A SUNDAY'S MIXED AFFAIRS
Of course, in company with the rest of my fellow-men, I had always tied
the sheet in a sailing-boat; but in so little and crank a concern as a
canoe, and with these charging squalls, I was not prepared to find
myself follow the same principle; and it inspired me with some
contemptuous views of our regard for life. It is certainly easier to
smoke with the sheet fastened; but I had never before weighed a
comfortable pipe of tobacco against an obvious risk, and gravely
elected for the comfortable pipe.--_R. L. S., An Inland Voyage_.
The faithful Ijima opened the door of Glenarm House, and after I had
swallowed the supper he always had ready for me when I kept late hours,
I established myself in comfort on the terrace and studied the affairs
of the house of Holbrook until the robins rang up the dawn. On their
hint I went to bed and slept until Ijima came in at ten o'clock with my
coffee. An old hymn chimed by the chapel bells reminded me that it was
Sunday. Services were held during the summer, so the house servants
informed me, for the benefit of the cottagers at Port Annandale; and
walking to our pier I soon saw a flotilla of launches and canoes
steering for St. Agatha's. I entered the school grounds by the Glenarm
gate and watched several smart traps approach by the lake road,
depositing other devout folk at the chapel.
The sight of bright parasols and modish gowns, the semi-urban Sunday
that had fallen in this quiet corner of the world, as though out of the
bright blue above, made all the more unreal my experiences of the
night. And just then the door of the main hall of St. Agatha's opened,
and forth came Miss Pat, Helen Holbrook and Sister Margaret and walked,
toward the chapel.
It was Helen who greeted me first.
"Aunt Pat can't withstand the temptations of a day like this. We're
chagrined to think we never knew this part of the world before!"
"I'm sure there is no danger," said Miss Pat, smiling at her own
timidity as she gave me her hand. I thought that she wished to speak
to me alone, but Helen lingered at her side, and it was she who asked
the question that was on her aunt's lips.
"We are undiscovered? You have heard nothing, Mr. Donovan?"
"Nothing, Miss Holbrook," I said; and I turned away from Miss
Pat--whose eyes made lying difficult--to Helen, who met my gaze with
charming candor.
And I took account of the girl anew as I walked between her and Miss
Pat, through a trellised lane that alternated crimson ramblers and
purple clematis, to the chapel, Sister Margaret's brown-robed figure
preceding us. The open sky, the fresh airs of morning, the bird-song
and the smell of verdurous earth in themselves gave Sabbath
benediction. I challenged all my senses as I heard Helen's deep voice
running on in light banter with her aunt. It was not possible that I
had seen her through the dusk only the day before, traitorously meeting
her father, the foe of this dear old lady who walked beside me. It was
an impossible thing; the thought was unchivalrous and unworthy of any
man calling himself gentleman. No one so wholly beautiful, no one with
her voice, her steady tranquil eyes, could, I argued, do ill. And yet
I had seen and heard her; I might have touched her as she crossed my
path and ran down to the house-boat!
She wore to-day a white and green gown and trailed a green parasol in a
white-gloved hand. Her small round hat with its sharply upturned brim
imparted a new frankness to her face. Several times she looked at me
quickly--she was almost my own height--and there was no questioning the
perfect honesty of her splendid eyes.
"We hoped you might drop in yesterday afternoon," she said, and my ears
were at once alert.
"Yes," laughed Miss Pat, "we were--"
"We were playing chess, and almost came to blows!" said Helen. "We
played from tea to dinner, and Sister Margaret really had to come and
tear us away from our game."
I had now learned, as though by her own intention, that she had been at
St. Agatha's, playing a harmless game with her aunt, at the very moment
that I had seen her at the canoe-maker's. And even more conclusive was
the fact that she had made this statement before her aunt, and that
Miss Pat had acquiesced in it.
We had reached the church door, and I had really intended entering with
them; but now I was in no frame of mind for church; I murmured an
excuse about having letters to write.
"But this afternoon we shall go for a ride or a sail; which shall it
be, Miss Holbrook?" I said, turning to Miss Pat in the church porch.
She exchanged glances with Helen before replying.
"As you please, Mr. Donovan. It might be that we should be safer on
the water--"
I was relieved. On the lake there was much less chance of her being
observed by Henry Holbrook than in the highways about Annandale. It
was, to be sure, a question whether the man I had encountered at the
canoe-maker's was really her brother; that question was still to be
settled. The presence of Gillespie I had forgotten utterly; but he
was, at any rate, the least important figure in the little drama
unfolding before me.
