Hillars hadn't been down to the office in two days, so the assistant
said.
"Is he ill?" I asked, as I carried a chair to the window.
"Ill?" The young man coughed affectedly.
"Do you believe it possible for him to come in this afternoon?"
"It is quite possible. One does not use the word impossible in regard
to Hillars. It is possible that he may be in St. Petersburg by this
time, for all I know. You see," with an explanatory wave of the hand,
"he's very uncertain in his movements. For the last six months he has
been playing all over the table, to use the parlance of the roulette
player. I have had to do most of the work, and take care of him into
the bargain. If I may take you into my confidence----," with some
hesitancy.
"Certainly," said I. "I want you to tell me all about him. He was my
roommate at college. Perhaps I can straighten him up."
"The truth is, the trouble began last September. He came back from the
Continent, where he had been on an errand, a changed man. Hillars
always drank, but never to an alarming extent. On his return, however,
he was in a bad shape. It was nearly November before I got him sobered
up; and then he went under on an average of three times a week. I
asked him bluntly what he meant by it, and he frankly replied that if
he wanted to drink himself to death, that was his business. When he
isn't half-seas over he is gloomy and morose. From the first I knew
that something had gone wrong on the mainland; but I couldn't trap him
for a farthing. No man at his age drinks himself to death without
cause; I told him so, but he only laughed at me. I'd give a good deal
to know what the truth is; not from curiosity, mind you, but to find
the disease in order to apply a remedy. Dan's father died of drink."
"No," said I coldly; "he was shot."
"Oh, I know that," was the reply; "but give a conditioned man the same
wound and he will recover, nine times out of ten. The elder Hillars
was so enervated by drink that he had no strength to fight the fever
which came on top of the bullet-hole. Something happened over there;
and it's pounds to pence there's a woman back of the curtain. It is
some one worth while. Hillars is not a man to fall in love with a
barmaid."
I began to respect the young man's wisdom.
"So you believe it to be a woman?"
"Yes. The wind blows from one point at a time. There are four points
to the vane of destiny; there is ambition for glory, ambition for
power, ambition for wealth, and ambition for love. In Hillars's case,
since the wind does not blow from the first three, it must necessarily
blow from the fourth. You know him better than I do; so you must
certainly know that Hillars is not a man to drink because glory or
power or wealth refused to visit him."
"You are a very discerning young man," said I, whereat he laughed.
"Did he get my cable?"
"No. I thought that it was some order from headquarters and opened it
myself. I put it in his desk. I spoke to him, but he was too drunk to
pay any heed to what I said. Well, I must be going. I am getting out
a symposium of editorials from the morning papers on the possibility of
a Franco-Russian alliance. It must be at the cable office in half an
hour. If you are going to wait, you'll find the Berlin and Paris files
in the next room. I'll see you later," and he departed.
It was five of the clock. The Strand was choked. Here and there I saw
the color of martial attire. Save for this, and that the buildings
were low and solid, and that most of the people walked slower, I might
have been looking down upon Broadway for all the change of place I saw.
There is not much difference between New York and London, except in the
matter of locomotion. The American gets around with more rapidity than
does his English cousin, but in the long run he accomplishes no more.
It is only when one steps onto the Continent that the real difference
in the human races is discerned. Strange as this may seem, it is not
distinguishable in a cosmopolitan city. My eyes were greeted with the
same huge wearisome signs of the merchants; the same sad-eyed "sandwich
men;" the same newsboys yelling and scampering back and forth; the same
rumble of the omnibuses, the roar of the drays, and the rattle of the
cabs. I was not much interested in all I saw. Suddenly my roving eyes
rested upon a familiar face. It was Hillars, and he was pushing
rapidly across the street. Any one would have instantly marked him for
an American by the nervous stride, the impatience at being obstructed.
I went into the fire-room, intending to give him a little surprise. I
did not have long to wait. The door to the main office opened and he
came in, singing a snatch from a drinking song we used to sing at
college. The rich baritone that had once made the old glee club famous
was a bit husky and throaty. I heard him unlock his desk and roll back
the lid. There was a quiet for a moment.
"Dick!" he called. "Hi, Dick! Well, I'm hanged!"
Evidently he had discovered my cable.
"Dick isn't in," said I, crossing the threshold.
In a moment our hands were welded together, and we were gazing into
each other's eyes.
"You old reprobate!" I cried; "not to have met me at the station, even."
"Bless my soul, Jack, this cable was the first intimation that you were
within 3,000 miles of London. But it does my heart good to see you!"
pumping my hand again. "Come out to dinner with me. Now don't begin
to talk till we've had something to eat; I'm almost famished. I know
all the questions you want to ask, but not now. There's a Bohemian
joint a block above that'll do your heart good to see. We'll have
chops and ale, just like we did in the old days, the green and salad
days, I would they were back again"--soberly. "Oh, I've a long story
to tell you, my son; time enough when we get to my rooms; but not a
word of it now--not a word. It will all be forgotten in ten minutes
with you. We'll rake up the old days and live 'em over for an hour or
so. I'm glad that I suggested you in my letter. What did the old man
say about my nervous prostration?"--with half a laugh.
