Elmendorf was an astonished man. He had confidently told Mrs. Lawrence
that the objectionable lieutenant had been ordered off under a cloud of
official censure and forbidden to return. He really believed it. It was
one of his peculiarities that he invariably attached a sinister
explanation to every action of his fellow men and women whose social
station, at least, was superior to his own, when other explanation was
withheld. He had sneeringly told Miss Wallen that unless the gentleman
resigned from the army and returned to be the husband of Miss Allison,
he would not return at all. He believed this too. He was so constituted
mentally that he believed Forrest guilty of anything that could be
alleged against him, believed that Miss Allison was interested in him to
a certain extent, but would probably lose her interest when once the
gallant himself was well out of the way, believed that he could even
convince her, as he had convinced her aunt, that Forrest was totally
unworthy her regard, provided Forrest himself did not return; and, lo
and behold! Forrest had returned, and returned with Miss Allison
herself, brought back on their train,--in their carriage, as he learned
from Aunt Lawrence,--and apparently more influential with the father and
daughter than ever before. Not until luncheon-time that day did he know
of this, and the news came like a dash of ice-water on shivering skin.
It was plain that Mrs. Lawrence looked to him to defend his statement
and name his authorities then and there; for Miss Allison did not come
down to luncheon, Cary was speedily excused and permitted to go about
his own affairs, and then Mrs. Lawrence whirled upon the tutor with the
tidings that not only was Mr. Forrest back, but that Florence had
brought him back; that Mr. Allison, so far from objecting, had
approved--had invited him to lunch with his fellow-magnates at the club
and to dine _en famille_ in the evening. As for Mr. Forrest being under
the ban of official censure, Mrs. Lawrence declared she couldn't
understand it, in view of the fact that he was with the general and his
staff when the party encountered them at Wichita, and that the general
himself had authorized his return to Chicago. "Authorized!" said
Elmendorf, with his ready sneer; "_ordered_, very probably, with the
view of having him tried by court-martial here where the witnesses are
ready; and Mr. Forrest has had the effrontery to saddle himself on
respectable company by way of establishing high connection to start
with. I have heard of just such expedients before. My informants are
men who thoroughly know the ins and outs of military affairs in the
department, and they are not likely to be mistaken." All the same the
tutor was glad to get away and to go post-haste to the Pullman building,
hoping to catch his one intimate in the clerical force and to dodge the
officials with whom he stood in evil odor. Luck often follows audacity.
In the elevator he met two officers to whom he had been presented during
the earlier days of his tutorship, when he was still cordially received.
These gentlemen had been away on duty in the interim, and, knowing
nothing of his lapse from grace, greeted him as pleasantly as ever,
invited him into the aide-de-camps' offices, and there made him at home
in the absence of the usual occupants. They knew nothing of Forrest's
movements beyond the fact that he had not been with his regiment at all.
One of the two was Major Cranston; the other was Lieutenant-Colonel
Kenyon, of Forrest's own regiment. "I suppose you know he--left here
under very sudden--rather summary, orders some two months ago,"
suggested Elmendorf; "and it created, as you can readily imagine, some
little comment in society." No, Kenyon hadn't heard, and he eyed the
speaker sharply from under his bushy, overhanging brows. Cranston,
however, promptly replied that there was nothing in the least remarkable
in it. Officers were frequently hurried off on sudden orders, and there
was no reason why society should be exercised over it. Elmendorf
promptly disavowed any intention of casting the faintest aspersion on
Mr. Forrest, whom he at least had found to be certainly quite the equal
of his comrades in most things pertaining to the officer and gentleman,
although there were some things, perhaps, which to a humble civilian
like himself might call for explanation. He was merely stating a fact,
one which he regretted, of course, as he did all the idle talk that
circulated in superficial circles of society. He was glad to find
officers of such prominence as Kenyon and Cranston so ready to stand up
for Forrest, as some men--he preferred not to mention names--had been
less outspoken, at least, in his behalf. And then Kenyon impatiently
arose and went out, Cranston met a brace of cavalrymen going back to
their regiment after a leave, and Elmendorf drifted away in search of
his clerk and found him.
