A FISHING TRIP
Dorothy, Peter, and I set off at once for the lockup. “I’ve just got to
see my poor boy,” said the girl tearfully. “Think what an awful time he
must have had last night!”
She trotted about the house, busily ordering the fat Rosina here and
there, and presently she called us to her aid.
“There!” said she proudly, pointing out two huge bundles. “Clean sheets
and pillowcases in that one, and a blanket--you know, Uncle George,
Rosina found your blanket and counterpane this morning, the ones the
Poltergeist took? They were down in the coal bin, wadded up, and they
were just filthy! Oh, dear! I wish the horrid thing wouldn’t break and
destroy and dirty everything it touches. It’s a perfectly wretched
ghost, Uncle George, so malicious!”
She carried it off gayly enough, but her big eyes were restless, and I
fancied a hint of fear in their depths. After all, though familiarity
may make a ghost less terrible, no one really enjoys its repeated
visits. And, though she pretended so much courage and jested so gayly
about the tricks of the Poltergeist, I saw that she was haunted by a
very real fear of its comings. The poor child was near the breaking
point.
“There, there, dearie,” I comforted her. “Don’t you fret; everything’ll
come right yet. We’ll have you married off and settled happily in a
bright little red-and-white bungalow, without any ghosts to bother you.
Be brave just a little while longer, child!”
She huddled against my shoulder and wept quietly. “I c-can’t help it,
dear,” she declared. “I’ll be a-all right p-presently. But things are so
darn twisted! And that was my very best counterpane, and I was s-saving
it for our h-house--and I’m a-f-fraid of ghosts. I am so! And my beau’s
in jail, and the wedding put off--and it’s unlucky to postpone weddings,
Uncle George. And Aunt Mary’s just m-mean to me, and I’m s-so unhappy!”
What could I say? I patted her shoulder silently, and presently she
dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, rolled up into a damp ball, and
smiled up at me bravely.
“I’m all right now, dear,” she told me and ran off to powder her nose.
So I shouldered a huge bundle of bedding and took a basket of eatables
in my left hand and descended the steps to Lewis’ flivver, while Peter
followed, even more heavily laden. “Time we get through and old Parker’s
out, we can advertise: ‘Apartment to rent, luxuriously furnished; apply
at the jail.’”
I went back after another load and on the way peeped into the dining
room. Aunt Mary still held forth, as fresh as if she had just begun.
Rosina’s face peeped around the edge of the kitchen door. She was
wondering, no doubt, if they’d ever give her a chance to “cl’ar away.”
Somers still listened with courteous attention, but the eye he turned to
me held a comical appeal for aid.
“We’re going down to see my nephew now, Somers,” I said. “Want to come
along?”
Aunt Mary sighed, her thin eyebrows arched high. “That’s always the
way,” her expression said; “if ever I’m enjoying myself somebody has to
spoil it!” But aloud she declared: “Yes, doctor, don’t let me keep you.
I’ve enjoyed our little chat so much, but of course Dorothy’s wishes
come first. I realize that; and it’s quite natural. I’m used to being
alone!”
Somers gave her a sympathetic glance. “I suppose I ought to go,” he
replied reluctantly; but he rose with suspicious alacrity. “Perhaps when
I get back, Miss McGregor--yours is a very interesting case--I’d like to
hear more about it.”
Aunt Mary shrugged, as much as to say: “Why go away then?” “I always lie
down after breakfast,” she replied.
Somers looked relieved. “Well, some other time then.” His greenish eyes
rested significantly upon the silent nurse. “You ought to get out of
doors more,” he told her. “You need exercise.”
Miss McGregor sniffed. “Oh, she’s healthy enough! You should see her
sleep!” Aunt Mary always resented the suggestion that any one else was
not well; she felt that she had a monopoly of invalidism for the
McGregor family.
Our guest bowed and came out with me. “My,” he exclaimed, “what a
talker!”
“Well, come along!”
He shook his head. “I’m not coming, thanks. Tell old Parker I’ll see him
later. I’ve got other things to do.”
So I left him and went out to the racketing flivver, whose rear seat was
heaped high. I squeezed in beside Dorothy and Peter in front.
“Where’s Somers, unk?” asked the latter.
“Not coming. He doesn’t seem very keen to see Lewis, after all.”
“Well! That’s queer. He’s cooking up some other deep scheme, I suppose.
I shan’t find fault with him, after last night.”
“Probably you’re right, Peter,” I conceded.
But Dorothy, beside me, wriggled impatiently. “You two men are perfectly
blind! He’s just waiting for Aunt Mary to lie down, so he can see Miss
Christie.”
We both laughed. “What, that sleepy thing?”