"He put quotation marks around it," I answered. "I wanted to see you
particularly. They told me that you were rolling downhill so fast that
if some one did not put a fulcrum under you, you'd be at the bottom in
no time at all. I'm going to be the lever by which you are to be
rolled uphill again."
He smiled grimly. "If any one could do that--well, here we are;" and
we entered the chop house and took a table in one of the side rooms.
"Woods," he said to the waiter, "chops for two, chipped potatoes, and
fill up those steins of mine with ale. That will be all. I brought
those steins from across, Jack; you'll go crazy over them, for they are
beauties."
A college-bred bachelor, nine times out of ten, has a mania for
collecting pipes or steins, or both. Dan and I had been affected this
way. During the year I had studied at Heidelberg I had gathered
together some fifty odd pipes and steins. I have them yet, and many a
pleasant memory they beget me. As for the steins of Dan, they were
beyond compare.
"I'll tell you a story about them," said Dan, after he had taken a deep
swallow of the amber ale. "Few men can boast of steins like these.
Not many months ago there was a party of men and women, belonging to
the capital of a certain kingdom, who attended a dinner. It was one of
those times when exalted personages divest themselves of the dignity
and pomp of court and become free and informal. There were twenty of
these steins made especially for the occasion. By a circumstance, over
which I had no control, I was the only alien at this dinner. The
steins were souvenirs. How I came by two was due to the lady whom I
took down to dinner, and who presented hers to me after having--after
having--well, kissed the rim. Do you see the crest?" pointing to the
exquisite inlaid work.
"Why," I said eagerly, "it is the crest of----"
"Yes, a noted King," Dan completed. "And these were made by his
express command. But never mind," he broke off. "It's merely a part
of the story I am going to tell you when we get to my rooms. I am
always thinking of it, night and day, day and night. Talk to me, or
I'll be drinking again. This is the first time I've been sober in a
month. It's drink or morphine or something like. Do you ever see
anything of the old glee boys?"
"Once in a while. You know," said I, lighting a cigarette, "all the
fellows but you and I had money. Most of them are carrying on the
business of their paters and ornamenting dinner parties and cotillions."
"I thought that you had a rich uncle," said Dan.
"I did have, but he is no more," and I told him all about the bequest.
He laughed so long and heartily over it that I was glad for his sake
that it had happened. Already I was beginning to look wholly upon the
humorous side of the affair.
"It is almost too good not to be printed," he said. "But his son may
square matters when he dies."
"I do not want matters squared," I growled. "I can earn a living for a
few years to come. I shan't worry."
"By the way, is that Miss Landors whom you used to rave about in your
letters married yet?"
"No." Miss Landors was Phyllis only to her intimate friends. I called
the waiter and ordered him to replenish my stein, Dan watching me
curiously the while. "No, Miss Landors is not married yet."
"I have often wondered what she looked like," he mused.
"When do you go on your vacation?" I asked irrelevantly.
"In a week or ten days; may be to-morrow. It's according to how long I
stay sober."
I was sorry that he had recalled to me the name of Phyllis. It
dampened my sociability. I was not yet prepared to take him into my
confidence. The ale, however, loosened our tongues, and though we did
not talk about our present affairs we had a pleasant time recounting
the days when we were young in the sense that we had no real trouble.
Those were the times when we were earning fifteen and twenty the week;
when our watches were always in durance vile; when we lied to the poor
washerwoman and to the landlady; when we would always be "around
to-morrow" and "settle up" with our creditors.
"There was no ennui those days," laughed Hillars.
"True. Do you remember the day you stayed in bed because it was
cheaper to sleep than work on an empty stomach?"
"And do you remember the time I saved you from jail by giving the
Sheriff my new spring overcoat to pay a washerwoman's bill of six
months' standing?"
"I hung around Jersey City that day," said I. And then there was more
ale; and so on. It was nine when at last we rose.
"Well, we'll go back to the office and get your case," said Dan.
"Where's your trunk?"
"At the Victoria."