"I shall come to your pier with the launch at five o'clock," I said,
and with their thanks murmuring in my ears I turned away, went home and
called for my horse.
I repeated my journey of the night before, making daylight acquaintance
with the highway. I brought my horse to a walk as I neared the
canoe-maker's cottage, and I read his sign and the lettering on his
mail-box and satisfied myself that the name Hartridge was indisputably
set forth on both. The cedar hedge and the pines before the house shut
the cottage off from the curious completely; but I saw the flutter of
white curtains in the open gable windows, and the red roof agleam in
the bright sunlight. There was no one in sight; perhaps the adventure
and warning of the night had caused Holbrook to leave; but at any rate
I was bent upon asking about him in Tippecanoe village.
This place, lying about two miles beyond the canoe-maker's, I found to
be a sleepy hamlet of perhaps fifty cottages, a country store, a
post-office, and a blacksmith shop. There was a water-trough in front
of the store, and I dismounted to give my horse a drink while I went to
the cottage behind the closed store to seek the shopkeeper.
I found him in a garden under an apple-tree reading a newspaper. He
was an old fellow in spectacles, and, assuming that I was an idler from
the summer colony, he greeted me courteously.
He confirmed my impression that the crops were all in first-rate
condition, and that the day was fine. I questioned him as to the
character of the winters in this region, spoke of the employments of
the village folk, then mentioned the canoe-maker.
"Yes; he works the year round down there on the Tippecanoe. He sells
his canoes all over the country--the Hartridge, that's his name. You
must have seen his sign there by the cedar hedge. They say he gets big
prices for his canoes."
"I suppose he's a native in these parts?" I ventured.
"No; but he's been here a good while. I guess nobody knows where he
comes from--or cares. He works pretty hard, but I guess he likes it."
"He's an industrious man, is he?"
"Oh, he's a steady worker; but he's a queer kind, too. Now he never
votes and he never goes to church; and for the sake of the argument,
neither do I,"--and the old fellow winked prodigiously. "He's a mighty
odd man; but I can't say that that's against him. But he's quiet and
peaceable, and now his daughter--"
"Oh, he has a daughter?"
"Yes; and that's all he has, too; and they never have any visitors.
The daughter just come home the other day, and we ain't hardly seen her
yet. She's been away at school."
"I suppose Mr. Hartridge is absent sometimes; he doesn't live down
there all the time, does he?"
"I can't say that I could prove it; sometimes I don't see him for a
month or more; but his business is his own, stranger," he concluded
pointedly.
"You think that if Mr. Hartridge had a visitor you'd know it?" I
persisted, though the shopkeeper grew less amiable.
"Well, now I might; and again I mightn't. Mr. Hartridge is a queer
man. I don't see him every day, and particularly in the winter I don't
keep track of him."
With a little leading the storekeeper described Hartridge for me, and
his description tallied exactly with the man who had caught me on the
canoe-maker's premises the night before. And yet, when I had thanked
the storekeeper and ridden on through the village, I was as much
befuddled as ever. There was something decidedly incongruous in the
idea that a man who was, by all superficial signs, at least, a
gentleman, should be established in the business of making canoes by
the side of a lonely creek in this odd corner of the world. From the
storekeeper's account, Hartridge might be absent from his retreat for
long periods; if he were Henry Holbrook and wished to annoy his sister,
it was not so far from this lonely creek to the Connecticut town where
Miss Pat lived. Again, as to the daughter, just home from school and
not yet familiar to the eyes of the village, she might easily enough be
an invention to hide the visits of Helen Holbrook. I found myself
trying to account for the fact that, by some means short of the
miraculous, Helen Holbrook had played chess with Miss Pat at St.
Agatha's at the very hour I had seen her with her father on the
Tippecanoe. And then I was baffled again as I remembered that Paul
Stoddard had sent the two women to St. Agatha's, and that their
destination could not have been chosen by Helen Holbrook.
My thoughts wandered into many blind alleys as I rode on. I was
thoroughly disgusted with myself at finding the loose ends of the
Holbrooks' affairs multiplying so rapidly. The sun of noon shone hot
overhead, and I turned my horse into a road that led homeward by the
eastern shore of the lake. As I approached a little country church at
the crown of a long hill I saw a crowd gathered in the highway and
reined my horse to see what had happened. The congregation of farmers
and their families had just been dismissed; and they were pressing
about a young man who stood in the center of an excited throng.
