She walked up and down the room like one distraught.
"Knowing that Roland is innocent would you dare to marry Mount?" I
asked.
"It is too late!" she cried.
At this moment we were warned by a sound in the next room to pull
ourselves together. The door opened and Mrs. Bleecker's fawning
countenance appeared in the opening.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said, cringing. "I didn't know you were
still engaged." She did not withdraw, however, but favoured me with a
good, long stare.
I never saw the gentle Irma so angry. "Leave the room!" she commanded.
"I told you I was not to be disturbed!"
If she had always taken the same tone with that woman it would have
been better for her. Mrs. Bleecker precipitately retired.
Irma continued to pace the floor. "What shall I do?" she murmured,
twisting her hands together. "I have not the strength to face him out."
"Don't try," I suggested.
"What do you mean?"
"Beat it," I said in homely slang.
A gleam of light, of mischief appeared in her tortured face. "But
how?--where? Will you go with me?" she cried breathlessly. "What will
I do about the women here? What explanation shall I make?"
"One thing at a time!" I protested. "Make no explanation. You are
your own mistress. If you like you can leave Alfred a note saying you
have changed your mind. As to the women----"
"I can trust Marie."
"Very well. Send Mrs. Bleecker out on an errand. No trouble to invent
an errand at this juncture. You can be gone when she returns."
"Will you come with me?"
I shook my head. "Matters are rapidly approaching a crisis," I said.
"I must stay on the job."
"But where will I go?"
"That's up to you. I can only offer a suggestion----"
"Yes! Yes! Don't tease me."
"You have a difficult time ahead of you. I think you need a man's
support."
A crimson tide swept up from her neck.
"I would put on my oldest and plainest suit," I went on wickedly, "and
go register at some quiet little hotel, the last place they would think
of looking for you. I will give you the name of such a place. At
five-thirty this afternoon I would go to a certain horrible cheap
little restaurant known as the American café, which is on Third avenue
near Sixteenth street. Half-past five remember, and just see what
happens."
"If you would only come with me--I mean as far as the door," she
murmured in confusion.
"Too risky," I said. "Mind I do not guarantee anything in any event.
It's up to you. A certain young friend of ours has the pride of
Lucifer, and you have made a ghastly wound in it. You will have to
humble yourself shockingly."
In her present mood I saw she was quite ready to do that.
"This is what I'm counting on," I went on. "Pride is pretty poor fare.
Let him act as high and mighty as he likes, he's really starving for
all that makes life worth living. The unexpected sight of you ought to
be like a feast to his eyes. I'm hoping he'll fall to, before his
damnable pride has a chance to bring up reserves. One thing more. If
anything prevents him from supping there as usual, he lives at # --
East Seventeenth street."
"Are you sure he loves me still?" she whispered.
"Not at all sure," I said coolly. "You'll have to go and find out. If
you've lost him, you've lost a lover that was worth a woman's while."
29
After I had seen Irma safely out of the Rotterdam (I thought she looked
more adorable in her plain black dress and modest hat than in all her
finery), I went back to my own rooms in the hotel. I was expecting a
telephone report from a man whom I had sent to pick up what he could at
the garage where Lorina stored her car. Meanwhile I gave myself up to
the joy of picturing Mrs. Bleecker's dismay when she returned from her
hypothetical errand, and Mount's black rage when he dropped in at four
to be married and found himself minus a bride. I had always suspected
that Mount concealed tigerish tendencies under his too-smooth exterior.
By and by my telephone did ring, but it was not the man I expected. An
agitated young voice hailed me over the wire, which I had some
difficulty in recognising as Blondy's. He was so excited I could not
make head or tail of his message. When I got him straightened out it
ran something like this:
"I have just been at Mrs. Mansfield's office, I mean the down-town
office. She told me last night to come to-day as she had a package to
be taken to a man at the Hotel Madagascar. I was sitting beside her
desk and she was writing a letter to go with the package, when the
telephone bell rang. She knows how to talk over the telephone without
giving anything away. All she said was 'yes' and 'no' and 'repeat
that,' but I saw that it was important because her face changed and her
eyes glittered. When she looks like that it means danger.
"She was talking to a woman called Bella.
"She made some notes on a pad. As soon as she rang off she jumped up.
She said she was called out and told me I needn't wait because she
wouldn't send the package until to-morrow. When she turned to get her
hat I managed to catch a glimpse of the notes she had put down. She
had written:
"Elegantly-dressed man of fifty.
Silvery toupee, waxed moustache, pale face.
Brown suit, waistcoat edged with white.
White spats, white gloves.
Expensive Panama hat, fancy band green and red.
Room 1104."
