heartless world we call Society. And I _have_ been indiscreet, I know.
Striving to appear indifferent, I overdid the part. It _was_ foolish
of me to encourage Porshinger, even a little. I ought to have realized
what a dangerous man he is--I ought to have been warned by you, instead
of showing anger at your well meant and entirely justifiable protest. I
have only myself to blame--which makes it all the harder."
"Nonsense! dear.--You did what you thought was right, and because you
thought it was right--and because you feared lest Porshinger would
injure me. Now we are going to stand together--and let Lorraine help
you, if he will--without any obligation on your part," he added, as
she made a vehement gesture of protest. "We shall see whether he
has sufficient manhood to defend his wife if Porshinger starts his
slanderous tales."
"Suppose his first tale is of--us--and what he saw on the Criss-Cross
piazza?" she remarked.
"I will deny it."
"And what--shall I do?"
"You need do nothing--except preserve the dignity of silence."
"But if my husband hearkens to the story, and demands an explanation
from us both?"
"Still the same course for us," Pendleton replied:--"You indignant
silence--me denial."
"And have Society in general laugh knowingly and believe--and even our
friends accept the denial hesitatingly."
"What other course can you suggest?" he asked.
"There is but one other course--tell the truth," she said.
"And raise a greater scandal--and put you in Porshinger's power?" he
objected. "If you admit his tale as to me, won't you practically admit
whatever he may choose to say regarding his own experience with you?"
"You may be right!" she said wearily. "I do not know--whatever you
think best I shall do."
"I've got you into this miserable difficulty and I shall----"
"My dear Montague, dismiss that idea. I got myself in it by my own
insane actions with Amherst."
"And I gave Porshinger the occasion he needed by the fight here and the
kiss at Criss-Cross. I tell you I'm more to blame than are you." He
leaned over close. "If Lorraine would only divorce you, dear--and you
would marry _me_ you wouldn't need care for Porshinger's tales. They
would have lost their point, and no one worth while would ever give
them a thought."
"My _dear_ friend," she exclaimed, looking at him with a serious smile,
"it is not for such as I to think of marriage. I have made too fearful
a mess of the one that still binds me."
"That it still _binds_ you is the material point--nothing else matters
to me."
She sighed and leaned back.
"What if Lorraine does not believe your denial?" she suggested.
"I think he will believe it," Pendleton replied. "He asked me at the
Hospital--it was the day I returned from Criss-Cross--to look out for
you--to protect you from yourself."
"You never told me," she interrupted.
"No--I never told you--and I proceeded almost immediately to quarrel
with you like a little boy."
"Because of his request?" she smiled.
"Forgetful of his request," he said contritely. "I've been a poor sort
of friend to you, Stephanie. I never was Lorraine's friend and I think
he knew it; I fancy that was why he asked me to look out for you--but
I've done it atrociously. I'm a miserable----"
"You are the best friend I have, Montague!" she exclaimed, leaning
forward and putting her hand on his arm,--"the best friend a woman ever
had--you believe in me still, after I've done everything to forfeit
your trust."
"I do--I'm only too glad to believe in you, sweetheart."
"You mustn't call me sweetheart, dear--I mean," with a rush of color
to her cheeks, "I mean, you must not _now_.--It is unwise--and some one
may overhear."
"And when we're where no one can _overhear_?" he whispered.
The entrancing smile flashed for an instant across her face.
"Wait until then," she answered. "We have more serious matters
confronting us. What shall we do in event of Porshinger effecting
anything against me, directly or by his tales? I'm fearfully afraid,
Montague, fearfully afraid!"
"Don't be afraid, Stephanie, don't be afraid!" he counselled. "Let us
do as I suggested--it is the best plan.--Here comes Gladys; does she
know about Porshinger?"
"No--I've not told her yet," she said hastily.--"Yes, it was a very
gorgeous affair--we're discussing the Croyden Ball, my dear"--as Miss
Chamberlain came up, "but then all their affairs are gorgeous and in
exquisite taste."
"They are, indeed," assented Gladys; "but I thought that last night
they surpassed themselves. I never saw anything so charming as the
conservatory. You know how huge it is, and there wasn't a light
visible, yet the illumination was so subtly subdued that you seemed to
see all about you, and yet you didn't--you know what I mean, Montague.
I'm a bit vague----"
"Precisely!" said Pendleton. "You couldn't trust yourself to believe
anything that you thought you saw"--and he shot a glance at Stephanie.