Drawing closer, I was amazed to find my friend Gillespie the center of
attention.
"But, my dear sir," cried a tall, bearded man whom I took to be the
minister of this wayside flock, "you must at least give us the
privilege of thanking you! You can not know what this means to us, a
gift so munificent--so far beyond our dreams."
Whereat Gillespie, looking bored, shook his head, and tried to force
his way through the encircling rustics. He was clad in a Norfolk
jacket and knickerbockers of fantastic plaid, with a cap to match.
A young farmer, noting my curiosity and heavy with great news,
whispered to me:
"That boy in short pants put a thousand-dollar bill in the collection
basket. All in one bill! They thought it was a mistake, but he told
our preacher it was a free gift."
Just then I heard the voice of my fool raised so that all might hear:
"Friends, on the dusty highway of life I can take none of the honor or
credit you so kindly offer me. The money I have given you to-day I
came by honestly. I stepped into your cool and restful house of
worship this morning in search of bodily ease. The small voice of
conscience stirred within me. I had not been inside a church for two
years, and I was greatly shaken. But as I listened to your eloquent
pastor I was aware that the green wall-paper interrupted my soul
currents. That vegetable-green tint is notorious as a psychical
interceptor. Spend the money as you like, gentlemen; but if I, a
stranger, may suggest it, try some less violent color scheme in your
mural decorations."
He seemed choking with emotion as with bowed head he pushed his way
through the circle and strode past me. The people stared after him,
mystified and marveling. I heard an old man calling out:
"How wonderful are the ways of the Lord!"
I let Gillespie pass, and followed him slowly until a turn in the road
hid us from the staring church folk. He turned and saw me.
"You have discovered me, Donovan. Be sure your sins will find you out!
A simple people, singularly moved at the sight of a greenback. I have
rarely caused so much excitement."
"I suppose you are trying to ease your conscience by giving away some
of your button money."
"That is just it, Donovan. You have struck the brass tack on the head.
But now that we have met again, albeit through no fault of my own, let
me mention matters of real human interest."
"You might tell me what you're doing here first."
"Walking; there were no cabs, Donovan."
"You choose a queer hour of the day for your exercise."
"One might say the same for your ride. But let us be sensible. I dare
say there's some common platform on which we both may stand."
"We'll assume it," I replied, dismounting by the roadside that I might
talk more easily. Bandages were still visible at his wrists, and a
strip of court-plaster across the knuckles of his right hand otherwise
testified to the edges of the glass in St. Agatha's garden. He held up
his hands ruefully.
"Those were nasty slashes; and I ripped them up badly in climbing out
of your window. But I couldn't linger: I am not without my little
occupations."
"You stand as excellent chance of being shot if you don't clear out of
this. If there's any shame in you you will go without making further
trouble."
"It has occurred to me," he began slowly, "that I know something that
you ought to know. I saw Henry Holbrook yesterday."
"Where?" I demanded.
"On the lake. He's rented a sloop yacht called the _Stiletto_. I
passed it yesterday on the Annandale steamer and I saw him quite
distinctly."
"It's all your fault that he's here!" I blurted, thoroughly aroused.
"If you had not followed those women they might have spent the
remainder of their lives here and never have been molested. But he
undoubtedly caught the trail from you."
Gillespie nodded gravely and frowned before he answered.
"I am sorry to spoil your theory, my dear Irish brother, but put this
in your pipe: _Henry was here first_! He rented the sail-boat ten days
ago--and I made my triumphal entry a week later. Explain that, if you
please, Mr. Donovan."
I was immensely relieved by this disclosure, for it satisfied me that I
had not been mistaken in the identity of the canoe-maker. I had,
however, no intention of taking the button king into my confidence.
"Where is Holbrook staying?" I asked casually.
"I don't know--he keeps afloat. The _Stiletto_ belongs to a Cincinnati
man who isn't coming here this summer and Holbrook has got the use of
the yacht. So much I learned from the boat storage man at Annandale;
then I passed the _Stiletto_ and saw Henry on board."
It was clear that I knew more than Gillespie, but he had supplied me
with several interesting bits of information, and, what was more to the
point, he had confirmed my belief that Henry Holbrook and the
canoe-maker were the same person.