A glance at the register showed that Forrest had already been in to
report his arrival, had given his old rooms as his present address, and
"verbal instructions of Dept. Comdr." as the explanation of his return.
The adjutant-general, seated in his own office, had seen Forrest, and
had further instructions to communicate, evidently, for they had been
closeted together nearly half an hour, but what passed between them the
clerk could not say, and Elmendorf was left to his own vivid
imagination. Forrest certainly had not rejoined his regiment, and
Elmendorf had chosen to think that that was what he was ordered to do
when leaving Chicago. Thinking of it so much, he had come to believe it
a fact; but Forrest was now back here in Chicago, as suddenly and
mysteriously as he went. He was not, however, back in his old office,
was not then restored to his functions at head-quarters. What more was
needed, therefore, to warrant the belief that he was picked up by the
general in his wanderings in the Indian Territory and sent in for trial
on charges of disobedience of orders and absence without leave? At all
events, it was a working theory in the absence of any other. Elmendorf
strolled away discontentedly, and was presently overhauling books on
Brentano's counters, and there Cranston found him, and, when books were
the theme, found him more to his liking. They walked up to Cranston's
old home that afternoon together, and Elmendorf, as previously detailed,
made his first appearance before Mrs. Sergeant McGrath.
Later he strolled up to the Lambert Memorial, revolving many things in
his mind. With all the discomfort and uneasiness and foreboding
Forrest's sudden reappearance cost him, with all the embarrassment
likely to follow, one reflection had given him joy. There at least
within those walls was a proud and wilful girl whose spirit he had
longed to tame, whose distrust and defiance he had smarted under, but
who now would have to admit the truth of some of the most salient of his
accusations and prophecies with regard to Forrest. There was still
abundant opportunity for him to rejoice in that triumph. Wells did not
like him, but what of that? Wells was probably gone by this time, and
she would be there all alone, bending as usual over her typewriter. She
couldn't order him out or refuse him admittance, since Wells had never
yet done so. She would have to listen, and he would go and break to her
the news of Forrest's return,--of Forrest's return with Florence
Allison, of his luncheon with the magnates at the club to-day, of his
coming to dinner informally, like one of the family, at the Allisons'
to-night. It would be comfort to watch her sensitive face, thought
Elmendorf, and he meant to make the successive announcements as humorous
and lingering as his command of rhetoric would permit. His step was
light, his smile significant, his bearing quite debonair, as he turned
into the private hall-way and encountered the janitor at the first turn.
The janitor was Irish. "Misther Wells is gone--if it's him ye want,
sorr," said he, with scant civility, for the Celt had become imbued with
distaste for the Teuton.
"Then I'll see his secretary," answered Elmendorf, with his usual shrug,
and without a stop.
"Ye wouldn't, bedad, if I saw her first," said honest Maloney, as he
looked after the agitator. "Maneness goes wid the loikes of him, and
mischief and trouble wherever he sets his fut."
Springily did Elmendorf go up the echoing stairway, and then, reaching
the second floor, he saw fit to saunter, and that, too, with noiseless
footfall. He approached the familiar door-way, and the anteroom--the
scene of his discomfiture when Donnelly presented Mart's
liquor-bill--stood invitingly open. But the door to the private office
beyond was closed, and it was barely five o'clock. She was there; he
felt assured of that. He could hear the busy clicking of the typewriter.
She was probably alone, too. Hitherto he had entered unannounced, but
then the door stood open. Why should he knock now? He would not. He
decided to enter as hitherto, and so, quietly, turned the knob and
pushed.
But the door resisted. Evidently it was latched from within. Twice he
made the trial, noiselessly as possible, and then paused to consider.