"You have it exactly, just the idea I intended to convey!" she laughed.
"You are a very satisfactory man--isn't he, Stephanie?"
"I'm not committing myself by any rash admissions," Stephanie
smiled--and Gladys knew that the quarrel was ended.
Just then a motor car, driven at reckless speed, dashed over the hill
and up to the Club-house--and Harry Lorraine sprang out.
Gladys glanced swiftly at Stephanie and around to Pendleton.
"I see him," said Stephanie quietly.
"He seems to be in a bit of a hurry," Pendleton remarked, as Lorraine
hastily crossed the piazza and said a word to the doorman.
The latter saluted and replied.
Lorraine turned quickly in their direction--then hurried over.
"He is coming here!" said Gladys wonderingly; while Stephanie frowned
slightly, and Pendleton began to drum lightly on one knee.
"I hope you will pardon me if I'm intruding," Lorraine apologized as he
came up, "but I've a matter that won't bear delay--at least it won't
bear delay according to my view.--May I sit down?"
He looked at Stephanie, and she, with a glance at the others, answered
indifferently.
"If you wish."
"I telephoned to your house, Stephanie," Lorraine went on, "and they
said you were here, so I came straight back--and I'm fortunate to find
Gladys and Pendleton with you, for they are your friends and they will
stand by you, I know."
He was greatly agitated; his tones were high-pitched, his words bitten
off short, and his hands trembled with nervousness or with the tension
of his feelings.
"We will stand by Stephanie you may be sure," said Pendleton--"as we
have stood by her in the past."
"And as I haven't!" Lorraine exclaimed. "You're right, I haven't--but
I'm trying to stand by her now. Do you know what I overheard Billy
Dolittle telling old Baringdale this morning?--It was this--he said
that in the conservatory at the Croydens' last night he saw my wife in
that cad Porshinger's arms. I knocked him down with my stick--drove the
end of it straight into his stomach--it is an old fencing trick, you
know, Pendleton. When he got up I gave him another in the same place.
It put him out. Then I went on the hunt of Stephanie--to know how she's
going to meet the slander. It can't be the truth--at least, not the
_way_ he told it--Porshinger _must_ have used violence. Didn't he?" he
demanded.
"He did," Stephanie answered instantly. "He kissed me by force."
"I knew it!--I knew it!" Lorraine cried. "Well, I'll fix
him--Porshinger, I mean. There is only one way to handle such as
he--I'll prosecute him."
"You will what!" Stephanie exclaimed.
"I'll prosecute him--for assault and battery on my wife. I'll show the
dirty scoundrel something he wasn't looking for."
"You're wild, Lorraine!" interposed Pendleton quietly. "You won't help
Stephanie by any such proceeding--making her testify in a magistrate's
office and then in court before a gaping crowd--subjecting her to
all the shame of publicity. Why don't you--" he leaned a bit forward
and spoke persuasively, "why don't you try the end of your cane on
Porshinger also?--It would be a lot more satisfaction to you--and so
much quicker."
"It wouldn't accomplish the same result--it wouldn't put him in jail,"
Lorraine objected.
"It will put him in a hospital if you thrust hard enough," said
Pendleton. "That ought to satisfy you."
"And put me in jail, if he prosecute."
"He will not prosecute, never fear."
Lorraine shook his head.
"It won't do!" he declared. "Stephanie has nothing to lose and
everything to gain by my prosecuting him. The tale is going--what
Dolittle knows will be public property in a day. The way to meet it is
to have Porshinger arrested at once. Show that Stephanie is not afraid
to face the issue. If she remain quiet under the story she tacitly
admits its truth."
"But my dear Lorraine,"--Pendleton began.
"I'm not to be deterred, Montague--I didn't protect my wife from
Amherst, but I will protect her this time." He arose. "You'll hear
of Porshinger's arrest before night.--It will take him a little by
surprise, I imagine," he flung over his shoulder as he strode away.
Pendleton sprang up and overtook him.
"Look here, Lorraine!" he said, curtly. "Don't be a fool--you think
that Porshinger will bear the brunt of this, but you're grievously in
error--it will be Stephanie who catches all the recoil. Be sensible,"
he urged, his hands itching to shake Lorraine. "Think of the defence
that Porshinger will make if he is disposed to fight--and if you
_arrest_ him he is sure to fight--that is the cad in him."
"What will he say?" Lorraine demanded.
"That what he did was with Stephanie's permission."
Lorraine laughed shortly. "Just so--and a jury won't hesitate long when
it's a question of veracity between a pretty woman and a mere man.