"All your luggage must be sent to my rooms. I will not hear of your
going elsewhere for lodging while in town. I have a floor, and you
shall share it. It's a bachelor's ranch from basement to garret,
inhabited by artists, journalists, one or two magazine men, a clever
novelist, and three of our New York men. There is no small fry save
myself. We have little banquets every Friday night, and they sometimes
last till Saturday noon. I've taught the Frenchman who represents the
Paris _Temps_ how to play poker, and he threatens to become my
Frankenstein, who will eventually devour me." Hillars laughed, and it
sounded like the laughter of other days. "Jack, I think you will do me
good. Stay with me and keep me away from the bottle if you can. No
man drinks for pure love of liquor. My father never loved it, and God
knows what he was trying to forget. For that's the substance of it
all, to forget. When you start out to the point of forgetfulness, you
must keep it up; regret comes back threefold with soberness. It seems
silly and weak for a man who has been buffeted as I have, who is
supposed to gather wisdom and philosophy as a snowball gathers snow as
it rolls down hill, to try to drown regret and disappointment in
liquor. A man never knows how weak he is till he meets the one woman
and she will have none of him."
And somehow I got closer to Hillars, spiritually. There were two of
us, so it seemed, only I was stronger, or else my passion did not burn
so furiously as his.
The apartments occupied by Dan were all a bachelor could wish for. The
walls were covered with photographs, original drawings, beer steins,
pipes, a slipper here, a fan there, and books and books and books. I
felt at home at once.
I watched Hillars as he moved about the room, tidying up things a bit,
and I noticed now more than ever how changed he was. His face had
grown thin, his hair was slightly worn at the crown and temples, and
there were dark circles under his eyes. Yet, for all these signs of
dissipation, he was still a remarkably handsome man. Though not so
robust as when I last saw him, his form was yet elegant. In the old
days we had called him Adonis, and Donie had clung to him long after
the Cambridge time.
"Now," said he, when we had lighted our pipes, "I'll tell you why I'm
going to the dogs. I've got to tell it to some one or go daft; and I
can't say that I'm not daft as it is."
"It is a woman," said I, after reflection, "who causes a man to drink,
to lose all ambition."
"It is."
"It is a woman," I went on, holding the amber stem of my pipe before
the light which gleamed golden through the transparent gum, "who causes
a man to pull up stakes and prospect for new claims, to leave the new
country for the old."
"It is a woman indeed," he replied. He was gazing at me with a new
interest. "If the woman had accepted him, he would not have been here."
"No, he would not," said I.
"In either case, yours or mine."
"In either case. Go on with your story; there's nothing more to add to
mine."
Some time passed, and nothing but the breathing of the pipes was heard.
Now and then I would poke away at the ashes in my pipe bowl, and Dan
would do the same.
"Have you a picture of her?" I asked, reaching for some fresh tobacco.
"No; I am afraid to keep one."
To me this was a new phase in the matter of grand passions.
"A likeness which never changes its expression means nothing to me," he
explained. "Her face in all its moods is graven in my mind; I have but
to shut my eyes, and she stands before me in all her loveliness. Do
you know why I wanted this vacation? Rest?" His shoulders went up and
his lips closed tighter. "My son, I want no rest. It is rest which is
killing me. I am going across. I am going to see her again, if only
from the curb as she rolls past in her carriage, looking at me but not
recognizing me, telling her footman to brush me aside should I attempt
to speak to her. Yet I would suffer this humiliation to see that
glorious face once more, to hear again that voice, though it were keyed
to scorn. I am a fool, Jack. What! have I gone all these years
free-heart to love a chimera in the end? Verily I am an ass. She is a
Princess; she has riches; she has a principality; she is the ward of a
King. What has she to do with such as I? Three months in the year she
dwells in her petty palace; the other months find her here and there;
Paris, St. Petersburg, or Rome, as fancy wills. And I, I love her! Is
it not rich? What am I? A grub burrowing at the root of the tree in
which she, like a bird of paradise, displays her royal plumage.
'Masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet
forget not that I am an ass.' The father of this Princess once
rendered the present King's father a great service, and in return the
King turned over to his care a principality whose lineal descendants
had died out. It was with the understanding that so long as he
retained the King's goodwill, just so long he might possess the
principality, and that when he died the sovereignty would pass to his
children. The old King died, and his son sat upon his father's throne.
The father of the Princess also died. The King of to-day made the same
terms as his father before him. The Princess Hildegarde accepted them,
not counting the cost. Last spring she was coronated. Shortly before
the coronation, Prince Ernst of Wortumborg became a suitor for her
hand. The King was very much pleased. Prince Ernst was a cousin of
the Princess Hildegarde's father, and had striven for the principality
in the days gone by. The King, thinking to repair the imaginary wrongs
of the Prince, forced the suit. He impressed upon the Princess that it
was marry the Prince or give up her principality. She gave her
consent, not knowing what to do under the circumstances. Prince Ernst
is a Prince without principality or revenues. In marrying the Princess
he acquires both. I shall tell you how I became concerned."
Hillars laid his smoking pipe in the ash pan. He got up and roamed
about the room, stopped at the window and stared at the inken sky, then
returned to his chair.