This was something new. Miss Wallen had locked herself in, or possibly
had locked him out. If not at her desk, she might easily have seen him
sauntering leisurely up the street, might have seen him cross, and,
divining that his object was to see her and perhaps renew his offensive
talk, have taken prompt measures to resist. Well, even if lettered
"Private Office" on the door, it was a public office in point of fact;
and that public office was not for personal use or benefit he had the
authority, in one sententious form or other, of many an Executive, from
Jefferson down. So Elmendorf rapped, and rapped loudly. The clicking
presently ceased, a light footstep was heard, then the voice of the
official stenographer:
"What is wanted?"
"Open the door, please."
"Whom do you wish to see."
"I desire to speak with Miss Wallen."
"Miss Wallen declines."
"I have business to transact."
"Mr. Wells is not here, and Miss Wallen is not empowered to act for him.
You will have to wait and see him to-morrow."
"Miss Wallen, you are barring me out of an office I have a perfect right
to enter, and that I mean to enter here and now, or make formal
complaint to the trustees. If this door is not opened in twenty seconds
I warn you there will be trouble."
To this remark no answer whatever was vouchsafed. Miss Wallen quietly
returned to her typewriter, and the only sound from within was the
clicking of that ingenious machine. Elmendorf had sense enough not to
shout his news, but he had not sense enough to abandon the attempt to
tell her. There was another way of reaching the sanctum, provided he
moved with promptness and decision. It was through the library itself.
Turning away, muttering angrily, he returned through the darkening
corridor, down the stairs, and around to the main entrance. Another
moment, and he was at the lattice that separated the reading-room from
the library proper. There, beyond, were the long aisles and rows of
crowded shelves. Here was the customary throng of patrons, returning or
taking out books. There were the busy attendants bustling to and fro,
and beyond them and beyond those vaults and dim recesses was the passage
leading to the sanctum of the head librarian. A young girl, standing
within the lattice, was noting the numbers of some books upon a slip of
card-board, and, with quick decision, Elmendorf addressed her. "Pardon
me," said he, "I have to go into Mr. Wells's office at once. Miss Wallen
has accidentally locked the door, and can't open it. Will you kindly let
me through this way?"
The girl hesitated an instant. It was against orders, but she had often
seen the gentleman in the library and in the sanctum itself with the
librarian. "I suppose it will be all right," said she, doubtfully.
"Oh, certainly," said Elmendorf. "Pardon my haste; I have left some
papers there that I need at once. Ah, thank you." And slipping through
the wicket, he hastened on his way before any one else could interpose,
and in another moment stood within the sanctum and closed the door
behind him.
Nor was he much surprised to find Miss Wallen no longer at her
instrument, but leaning wearily against the casement, apparently gazing
out into the street. "You see," he began, with cold, sarcastic emphasis,
"the power to lock one door does not make a woman the mistress of an
entire situation. It would have been better had you accepted what was
meant for your good and spared me the necessity of forcing it upon you,
as it were; but I have had my own sisters to protect in the past, and
knew what was best for you. Nor am I to be balked in what I consider my
duty by the obstinacy of a moonstruck, passion-blinded girl."
She had turned her back upon him as he began to speak. Now she turned
and faced him. He half expected fierce denunciation, but, to his
surprise, her manner was as contemptuously cool as his was sardonically
cold.
"You have succeeded in getting in here on the plea of business, Mr.
Elmendorf; but this is insolence."
"It is my business, and has ever been and shall ever be, to stand
between the helplessness of the poor and the oppression of the rich. My
business is to see that you and yours suffer no wrong at the hands of
those who consider such as you their natural prey. I see the ghost of a
smile flickering about your lips, Miss Wallen, and am aware you regard
my mission with disfavor, but you cannot and shall not treat it with
contempt."