Silence might be the wiser course, _if no one knew_, but that is not
the case--everyone knows it now, or will by night. You know Dolittle
quite as well as I--don't _you_ believe Stephanie?" he suddenly
demanded.
"Of course I believe her," Pendleton answered impatiently. "She told
me about Porshinger's conduct just before you came up, and we were
discussing what to do----"
"But you didn't know that it had been overseen?" Lorraine interrupted.
"No--we----"
"Exactly!--And Dolittle's story puts another aspect on it. We've got to
fight, and fight at once." He signalled his motor with his stick, and
it rolled up to the doorway. "I'll telephone you as soon as the warrant
is issued," he said, and flashed away.
Pendleton looked thoughtfully after the receding car, then he came
slowly back to his place.
"I don't know that the fool isn't right," he muttered.--"But why the
devil didn't he act as promptly in the Amherst affair?... I couldn't
stop him," he said, in answer to Stephanie's inquiring look. "He has
gone to have Porshinger arrested."
"It doesn't much signify!" Stephanie shrugged. "Since Billy Dolittle
saw it, the tale will be spread broadcast. He doesn't like me, you
know, so that will be an additional animus--and Harry's stick didn't
make him feel any the more lenient!" She laughed shortly. "I think
I should like to have seen those thrusts--they're about all the
satisfaction I can get out of the miserable affair. However, I'm pretty
well hardened by this time--one more nasty story won't matter."
"And it all comes back to me," said Gladys.--"If I had not invited
Porshinger to Criss-Cross, this wouldn't have happened."
"Nonsense!" Stephanie interrupted--"you're not to blame."
"No--_I'm_ the guilty party," interrupted Pendleton. "I started the
trouble when I had the dispute with Porshinger over the cut of his
coat."
"But you wouldn't have had that dispute if Porshinger hadn't spoken
slightingly of Stephanie," Gladys remarked.
"And Porshinger would not have had occasion to speak slightingly of
me if I hadn't gone off with Amherst," Stephanie concluded. "So the
primary guilt is mine--together with the further humiliation of having
misjudged Porshinger. On the whole, I've succeeded in making about as
complete a muddle of things as can well be imagined."
"I confess that I'm puzzled what to do," Pendleton reflected--"whether
to block Lorraine or to let him go on--and we must act quickly if we're
to block him. It resolves itself, of course, into which will occasion
the less talk--and I'm free to admit I don't know. It looks to me like
a case of 'you'll be damned if you do and you'll be damned if you
don't.' What do you think, Gladys?"
"I think there isn't much choice. We're in a split stick. One way we
face Porshinger's story and meet it with a passive denial, the other
way we take the bull by the horns--that is, Lorraine forces us to--and
tell the truth in court. As there can't be any question of blackmail,
the latter _may_ be the better--it has the merit of sincerity, of faith
in the facts. On the whole, I think that it will damn less than the
passive denial of Dolittle's story."
"I agree with Gladys:--we haven't much choice in the matter," remarked
Stephanie hopelessly. "Lorraine is forcing the issue.--We simply have
to meet it. I'm smirched anyway, but I shall be smirched less, it seems
to me, by assuming the offensive."
XVIII
THE TRUTH BY PERSUASION
Just then Porshinger drove up in his car. The hour was early and the
east piazza was as yet occupied only by Mrs. Lorraine, Miss Chamberlain
and Pendleton. He sighted them at once--stood a moment as though
undecided, then came slowly toward them.
"Can it be possible he will dare to join us!" Gladys exclaimed.
"Anything is possible with _him_," Stephanie answered
contemptuously--and turned her back.
"Surely he won't have the effrontery!" Gladys insisted and looked away.
"I can't think that even _he_ is cad enough for that," Pendleton
remarked, busying himself with his cigarette.
That no one glanced up at Porshinger's approach did not faze him
an instant. It was one of the secrets of his success in life that,
having come to a decision, he always saw it through. He knew his own
mind--which is more than the average man does.
"How-de-do, everybody!" he greeted. "May I sit down?" suiting the
action to the word. "Miss Chamberlain, I salute you! also Mrs.
Lorraine--and Mr. Pendleton. Bully day for golf--what do you say to a
foursome?"
Stephanie arose, looked straight at Porshinger with a deliberately
ignoring stare, and turned to Miss Chamberlain.
"Will you come into the house with me, Gladys?" she asked. "Excuse me,
Montague, please."