"You must see that I face a difficult situation here, without counting
you. You don't strike me as a wholly bad lot, Gillespie, and why won't
you run along like a good boy and let me deal with Holbrook? Then when
I have settled with him I'll see what can be done for you. Your
position as an unwelcome suitor, engaged in annoying the lady you
profess to love, and causing her great anxiety and distress, is
unworthy of the really good fellow I believe you to be."
He was silent for a moment; then he spoke very soberly.
"I promise you, Donovan, that I will do nothing to encourage or help
Holbrook. I know as well as you that he's a blackguard; but my own
affairs I must manage in my own way."
"But as surely as you try to molest those women you will have to answer
to me. I am not in the habit of beginning what I never finish, and I
intend to keep those women out of your way as well as out of Holbrook's
clutches, and if you get a cracked head in the business--well, the
crack's in your own skull, Mr. Gillespie."
He shrugged his shoulders, threw up his head and turned away down the
road.
There was something about the fellow that I liked. I even felt a
certain pity for him as I passed him and rode on. He seemed simple and
guileless, but with a dogged manliness beneath his absurdities. He was
undoubtedly deeply attached to Helen Holbrook and his pursuit of her
partook of a knight-errantish quality that would have appealed to me in
other circumstances; but he was the most negligible figure that had yet
appeared in the Holbrook affair, and as I put my horse to the lope my
thoughts reverted to Red Gate. That chess game and Helen's visit to
her father were still to be explained; if I could cut those cards out
of the pack I should be ready for something really difficult. I
employed myself with such reflections as I completed my sweep round the
lake, reaching Glenarm shortly after two o'clock.
I was hot and hungry, and grateful for the cool breath of the house as
I entered the hall.
"Miss Holbrook is waiting in the library," Ijima announced; and in a
moment I faced Miss Pat, who stood in one of the open French windows
looking out upon the wood.
She appeared to be deeply absorbed and did not turn until I spoke.
"I have waited for some time; I have something of importance to tell
you, Mr. Donovan," she began, seating herself.
"Yes, Miss Holbrook."
"You remember that this morning, on our way to the chapel, Helen spoke
of our game of chess yesterday?"
"I remember perfectly," I replied; and my heart began to pound
suddenly, for I knew what the next sentence would be.
"Helen was not at St. Agatha's at the time she indicated."
"Well, Miss Pat," I laughed, "Miss Holbrook doesn't have to account to
me for her movements. It isn't important--"
"Why isn't it important?" demanded Miss Pat in a sharp tone that was
new to me. She regarded me severely, and as I blinked under her
scrutiny she smiled a little at my discomfiture.
"Why, Miss Holbrook, she is not accountable to me for her actions. If
she fibbed about the chess it's a small matter."
"Perhaps it is; and possibly she is not accountable to me, either."
"We must not probe human motives too deeply, Miss Holbrook," I said
evasively, wishing to allay her suspicions, if possible. "A young
woman is entitled to her whims. But now that you have told me this, I
suppose I may as well know how she accounted to you for this trifling
deception."
"Oh, she said she wished to explore the country for herself; she wished
to satisfy herself of our safety; and she didn't want you to think she
was running foolishly into danger. She chafes under restraint, and I
fear does not wholly sympathize with my runaway tactics. She likes a
contest! And sometimes Helen takes pleasure in--in--being perverse.
She has an idea, Mr. Donovan, that you are a very severe person."
"I am honored that she should entertain any opinion of me whatever," I
replied, laughing.
"And now," said Miss Pat, "I must go back. Helen went to her room to
write some letters against a time when it may be possible to
communicate with our friends, and I took the opportunity to call on
you. It might be as well, Mr. Donovan, not to mention my visit."
I walked beside Miss Pat to the gate, where she dismissed me, remarking
that she would be quite ready for a ride in the launch at five o'clock.
The morning had added a few new-colored threads to the tangled skein I
was accumulating, but I felt that with the chess story explained I
could safely eliminate the supernatural; and I was relieved to find
that no matter what other odd elements I had to reckon with, a girl who
could be in two places at the same time was not among them.
Holbrook had not impressed me disagreeably; he had treated me rather
decently, all things considered. The fact that he had enemies who were
trying to kill him added zest to the whole adventure upon which my
clerical friend Stoddard had launched me. The Italian sailor was a
long way from tide-water, and who his employer was--the person who had
hung aloof so conservatively during my scramble on the deck of the
house-boat--remained to be seen. From every standpoint the Holbrook
incident promised well, and I was glad to find that human beings were
still capable of interesting me so much.