She was smiling, poor girl, and it was but the ghost of a wintry smile,
too, for, even in her exasperation and distress, the whimsical,
humorous side of her nature--its helpful, sunny side--was asserting
itself at the moment. For the life of her she could not feel the
indignation he deserved just then, for the contrast between the
grandiloquence of his sentiments and the pettiness of that unpaid
lodging-bill almost forced her to laugh outright.
"I am here," he went on, "because you would not believe my statements
regarding Mr. Forrest, because I feel it my duty to open your eyes as to
his character and intentions. You refused to believe what I said
concerning him and you, and that only confirms my fears. I am powerless
to contend against the logic of a woman's love, but when I spoke of him
and her whom I may be pardoned for referring to as your rival, I spoke
the truth."
Now she was smiling in contemptuous amusement again, as though she
actually considered it beneath her to answer. How amazed would Miss
Allison be at the idea of her being placed on the same plane with a
working-girl!
Her silence and self-control maddened Elmendorf. "Have you no reason, no
sense?" he demanded. "I told you this very day that she had gone to
follow and bring him back, did I not?"
A cool nod of assent.
"I told you he would reappear here, if at all, only as her husband, or
possibly her affianced, did I not?"
Another nod as cool as the first.
"And you turned away in contemptuous unbelief, did you not?"
"Contempt certainly, but unbelief--not entirely."
Elmendorf was fairly trembling with wrath by this time. The idea that
this simple, unlettered, friendless "girl of the people" should so
coolly brave him--him on whose words enraptured ears were wont to hang,
at whose eloquence enthusiastic hundreds burst into applause! It stung
him to the very marrow of his conceit. Something must be said or done to
bring her to her knees, and, believing that she loved and dearly loved
the man in question, he prepared his final _coup_.
"Well, it may modify your contempt to know that my words have come
true."
"That Mr. Forrest was ordered away in disgrace?" she calmly asked.
"Not so much that, as that he has returned, brought back, as I said, by
Miss Allison."
"Why, but that is no news at all. I knew he was coming, and I saw them
together this morning."
"You--saw them--and you knew he was coming?" faltered the tutor. "You
mean to--you mean he writes to you,--that you correspond with him?"
"I mean nothing whatsoever beyond what I said, Mr. Elmendorf,--that I
knew Mr. Forrest would be here this week, that I saw them this morning;
and, as it is his work that lies here unfinished, interrupted by this
visitation, I may now, I presume, return to my business--and you to
yours."
"Then he has been here, too?"
"Yes, and will be again,--another reason, perhaps, why you would better
not linger. I will open the door now,--since it is to let you out."
"Yes, and to let him in, I suppose, and see him behind locked doors, as
you doubtless have before, Miss Wallen----"
"The door is both unlocked and open, Mr. Elmendorf," said she, throwing
it wide, but now in her turn the girl was quivering with indignation.
"Furthermore, one touch on this button brings our janitor here--Mr.
Wells speaks of him as 'our bouncer.'" And her white hand poised not six
inches from the button.
Elmendorf took a long breath. "You may consider this a moral victory,
Miss Wallen," said he, backing to the portal, "but you will do well to
remember this. As I have said before, I have a duty to perform that I
owe to society,--to my employers on the one hand, to the people on the
other. Rest you well assured that whatever may have been his successes,
so called, in the past, there are two schemes of your paragon, Mr.
Forrest, that shall fail, even if I have to fight him through the public
press. In one or other, separately, he may be too much for my efforts,
but at one and the same time that accomplished _roué_ shall never win a
wife in that household and a mistress here."
And immediately thereafter a gentleman coming up the dim corridor
without heard a sound that resembled the loud crack of a toy torpedo,
followed by the reverberant bang of a door, and, a moment later,
encountered an oddly familiar figure hurrying out and hanging on to its
left jowl as though afflicted with a violent attack of _tic douloureux_.
"Why, I believe that's Mr. Elmendorf!" remarked the new-comer, and then
was surprised to find the inner door locked,--to find that he had to
knock thrice before it was opened, and by that time it seemed quite
dark.
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