Pendleton had instantly found his feet--Porshinger was a trifle slower.
Gladys bowed perfunctorily to the latter, and followed Stephanie.
Pendleton resumed his seat and slowly lit another cigarette.
Porshinger laughed, a chuckling sort of laugh.
"I'm squelched, did you notice it?" he remarked.
"I noticed the intention, but not the desired result," Pendleton
answered very coldly.
Porshinger's small eyes flashed a keen look at him--had Stephanie
been telling them the truth--or only part of it? He had felt certain
she would tell nothing--simply let it be inferred that they had
had a disagreement; but there was something in the atmosphere that
suggested----
"A slight disagreement last night at the Croydens' over a trifling
matter," he laughed easily. "It's funny how a woman can make a man pay
up for a little thing. You might imagine from the way she acted that I
had done Mrs. Lorraine a grievous wrong."
Pendleton smoked and was silent.
In truth, he could not quite determine just how to meet the matter,
knowing the facts and of Lorraine's contemplated action--whether to
show he was aware of anything more than the actual incident of the
moment, or to tell Porshinger his opinion of him. The latter, however,
would entail the possibility of violence if Porshinger elected to
become offensive in his statements as to Stephanie. He _wanted_ to
smash Porshinger's face into a nothingness--yet that would be only a
temporary personal satisfaction, and would complicate the matter still
more without accomplishing anything.
Porshinger, on his part, had sunk his desire for vengeance into his
desire for Stephanie. He could not understand a woman with her flagrant
past except on one hypothesis--and he was willing to forget Pendleton's
recent attack if he could supplant him in her affections. He had no
possible doubt that Pendleton had taken Amherst's place--and he aimed
to displace Pendleton. That a woman could make one bad step and then
right herself beyond even the possibility of making another was, to
his mind, utterly absurd. And the last few weeks had but confirmed
him--she was playing him, to be sure, but coming closer every day,
until he had only to put out his hand and take her. He had put out his
hand last night at Croydens', but something had gone wrong. He had
been a trifle premature--possibly because he did not quite understand
these society women's ways. However, it was only a question of a little
time. He would pluck the fruit eventually, of that he had no doubt.
Stephanie was not really angry--only piqued at his awkwardness and want
of appreciation of the proper situation. He would show her that he did
not mind a temporary rebuff, would, in fact, disregard it entirely. If
she was inclined to punish him a trifle, she should have her way. Money
was king in the end--and money would win. Her present conduct--this
leaving him without a word, but with an ignoring look, was somewhat
disconcerting and altogether unexpected. However, he assumed it was
simply another exhibition of a society woman's seeming reluctance to
yield, and the desire to make her conquest worth while. Yes, it _was_ a
trifle disconcerting. He was at a loss what to say, because he did not
know how much, if anything, Stephanie had told of their quarrel.
He glanced covertly at Pendleton--Pendleton was smoking and looking
dreamily up at the sky.
"My idea of a foursome didn't seem to take well with the ladies," he
adventured.
"No, didn't seem to," Pendleton answered dryly.
"Do you think Mrs. Lorraine and Miss Chamberlain are coming back?"
Pendleton's patience was fast slipping its moorings.
"Judging from Mrs. Lorraine's manner, I should say _she_ was not----so
long as you are here," he replied.
Porshinger refused to take offence.
"I thought so myself!" he chuckled. "Have a drink, Pendleton?"
"No, thank you!" Pendleton declined sharply.
"Do you mind if I have one?"
"Not in the least."
"Do you mind if I stay here?"
Pendleton blew smoke rings and made no reply.
"From which I might infer--a number of things," Porshinger laughed.
"But I won't. I had one quarrel with a pretty woman over nothing last
evening; I'm not going to have another quarrel with a good fellow this
afternoon."
It was evident to Pendleton that Porshinger never suspected that
Stephanie had told more than the simple fact of their quarrel, or else
he was trying to draw him out so as to know what story he had to meet
and overcome.
Just then Dolittle's voice came around the corner.
"Have you heard the latest scandal?" it enquired.
"No--what is it?" said another voice, which Pendleton recognized as
Emerson's.
There was a moving of chairs and the two men sat down.
Pendleton took a long draw on his cigarette. He saw what was coming.
Porshinger, however, did not see, and like the majority of his class,
he craned his ears to overhear.
"It's pretty hot stuff!" laughed Dolittle. "Were you at the Croydens'
last night?"
Pendleton glanced at Porshinger. The latter's face was suddenly creased
by a frown.