"This is your description, and this is the number of your room. I was
scared when I saw the expression of her face. She sent me home. She
left at the same time, and took a taxi at the door. She carries her
gun in a kind of pocket in her skirt. Look out for her!"
"I get you, old boy!" I cried. "You've done me a good turn and I
shan't forget it. Don't you worry."
I hung up the receiver, and did a little thinking. I was struck by the
name of the woman who had called Lorina up, Bella. It is not a very
common name. It was Mrs. Bleecker's name. Was this a new thread in my
extraordinary tangle?
It was decidedly awkward to have my disguise laid bare just at this
moment. However, forewarned is forearmed. I set about putting my
affairs in order. I did not know whether Lorina would visit the
Rotterdam or not, but I was sure she would not do so without making her
usual careful arrangements, and not probably, without disguising
herself, all of which would take time. I gave myself an hour, anyway.
I gathered my papers together, and despatched those of them I valued to
Dr. ----, who had been so good to me already. I wrote notes to Mr.
Dunsany, Blondy and other agents instructing them to send their reports
in the care of Oscar Nilson until they heard from me again. All the
beautiful sartorial effects I had to leave behind me. Maybe I could
redeem them later if they were not sold by the hotel to pay my bill.
It was close upon four and I supposed the wedding-guests were
gathering, when my telephone summoned me again.
"Miss Sadie Farrell is calling," said the voice at the other end.
My heart jumped, but simultaneously Caution held up a warning finger.
"One moment," I answered.
I did some rapid thinking. I did not keep the girl waiting an
appreciable moment, but in that time I thought a whole chapter, as one
may do in a crisis. Not Sadie! Better sense instantly told me she
would never come to my hotel. She had a more exalted notion of what
was due her. Lorina, of course. She had used the most obvious
expedient of reaching my rooms. I had three alternatives:
(a) To deny myself to her. But in that case I would virtually be
besieged in the hotel.
(b) To see her down-stairs. She would hardly take a shot at me in the
crowded lobby--but she might very well have some half-crazed youth
there to do it for her.
(c) To have her up-stairs, where she could not pass any signals
outside. I had two rooms----
"Please have Miss Farrell come up-stairs," I said over the phone.
I had one of the best suites at the Rotterdam, a corner room which was
my parlour, and a bedroom. I put the key to the parlour door in my
pocket, retired into the bedroom, and locked the communicating door.
Presently I heard the bell-boy's knock on the parlour door.
"Come in!" I sang out.
Through the door I heard the sounds of two people entering my parlour.
"Hello, Sadie!" I cried. "Make yourself at home. I'll be dressed in a
jiffy!"
An indistinguishable murmur answered me. This was certainly not my
Sadie.
The bell-boy went out, and I heard him retiring down the hall. I gave
him time to get out of the way, then I slipped out of the bedroom into
the hall, key to the other room in hand. I inserted it ever so softly
in the parlour door, and turned it. But she heard! She rushed to the
door and shook it. By that time I was around the corner of the
corridor.
The telephone girl looked at me somewhat curiously as I pressed the
elevator button, but did not quite like to question me. She knew, of
course, that a caller had just been shown into my room.
"I'll be back in a minute," I said carelessly.
Just then I saw the number of my room 1104 displayed on the
switchboard. Lorina had rushed to the phone.
"Is there a drugstore in the hotel?" I asked the girl at random, to
distract her attention.
"No, sir. There is one opposite the Thirty-fourth street entrance."
The elevator was approaching my floor. I needed one more second to
make my getaway. "Is it a reliable place?" I asked.
"Conway's," she said, holding the plug ready in her hand, "one of the
largest in town."
The elevator door was now open, and I stepped aboard. The operator
shoved the plug in, and answered the call. I was carried down.
I could not tell, of course, what form Lorina's appeal for help would
take. In case she might telephone to have me intercepted in the lobby,
I took the precaution to get off at the mezzanine floor. I passed
around the gallery to the other side of the building, and gained the
street without interference.
So there I was safe, but once more homeless.
A gaily-dressed couple left the hotel immediately in front of me. The
woman was talking rather excitedly. Reaching the pavement I saw that
the talker was Miss Beulah Maddox, late of Irma's company. Of course!
No difficulty in guessing what she was excited about. They turned West
on Thirty-fourth street. I was bound in the same direction. I heard
her say:
"Of course nobody believes she's sick. What can be the matter?"
"They've had a row I suppose," replied her companion.
Half a dozen steps farther along, they met another couple likewise
gloriously arrayed. I did not know these two, but it required little
perspicacity to guess that they too belonged to the profession. Miss
Maddox greeted them with a squeal of excitement.
"Oh, my _dears_!"
