“Heloise dear,” I said finally, “I don't know what is best. But I know I
can't let you go. Not yet. Not with everything uncertain, like this. We'll
look up another hotel in the morning.”
She pursed her lips. Then, with a look of sober relief that she could
not altogether control she slipped back into her own room. And I closed
the shrunken door behind her, and hung my raincoat over the narrow
opening that was left.
_April 15th, 11 A. M._
|WE are in another dingy little hotel--off to the eastward of the
Legation Quarter, opposite the German wall. We packed our trunks last
night. It is forlorn business, of course. But Heloise has not seemed
greatly depressed. I suppose that any activity is a relief to her
spirits after the strain.
She is out now; and I am a little worried. The situation has switched
about rather oddly, it appears, within the hours, and it is I who must
play the passive rôle.
Directly after breakfast we rode over with our band luggage and engaged
these rooms. I left Heloise here, and myself went back for the trunks.
It took me some little time.
When I returned, I found a note in my room. Heloise had suspended it by
a string from my chandelier, where I could not miss it.
There were only a few sentences, penciled in haste. She feels that she
must see Crocker herself. And now that he, poor fellow, has lost the
advantage of his greater physical strength, they can meet as equals, in
a sense.
This is natural, I think--and right. There would have to be a meeting;
I can see that now. But it is not so easy to sit quietly here. I can do
nothing, except to go on writing until she....
They are calling in the hall. I think they want me at the telephone.
It was Heloise.
I am still to wait. She asks it; and I will. And she is right. It is the
only thing to do. This is her task, not mine.
But what a task for her slender hands--alone there in the great hotel
where men drink and bargain, where tourists swarm, where women parade!
I wish I could know something of the details, and of what is to be done.
If I could only help!
“Anthony,” she said. “He is gone.”
“Gone!” I repeated stupidly.
“He died this morning, Anthony. He was not alive when the automobile
arrived here.”
“But,” I blundered on, “I don't understand--it was a bad fall, but--”
“It was not the fall,” she said. Then, “Wait there, I shall need you.”
I heard the click that cut me off, but for a moment I just stood there
with the receiver still pressed to my ear.
It was I myself who had let him have the knife.
_April 15th. Night._
|HELOISE called me over to the big hotel this noon, and we had a little
talk. I was glad to find her completely mistress of herself. She was
very grave, but she had a direct, practical way about her that, I could
see, had instantly commanded respect among these strangers. One thought
that had worried me not a little during the hours of her absence was
that she might have difficulty in identifying herself as Crocker's
widow. But it was evident that no such question had arisen.
She told me that there was some uncertainty as to whether the American
Minister or the Consul-General at Tientsin should be brought into the
matter, and asked me to speak with the manager.
I was down in the main corridor, near the office, waiting for an
opportunity to do this, when I encountered the Cincinnati man. He rose
from a table, in the lounge, and crooked his finger at me. I joined him.
He glanced about to make sure that no one was within earshot, then
said, talking around his cigar: “I saw them bring him in. Is he dead?”