“Yes! If you had any eyes at all, you could see he was perfectly struck
on her. And she may be a sleepy thing, but just you watch her brighten
up, once there’s a man around to notice her. Oh, you can laugh! But I
tell you Anne Christie is a _beauty_, if she’d just wake up a little.”
“She’s too fat,” objected Peter.
Dorothy gave him a maddeningly superior smile. “And they say men are the
best judges of a woman’s looks! Wait till you see her in an evening
dress, instead of those horrid, stiff, old uniforms! Oh, yes, you will!
I’ll just bet you ten pounds of candy against a carton of cigarettes she
begins to dress up within a week!”
We hunted up a very sheepish constable and told him our errand. He
handed the jail key over to me.
“Yeah,” he said, “you jus’ take it along, an’ bring it back w’en you git
through. Don’t forgit t’ lock th’ door after yuh. Yeah, shore it’ll be
all right! Nobody don’t need t’ know you got it, does they? An’
say”--coming closer and dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper--“they
ain’t no need o’ tellin’ about las’ night, is they?”
It was a bribe, I saw: free access to the jail against silence as to
Rufe Wakefield’s inglorious part in last night’s troubles. He knew he
was safe enough in giving me the key, irregular as it seems; for my
nephew would not have dreamed of escaping, even if I would have allowed
it.
“All right, Rufe,” I promised. “We’ll keep quiet; and I’ll have the key
back to you before noon.”
All this had taken some little time. As we drove back down Main Street,
Dorothy nudged me sharply. “What did I tell you?”
We swung round the corner, past Olsen’s drug store, to reach the jail,
which was almost directly behind it. And on the drug store steps, just
going in, stood Miss Anne Christie, while Doctor Somers held the screen
door back for her, with a long, skinny arm.
“She does carry herself well,” said Peter critically.
Dorothy sniffed. “I think he might be doing something for Lewis, instead
of gallivanting round with that girl!”
We drove on to the lockup, to find my nephew haggard, but fairly
cheerful.
“Rufe brought me in a gorgeous breakfast,” he told us. “Really, he’s not
such a bad chap. Yes, I got quite a bit of sleep, too, but I’ll be glad
of clean sheets. There, there, honey!” Dorothy had choked forlornly,
snuggling close to his shoulder. “Don’t worry any more; old Somers’ll
figure out some way of getting me out in a day or two.”
“But to-morrow was our wedding day!” she exclaimed disconsolately. “And,
besides, your precious Somers is just flirting with Aunt Mary’s nurse;
he’s not trying to do a thing for us!”
However she did her bridegroom’s prospective best man something less
than justice. It might have been an hour later, while we four still sat
with our heads together, cudgeling our brains for a way out, that he
strolled casually in.
I heard the outer doorknob rattle and started up, for I had forgotten to
lock the door after us, and I feared some official visitor. Before I
could reach it, the heavy door swung back, and Somers’ black head
appeared.
“Thought I’d find you folks here,” he said. “Ought to be locked in,
though; people might talk about our vigilant cop.” He turned the key on
the inside and paused to laugh silently.
“Clever chap, that Wakefield,” he went on, advancing. His long,
grotesquely thin legs moved stiffly, like a pair of compasses. “I heard
him talking about that little affair last night; he’s out on Main
Street, holding forth right now. ‘An’ I stood right there beside the
lockup,’ he was saying, ‘ready f’r bus’ness. ’At skinny feller come in
on Number Seven, he stood on th’ steps ’ith a bumb, darin’ ’em t’ come
any furder. They was all a-yellin’, an’ they wouldn’t of paid him no
mind, but then _I_ come out ’ith th’ ole persuader’--and he showed them
that rusty pocket cannon he lugs around--‘an’, “Stan’ back, fellers!” I
says. We-ell, they all knew _me_! An’ so they wa’n’t no lynchin’ las’
night!’”
We all laughed. Somers’ imitation of the constable’s rumbling drawl was
irresistibly comic.
“So that’s what he’s telling!” A light struck me. “No wonder he didn’t
want us to talk about last night! He bribed us to keep quiet, doctor, by
letting us take the jail key.”
“I told you you had a clever constable, unk. Oh, I’ve learned lots of
things this morning! I’ve talked with a number of your leading citizens,
so I have.”
“When we saw you, you were otherwise occupied,” said Dorothy cruelly.
“Or is Miss Christie one of the ‘leading citizens’ you meant?”
Somers merely smiled at her. “Oh, that! I took her to the drug store to
get some thyroid extract. The girl’s sick, and I’m going to cure her.
Wait a couple of weeks; you won’t know her!”
“And after you got the medicine?” I prompted, curious to know how he had
forgathered with Wakefield.
“Oh, Miss Christie introduced me to the druggist, Olsen, then she went
on home. And I hung around, making myself agreeable. Just a little
fishing expedition, Uncle George--that’s all!”