind, I’ll see it through.”