"No--but Marcia was," Emerson answered, with the parvenu parent's pride
in the daughter who has been included.
"She didn't tell you, I fancy?"
"I've not seen her.--She takes her breakfast in bed, you know."
"No--I didn't know," said Dolittle airily--then hastened to add:--"but
most women do so, I understand."
"I don't know about most women," Emerson returned bluntly.
"Of course, you don't," Dolittle interjected pleasantly. "An old
married man isn't supposed to know about such things. Hey!" and he
laughed. "But to return--have you ever been in Croyden's country-house?
It's down the valley."
"Sure, I have," said Emerson.
"Then you know how spacious it is, particularly the conservatory, and
how the lights are arranged so that you seem to see all about you but
you don't--the palms and the other big plants are concealers."
Porshinger stirred uneasily and whipped a glance at Pendleton--who had
gone back to surveying the clouds and pushing smoke rings toward them.
"Yes," said Emerson; "I remember the conservatory perfectly. It's a
beautiful room, a beautiful room!"
"Well be that as it may," Dolittle went on: "it was just before the
Cotillon, and I was in the conservatory with--never mind her name--when
Stephanie Lorraine came in with the fellow Porshinger----"
Porshinger half arose; then sank back and his eyes sought
Pendleton--who was still occupied with the clouds and the smoke and his
reverie.
"It's amazing how such an infernal bounder can get intimate with a
woman like Mrs. Lorraine, even if he has more money than brains--and
even if she has a bit unsavory past," Dolittle continued. "There are
plenty in her own circle who have sufficient money to occupy her
attention. However, as I was saying, she and Porshinger entered and
took a sheltered little nook, which apparently was concealed by the
verdure----"
"Where were you?" asked Emerson.
"I was just a little way off, and could see through the leaves.
Presently I happened to glance over and saw--what do you think I saw?"
"Give it up," said matter-of-fact Emerson.
"I saw--Mrs. Lorraine in Porshinger's arms!"
"You don't say!" exclaimed Emerson.
"Yes--and he was kissing her well, I can tell you."
"Hum!" reflected Emerson. "Did your--companion see it, too?"
"Sure, she did."
And Pendleton knew from his tones that Dolittle lied.
"Hum!" muttered Emerson again. "Is she discreet?"
"Do you mean, will she tell? Certainly she'll tell. Do you fancy a
woman would let such an opportunity slip?"
"Or some men either!" Emerson remarked quietly.
"What do you intend to imply by that?" Dolittle bristled.
"It's not particularly hard to understand," the other answered.
"You mean you question _my_ telling it?"
"I think it would have been kinder to Mrs. Lorraine if you had
cautioned your companion not to tell--and followed your advice
yourself."
"Well, I'm damned!" Dolittle sneered. "Learning propriety from a
bar-tender."
"It doesn't make a heap of difference where you learn it, so long as
you do learn it," said Emerson good-naturedly. "The only trouble with
you is you never can learn it--you're too all-fired conceited and
satisfied with yourself, my young friend."
Pendleton came suddenly to life.
"Do you hear what they are saying, Porshinger?" he demanded curtly.
His tone angered Porshinger, who had been at loss what he should do.
"Your conversation wasn't likely to drown it!" he retorted.
"And do you propose to sit calmly by and hear a woman maligned, with
_you_ named as the guilty party?"
"What if she wasn't maligned?" sneered Porshinger.--"What if it's true?"
"You miserable cur!" said Pendleton.
"Oh, you needn't think that you're the only one!" Porshinger laughed.
The next instant, Pendleton had him by the throat--then he released him
and flung him in the chair.
"You're too contemptible for a man to touch, even in fight," said he.
It was no use for Porshinger to struggle physically against Pendleton,
and he was well aware of it, one experience had already proved it
beyond the possibility of doubt. So he sat back and carefully
straightened his tie.
"The Board of Governors shall have a report of this affair," said he.
"I overlooked your previous assault; but you'll have to pardon me if I
decline to overlook this one."
"Report and be damned!" Pendleton exclaimed. "I'll be delighted if you
do."
"And meanwhile, there are other ways of reaching you, my friend,"
Porshinger added. "I've already reached you through the lady we both
admire, so you may have my leavings if you wish them. They're not so
bad--as you doubtless can vouch for."
Again Pendleton sprang forward; Porshinger instantly cringed deeper
into his chair.
With his cane raised to strike, Pendleton recovered himself.
"You are not worth even a broken stick," he declared--and turned away.