It was risky, but I could not forbear stopping a moment to listen. I
made out to be looking for a taxi.
"What do you _think_?" cried Miss Maddox. "There's no use your going
any farther! There isn't going to be any wedding!"
"Why?"
"Nobody knows. Another extraordinary caprice of Irma's! Everybody is
told at the desk that she is ill, and the ceremony postponed, but of
course that's only an _excuse_. I had a glimpse of Mr. Mount and he
looked simply _furious_, my dear!"
And so on! And so on! A taxi drew up and I jumped in.
I had myself taken to Oscar's shop, and in one of the little cubicles,
the distinguishing marks of the elegant Mr. Boardman, late of the
Rotterdam, were removed. It would have been fun to adopt another swell
makeup and go back to the Rotterdam to see what was happening, but it
was too risky. It was safer for me to play an humble character now.
Oscar provided me with a longish mop of black hair, and a pair of heavy
black eye-brows. He went out himself to get me the rough clothes I
needed. An hour after I had gone into his shop I came out again, a
typical representative of tough young New York. The Hudson Dusters
would not have rejected me.
It was now nearly half-past five. The hands of the clock reminded me
of the meeting that I had arranged to bring about at that hour. My
heart was very keen for the success of this meeting, yet I was full of
uncomfortable doubts. Now that I had changed my character I felt that
I might safely go and see how things turned out, so I turned my steps
in the direction of the American café on Third avenue.
When I got there Roland was already eating his supper. No sign of Irma
yet. The American is one of those older lunchrooms where they have
long mahogany tables each decorated with a row of sugar bowls and sauce
bottles with squirt tops. In such places one of the squirt tops still
gives "pepper sauce" though I never saw anybody use it. There was a
double row of long tables with a lane between. Roland had the wall
seat of the first table on the right. His shorthand book was propped
against a vinegar bottle, and he studied it while he fed himself.
I took a seat two removes from him on the same side of the table. He
paid no attention to me. I took this distance, because if Irma came I
didn't want to hear too much. No one was likely to sit between us, so
long as there were whole tables vacant. It was a little early for the
supper hour, and there were few in the place.
I ordered the _pièce de resistance_ of such places, viz.: a plate of
beef stew. Roland was almost through his supper, and I wondered
apprehensively if Irma meant to exercise her woman's prerogative of
being late. Perhaps her nerve had failed her, and she would not come.
She had burned her bridges though. What else could she do but come?
From time to time I glanced in my young friend's face. It was pale and
drawn. Verily, I thought, his infernal pride was sapping his youth.
Then I saw Irma and my heart set up a great beating. It's a risky
thing to presume to play Providence to a pair of young souls, one of
whom is as explosive as guncotton. What was going to happen? Irma was
hovering about outside. She glanced in the place nervously.
Unfortunately there was no other woman eating there at the moment,
though women did come to the place. Irma walked on. Had she given up?
My heart sunk. No, presently she came strolling back. She meant to
wait for him outside. I approved her good sense. Plainly dressed
though she was, her entrance into that place would have created a
sensation.
Roland, all unconscious of what was in store, got up, slipped the book
in his pocket, paid his score with an abstracted air, and went out. He
never looked at me. His brain was full of shorthand symbols.
I followed him at once, though I had but started my supper. Nobody
cared so long as I paid.
I was just in time to see them come face to face on the pavement
outside.
"Roland!" she whispered with the loveliest smile surely that ever
bedecked the human countenance; wistful, supplicating and tender.
He started back as if he had been shot, and gazed at her with a kind of
horror. He did not speak. I expect he could not. Passers-by stared
at them curiously. Irma lowered her head, and slipping her hand inside
his arm with affecting confidence, drew him forward away from the
stares. Still he did not speak. He was oblivious to the passers-by,
and to everything else but her. He gazed at her like a man in a
trance, his dark eyes full of a passionate hunger. She only spoke once
more. Raising her eyes to his she moved her lips. I could read them.
"I love you," she whispered.
His lips began to tremble. Where were all his proud vows then?
She drew him around the corner into the quieter side street. She was
weeping now. When she looked at him I could see the bright drops.
They were more potent than any words she could have spoken. Roland
suddenly came to life. He stopped short, flung an arm around her,
turned up her face and kissed her mouth, careless if all New York saw.
So that was all right.
The sight induced me to take the first train out to Amityville where I
might dine and spend the evening with my dear girl. We were much
mystified upon receiving a telegram during the evening signed by my
name. To my astonishment I saw English and Freer on the train
returning from Amityville. The explanation of all this was forthcoming
in the morning.
30
Next morning as soon as Oscar opened his shop, I was on hand to get my
mail. I found that big things had happened during the night.